Drabble: Under

He began pulling the skin off his face, patches at a time, tearing his flesh away in jagged lines. Underneath, his bleeding red center pulsed, gushing blood. He tore and tore until he had no face, just blood and eyes and teeth, blood, eyes, and teeth.

And then he laughed. Laughing, he spoke, “Now do you see what I am?” He raised his bloody hands over his head. “I’m not a man. Do you not see what I am?”

“What are you?” I gasped. “Tell me?”

“I am,” he shouted, “that which belongs in the darkness, but what you illuminated!”


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