mOnStEr - oNe
945 Words
"Stop!" He shouts, heart pounding loudly inside his chest as blood rushes to his ears.
He stands naked in all his glory with a simple wrap of seaweed covering his bits, the rest of his pale skin exposed to the breeze and heat. The armed guard with his weapon at the ready hesitates, but only for a moment. The grip on the arrow tightens as a whispered breath lights the sharp tip with orange flames.
"Move out of the way, kid!" the guard orders.
"You can't possibly kill her!" He stresses.
“Move!”
With resolute determination he ignores the order and stands protectively in front of the creature, arms spread wide. He narrows his eyes, daring the man to shoot.
He realizes his mistake too late, underestimating the guard as the man makes to pull back the arrow and release. With barely a quiver, he shoots.
He intentionally misses, a warning shot fired for lack of a better word.
The tip grazes the younger’s arm. The fire scorches his flesh in those few brief seconds of contact. He grimaces at the pain and he cradles his arm into his body.
His eyes narrow with a glare at the man in disbelief.
Thankfully, the creature, an innocent seal, takes the opportunity to wiggle into the arms of the ocean. Letting the salty sea engulf its heavy body.
The boy doesn't take his eyes off the guard, his stomach twisting when he catches sight of the Royal Crest etched into the uniform.
The guard growls in frustration, "Stupid boy!”
The bow and quiver are forgotten as the Guard stalks toward him and grasps a handful of short hair in his hand. The younger panics, screaming and kicking at his captor. Like hell will he go without a fight.
He’s dragged to his knees with a well-placed kick behind his legs. He crumbles and all he can do is squint up at the angry man.
“What is your name,” the guard demands.
“None of your business, killer,” he spits.
The grip on his hair tightens.
Another hand wrapping around his neck and squeezes.
All air is cut off.
He feels his gills trying to flutter in an attempt to breathe and he fears the worst.
If this killer feels what’s underneath, if he’s exposed… who know what they’ll do.
“Grey!” He chokes out.
The guard lets up, “Again.”
“My name is Grey,” he whimpers, coughing as his lungs are finally filled.
“Such a ridiculous name,” the man sneers.
“Guard Agni! Stand down!” A new voice calls out.
Grey peers up, looking around the guard’s, Angi’s, legs.
His breath gets stuck in his throat. The person before them is… breathtaking.
He can’t tell if they are male or female. Their hair appears short, dirty blonde and messy. Their face is covered in dirt and soot. Sweat beads down their forehead. And their eyes are as dark as coal, piercing into his very soul.
It makes Grey shiver.
“Your highness,” Agni bows.
Grey watches the exchange mutely, heart racing as the royal continues to approach them.
“Did you get it?” the royal asks gruffly.
“No,” Agni sighs, “my apologies your Highness, I was stopped by this hooligan.”
Grey snickers, who uses hooligan as a term anymore?
Agni shoots him a glare.
He shuts up.
The royal doesn’t look too pleased either.
But Grey holds his head up high, ignoring the way his body wants to cower.
His fingers twitch and he fights the urge to reach out and touch. Are they warm? Or are they as cool as the ocean breeze?
Who are they?
Friend or foe?
“Princ-“
“Your Highness we’ve found one!”
Grey turns to another guard.
His heart stops.
“No,” he whispers breathlessly.
Oh s**t, no!
In the man’s hand is what appears to be a seal. It lays limp and appears heavy in the guard’s hands as it's raised above his head.
Grey scrambles up and attempts to reach out and take it back.
But he’s stopped by another harsh kick to his legs, his fingertips barely grazing the skin he’s so familiar with.
“How?” the royal asks in disbelief.
“It’s in pristine condition,” Agni adds just as surprised.
Grey curls into himself in pain.
“It was laying behind a few rocks, it’s dead.”
No, Grey thinks, not dead, but rather empty.
“Perfect, I suppose our quest has been a success,” the Royal breathes in relief.
“Your father will be pleased indeed,” Agni smiles, before the upturned lips fall, “What would you have me do with this nuisance?”
“Leave him,” the Royal dismisses, “he’d just be a waste of space in the dungeons.”
It’s only then that Grey notices the other three soldiers. A group of six to hunt his kin.
Tears blur his vision. His breaths come in shuddering sobs as he watches them retreat without a glance his way.
The seal, his pelt, is carried in the center as a symbol of victory while he lays stuck without a way back home.
He grits his teeth.
He’ll drag himself until he reaches them.
Until he can get his skin back.
Like hell will he let them celebrate his pain!
- Writer
