Demonic Beasts

A fictional account, think what you may.

The room is dimly lit by a few hanging lamps on the verge of expiring. 3 rows of 4 old dilapidated tables obstruct fluid movement for me in the room. About 7 infectious dogs, thickly salivating, and foaming at the mouth with terrible black empty eyes are in the room with me and my companion. There are two small rusted steel doors at opposite corners of the small room with lichens and funguses are growing on them due to the damp basement-like atmosphere; however, the doors are barred shut from the outside. The time of day cannot be determined due to the absence of windows, though I’m guessing it is about 5 in the morning.

                Although, I do not know for certain, I believe we are in some kind of cellar of an old run down brewery, for the odor of over fermented alcohol lingers. The dogs look possessed. almost like undeads, and they fight, bite, snarl and growl at any sign of movement, although they remain stationary and somewhat confused with the absence of motion; leading me to believe that they are blind. Locked in a room full of demonic k9s, it is only a matter of time before they try to tare us to pieces.

                “Okay dude, what the f**k do we do?” I utter desperate and quietly to my companion, while chewing the s**t out of my nails.

                “We gotta fight them,” he says with confidence, his eyes panning the room. “ They don’t look that strong, we can take them out for sure.”

                “Alright you crazy f**k,” I say, slowing my pace a little on my nails, but, my heart is still beating outside of my chest. “Well then,… Let’s f****n’ go.”

                Hours have passed and I’m still punching these horrible beasts in the face, and only about 5 have subsided; Dead or passed out? I do have that answer. Finally I was down to my last one, sparring with the creature. Now you must realize that we had to avoid being bitten by the dogs to avoid contracting rabies, or whatever other foul disease they carried, this most likely the leading factor in the exhausting length of our battle. This last dog is a relentless b*****d, I have punched it so many times in the face that it went from looking like a Labrador, to a pushed in faced boxer. I almost feel bad for it, we have been mercilessly beating these animals down to preserve our own safety, but they honestly do not put up much of a fight.

                 

Author's Note

Just do it.