Zakhwaaz fell in the muddy water with a mighty splash. The sword slipped out of his hand and he scrambled in the wet dark pit looking for it. His hands came out full of mud and slime. A slow growl behind him gently knocked on the door of his perception for attention. Unwillingly he turned. One shining eye stared at him from the darkness, it pulsed red and golden, a wicked Z of a pupil seemed to eat away at the light the eye as it shone with its own weird light.
Zakhwaaz sighed and said, "Look, anyway we can settle this peacefully?"
An unfriendly growl tore through the darkness.
"Oh come on now," he hefted the weight of the club in his hand, "I don't want to kill you anymore than you want to eat me."
The beast came forward and a sliver of moonlight shone on the sword dug in its back, the blood shone a phosphorescent green as the moonlight touched the wound. The animal looked as if made by a confused God on a Monday morning and in a terribly bad mood.
Sharp spikes stuck out of its spine, its hide dirty by the mud and the slime of the pit, the teeth on its lower jaw protruded through its upper lip making a permanent gash there. It coughed once and spat out a skull polished clean of all traces of flesh.
"Guess I'll have to take my words back, eh." Zaakhwaaz smiled. The beast growled and jumped. Zaakhwaaz closed his eyes swung the club with all his might. He hit the thing and simply repeated the motion till the body being assaulted by his bat was just chunks of phosphorescent flesh. He looked at his hands and they shone in the dark, he looked at the rest of himself, he shone a walking light stick. He walked forward into the darkness into the cave of the animal. His own body showed him the path. He sidestepped the traps and the poisoned spears stuck at random in the walls of the cave and reached the far end, a door loomed back at him.
He knocked, once, twice and once. The Chief opened the door from the other side and grinned at Zaakwaaz who punched him in the face, knocking out four of his yellow teeth. He then went up to the top of the mountain through a stair dug into the side of the mountain. He reached the top where a throne awaited him. He settled comfortably into the big chair. The moon hung like a scythe's blade over his head. The crowd had gone home. The ground was littered with broken bottles and discarded eatables.
Zaakhwaaz tore a cloth from the back of his throne and started to clean his hands.
I was listening to a song by Marilyn Manson, a line went, "They love you when you are on the covers, when they're not then they love another." One thing led to another and there is this story. I wanted to finish it in one line with the dude falling in the pit and dying, but making beasts out of imagination is too fun an exercise not to do.
Hope you all had fun reading.
Next, I need to ask things from my readers, that is You in case you were wondering. Tomorrow then!