Igor watched the centipede slowly make it‘s way down a mossy tree trunk. He brought his large hand up and hovered it just over the unsuspecting insect. He likes this moment. The one just before. He closed his eyes to savor it just for a moment, then he opened them again in sync with the movement of his hand.
The centipede turned into sticky insect go under his palm and he revelled in the feeling. Insects did not provide the most satisfaction though. He still recalled the smoky stench of the burned cat with the outmost pleasure. His face soured at the memory of the lashes that followed it. The townspeople did not share his enthusiasm for maiming animals nor did they condone it.
He had to make himself content with squashing bugs and torturing whatever tiny thing he came across in the patch of forested land by the town. Birds chirped high up in the tree and Igor scowled at them. So far the hated creatures had eluded him. Far too quick. He picked up a few loose rocks and launched them into the thick of the tree. The bluebirds scattered and took to the sky with screeches and flaps of tiny wings.
At least that shut them up. He inspected the tree trunks for any further signs of insects, but found nothing but his splotches of his own handiwork. A small quirrel scampering from the forest caught his eye. Igor had never had a squirrel before. He wondered how it‘d smell burnt and schorched, delighting in the thought.
He delicately approached it, trying his best not to spook it. The little creature turned to look at him, then retreated just a little further into the forest. Igor hesitated, he‘d heard stories about the forest and dark things that lived inside it. Things that made his own urges seem like love and caring.
The way the squirrel cheekily regarded him made the decision for Igor, he again did his best sneaky approach. The squirrel once more retreated and Igor followed. This went on for a while, drawing Igor further and further into the forest. The leaves got thicker and let less and less light through.
Always the squirrel stayed just out of reach. The darkness became unnatural, the shadows longer and longer and a chill extended down Igor‘s spine. He looked around and somehow all the branches around him seemed to end in long gnarled claws. The squirrel disappeared from sight but Igor thought he heard whispers.
„Just leaves.“ The sound of his own voice startled him for a bit. The whispers became louder and Igor had enough. He started running but immidaitely tripped over roots that somehow tangled themselves around his ankles. The trees bent and swayed around him, and he could swore it became as dark as night.
Red eyes glinted in the forest, as he frantically tried to pull the roots away from his foot to no avail. Against all logic it only tightened. Suddenly both wind and whispers stopped and everything fell dead silent. Igor‘s breath and heartbeat rang out clear. The smell of burnt meat filled his nostrils, without any clear source.
He heard a cat meow, but saw nothing. And then again but this time it emerged. The very same cat he‘d burnt to ashes some months ago. It came and sat down as cats do and started licking its paw. Igor just stared. Then it looked at him and Igor swallowed. The cat then silently scampered away, and the grip of the root loosened.
Perhaps a cloud just flew by and uncovered the sun but everything became brighter. Igor pulled himself free and ran out of the forest, nearly crying. He never hurt an animal again.