Diruktober Day 21: Deity

-

      Diruktober is a DIR EN GREY themed inktober challenge by re_be_ka_f. I chose to use them as writing prompts to join in on the fun. 



They had a sort of holiday out in the countryside for it. They’d ram a huge log down a well to keep whatever beast it was they’d made up down there. 
At least that’s what visitors watching the festival always had thought. There were some old folks who swore that the rumors were true in this small logging village. They told stories of how there was a beast made of fire that swallowed the trees and beasts within them alike. 

Visitors thought it was simple traditions of luck, too. Though there was a day they had forgotten the festival. 
The old folks, most of them who claimed to have seen this phenomenon as children, tried to warn the workers to take the day for their tradition. 
“Too hot.” 
“Too tiring.” 
“It's not this month, it’s next month.” 

They dismissed those who wailed to the heavens with increased desperation and frequency, and the workers, most of them, thought that some sort of illness had overtaken their elders. 
Then the day came, a deafening roar thundered from beneath the earth. It was louder coming from the toilets and wells. It was everywhere, completely surrounding the village and ready to swallow it whole. 
They had no choice but to watch as flame jaws leapt from the bowels of the toilets and wells and any weak points in the earth where trees had been recently felled. The beasts roared and rampaged, flaming wolves eating alive any scrap they could find. 
They chewed through the houses and the wells from which they came, leaving nothing but trails of black curse where even the ground itself could host nothing. It would never hold life again. 
They snapped through the bones of the elderly trying to warn of them just the same as the strong young loggers. The fiery wolves gobbled up children and parents and dogs and insects. They chomped and chewed the wood that acted as the livelihood for the entire village. 

Ever since, the village has been gone, and there’s nothing there but a black spot where nothing will ever live again. 

Comments

Post a Comment

We are all human. Extend compassion to make life a little easier for everyone involved.

Popular posts from this blog

The Chinese Shock Artist That Inspired Rumors of Baby-Eating: Zhu Yu [Extreme Content Warning]

-
Image
   China is self-contained. While VPNs have bred accessibility to the internet from within the country, the culture is still largely self-referential in a place that has made it difficult to rely on or relate to a lot of outside information. While most of the world, no matter the language, uses the same handful of websites and can recognize their humor, I don't think the same can often be said about China who boasts its very own common websites all to itself.       The same can be said of cuisine. In my time in Beijing I've eaten my fair share of fruits and veg I'd never seen in the west, endangered species, and unique meats, though I never saw any of the things I'd heard and seen on the internet in my youth. There were these mass e-mails sent that said they torture cats and donkeys in China because the taste is sweeter. The famous shock film "Faces of Death" (banned in 46 countries!) was commonly cited as a display of how the Chinese would eat live animals...
Read more

Cocktails by Endo: Fuck His Dad

-
The pain of heartbreak was one that required a powerful remedy. This request was of spiced cherries, though Endo found himself uncertain what spices in particular. This story begged for something warm to embrace the world-wounded heart so it wouldn’t grow cold. The story that had been confessed by this newfound friend at his very bar had been one that he could empathize with.  Ten years of marriage had seen its potential end in a way that seemed so stark and so sudden. Endo himself had always rebelled against the nature of the culture around him to keep things quiet and orderly. To hold one's tongue about things until it became a divorceable offense was undoubtedly unacceptable to him.  Despite the impending springtime, a heavy, warm cherry port wine came to mind, though that was appropriate among camaraderie alone. It would be reserved for a more healing time, hopefully by winter. This one would instead command a simple sentiment that amused him among all the tragedy. “I ...
Read more