FICTION
Singer and the Beast
Paranormal fantasy
It was another dingy hole of a venue. He sighed into the froth jiggling atop his beer. They couldn’t even be bothered learning how to pull a decent stein of suds. He sighed again. Somewhere between the fire dancer and the contortionist, a repeating sigh had become a committed associate to his outward breath. The singer would be up soon. She always seemed so obscure among the acts, but he guessed that was probably the point — throw in a random chunk of gregarious boredom to refocus the crowd. He scooped out the frother with his paw and threw it on the ground nearby. Foam spattered and settled. He felt the liquid slowly seep through his fur and the cooling kiss on his skin. He breathed out. Yes, he sighed.
The familiar song began. Somewhere between upbeat and melancholy, the beats were expected and irritating. She sauntered from between the drapes to a few wolf whistles, a howl, and a slurping noise that resembled the plunging of a stuck drain. It was all pretty typical. Every night, always the same.
He sighed. Perhaps, tonight would be different. He could make it different. His hulking body was made to effect change in an instant. His claws could repaint this whole place with the blood of its patrons; humans, wolves, and the few other strange beasts that had begun to allow themselves to be seen in this traveling act of cruelty and depravity. He could change the night. He could change the world. He could change his own destiny. There was no consideration of the right or wrong, the good or evil, the should or shouldn’t, only the possibility and the knowing that yes, he really did have that power. Perhaps, tonight would be the night.
She sang.
He sighed.
He ordered another beer as he down the remanents of the last.
Another stein.
Froth hid the liquid.
He pawed at the foam again, digging beyond the white with anger. With a growl, he flung the aerated waste across the room, and with his other hand, he gripped the glass and took in the beer with a single gulp. A few squeals permeated gasps and a few words told him to calm down or get out. A woman’s screeching voice, never skipping a beat, hollowed above them all. She sang louder to drown out the commotion.
So, he made more commotion. He threw the glass into the hardwood floor. It shattered and shards flew out embedding themselves in those nearby. He felt a sharp impact in his shin. He would deal with that later.
She sang louder.
He growled a warning. Her eyes locked on his and she sang louder.
He stepped towards her and growled a deep guttural warning.
Her eyes never wavered and she sang louder.
He dropped to all fours and bounded the three strides to the stage easily flaying would-be protectors and want-to-be saviors. He was the largest beast in here by at least a head. He could do anything. He could choose his own destiny.
The girl stopped singing as his huge paw came at her. It engulfed her as he came down on the side of her head. She dropped. Limp, and silent. He dragged her back through the drapes leaving behind him the sounds of screams, demands, and whimpering.
She opened her eyes and smiled.
He kissed her forehead.
Every night, always the same.
This Flash Fiction was created from my personal prompt generator. The prompt was: “A beast punches a downtrodden singer in an open hole”. Random!