The Beast Inside Read online

  The L’art’o people’s main diet consisted of Sevlin flesh and even though she was not Sevlin it would still feel weird to eat people. Alexandra’s tribesman father told her that she would only be able to eat during the one mealtime. So now she would be last in eating at mealtime, and only be able to eat at that time. If she refused any part of the meal she would have to sit out of two meals and there would be no other way to get any other food, at least that was the L’art’o’s theory.

  After not wearing much clothes for about five years Alexandra was starting to forget how it felt to wear them. She understood now that she preferred not to wear any clothes and it was better for her in the long run. At least that is how she felt now, but anyone about to become a cannibal might have delusions of nakedness or some such things. Alexandra liked how the wind and air felt as it passed over her skin, but then again she was frightened of these people eating her or doing something worse than that to her.

  The last couple of years being exposed to the hot sun from frequently being outside without much clothes on, her skin was a dark purplish colour. Alexandra lay on her back thinking about tomorrow morning’s events. She would be officially sworn into the L’art’o tribe, how boring, and obtuse that would be for her. It was hard to believe that she was already three hundred, and fifty something years old. How the time flew by when you did not age, and boredom did not get to you at all. Her thoughts slowly drifted away as she journeyed towards sleep.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  The creature chased her and chased her. Alexandra ran up, and over hills. The creature still followed. Everywhere that she went it would follow. It usually left after a few hours into the chase, but this time it continued to chase her for days, for months, and for years. It would not stop. Whatever she did to evade it would not work until one day when she was too tired to continue running she stood up to it.

  Awakening drenched in sweat just as the creature delivered a fatal blow to her chest with its talons saved her the pain of the blow, but left the memory engraved deep into her mind.

  “Alexandra are you all right. You must have been having a terrible nightmare. There are a lot of things that we must do in order for you to be ready to be received into the L’art’o. So, center yourself and we will be off to the tattooist’s place for you to get your identity branded into your flesh,”

  A tattooist for branding an identity on her. He continued to say more.

  “In the future you will get other tattoos to signify your rank and achievements for the tribe. These tattoos are given no matter what age you happen to be. You will find out my name once you have been inducted into the tribe. For now let’s get you your first tattoo. Follow me.” The tribesman said all of this roughly in the L’art’o tongue.

  She wondered why the tribesman did not have any visible tattoos on his own flesh. Alexandra got up, and stretched to get the sleep out of her bones. When done she and the tribesman left the tent and she followed him. They turned left as they exited Alexandra’s room. Then they walked down a long dirt trail passing many tall trees. She slipped as they started to climb up a steep hillside, and was thankful that her tribal father caught her before any damage could be caused.

  A short while after they passed the hill they came to a fork in the path. Turning left they continued their journey until they reached a hole in the ground. The tribesman climbed down into the hole first and then urged Alexandra to follow. As soon as she was in the hole a huge muscular tribesman covered in tattoos approached her.

  The weird vibe feeling guy looked at Alexandra with eyes going up, and down, and across her body. Nodding to himself as he pondered something that was probably bad for her, and good for him. Alexandra shivered as goosebumps were felt rising along her skin, and a lump formed in her throat at the sight of him licking his lips. His mumbling to himself while he looked at her, disturbed her spirit.

  He then said something to the tribesman who brought her that she could only understand bits, and pieces of. It was said as he gave the tattooed tribesman a piece of parchment with a strange symbol on it. The symbol was of a fox head inside a double lined circle, a battle-axe, and a long sword were embedded into the fox. Blood dripped from the fox from the wounds caused by the weapons. It was so detailed that she almost threw up.

  She was instructed to lie on her back to get ready for the tribal markings that he would put on her face, neck, chest, arms, and legs. A line of green, red, and orange dots was tattooed on her body from the left side of her face down her neck, across her left breast, down her left side, and down, and around her left thigh. She asked her tribal father why they put these tattoo markings of dots on her when she did not see anyone else in the tribe that bore the same markings.

  He told her that it was to make her standout among them as one who belonged to the tribe, and was not truly free. The total dots on the left side of her face were one green, two red, and three orange. On the left side of her neck were two green, four red, and six orange dots. Leading from the base of her neck, across her left breast, and down her left side was four green, eight red, and twelve orange dots.

  From her left side, down her left thigh, and around her left thigh were eight green, sixteen red, and twenty-four orange dots. The total amount of dots on her body was fifteen green, thirty red, and forty-five orange for a total of ninety dots. Alexandra was told to lie on her stomach forcefully as she was still numb from the other tattoos. She did so, and was strapped in so that she could not move around, and mess up the tattoo.

  She cried through the whole process of applying the tattoo onto her lower back, and buttocks. The tattoo guy did not take that long, and the pain seemed to go away as soon as it appeared. Then her tribal father had to dowse it in iodine, and that hurt.

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  He, the tattooed tribesman, pulled a rusty iron out of a fire pit that was red at one end from sitting in hot coals for a while. It was a branding iron that had a triangle in the middle of a circle and it was roughly two inches in diameter. She was still face down on a table, and tied down with straps. The other tribesman left while the tattooed tribesman continued to tie her to the two foot high table.

  The tribesman spread apart her legs, and tied them down at her ankles. A tear escaped her left eye as she realized what this man was about to do to her as he slammed his fist into her buttocks, and smacked her upper thighs. She was relieved, thinking that he was just preparing her for another tattoo, when he walked towards her head and picked up the branding iron and worked it into the flesh of her left buttock, despite the pain she did not scream.

  After turning her over to her back he attempted to violate her but with her bare foot she kicked him in his man parts, and he dropped to the ground, cursing. His smelly breath was in her mouth, and his dirty hands could still be felt on her breasts. It was then that she screamed in rage. Her right hand, and wrist were raw from tearing it out of the restraints. After untying herself she jumped off of the table.

  Alexandra felt torn, and violated, not whole. She blamed herself, and was disgusted with the people of this place. Her trust was misplaced, and she felt guilty for this happening. It was her fault for being naked in front of this vile man. Immediately after she threw up, then threw up again, and again. Green puke covered the floor in the corner, and it smelled of illness so much so that it forced her to be sick even more.

  Dry heaves were all that was left, and her throat was so raw that she could not talk. She felt a little blood seeping from her wound, and numbness that was from the tattooing. This travesty was causing an inner storm to begin brewing deep within her. The man got up, grabbed her, and threw her up against the wall. Her nose was broken from his knee to her face. Fist after fist hit her from this man, and she tried to defend herself but she was running out of strength.

  While on top of her he tried to enter her again, and she bit him on the neck, and scratched his face, and chest. His blood was coming out in droves, but he was too strong for her. The tattooed man had only one eye
left but he was still trying to enter her. Her knees were closed, and it was only a matter of time before he beat her unconscious. Alexandra was pissed, and distressed, but felt powerless to stop anything else from happening to her.

  A pale face with sad eyes looked around the room and all that Alexandra could see was sadness. Just before she blacked out, the man stopped. Maybe he was out of time, but for now she had won. Shaken from her ordeal she withdrew to somewhere inside herself. To cover his transgression the tattooed tribesman made her put on a rough spun linen pair of pants, and shirt that smelled of old potatoes, and musk. She puked black that smelled of the stench of death. Her clothes were thrown into the furnace that the poker had come from.

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

  Not long after the other tribesman heard her screams, it was normal to scream from being branded, and thus he had no idea of the ordeal she had gone through, he came back down into the hole. The tribesman should have smelled the release of bodily fluids, but he really was not the woodsman type, and was kind of daft when it came to detective work.

  So he never even noticed that there was more blood on the table than normal, some was even in the corner of the room. The tattooman’s missing eye did not even tip him off that something happened that was not normal. It was either that or this had happened before, and Alexandra did not want to think about that at all. Her green face he contributed to her reaction to the tattooing, and branding.

  It was a different reaction than what he was used to, but he was stupid like that. Alexandra thought that it might be from eating Sevle brains kind of like mad cow disease, or something like that. Alexandra had withdrawn, but instinct told her that she needed some questions answered so she asked her bastard of a tribal father,

  “I now need something clarified, tribal father.”

  Her tribal father nodded for her to go ahead. She continued with a little concern on his face as Alexandra looked worn out, and she was at least bearing her captivity before he had left her with the tattooed tribesman.

  She was only able to say something after lots of water, “What exactly am I to this tribe? What do these dots really mean? Why am I wearing these clothes? Will I ever be free?” She looked ready to cry even though she looked more angry now than sad, in fact she looked positively pissed off.

  Her tribal father smiled a diabolical smile and then spoke to Alexandra, “Alexandra you are a slave and will always be a slave. You will do whatever anyone tells you to do, if you are told to do it, you shall do it. The green dots mean that you are a new slave, the red dots mean that you are a hunter and the orange dots mean that you are an assassin. Altogether they mean that you are at the bottom of the hierarchy of our tribe.”

  To Alexandra he sounded kind of pompous and obnoxious. He paused to breathe and then continued. “The fact that there are twice as many red dots as green dots and three times as many orange dots as green dots means that you are a hunter more than a slave and an assassin more than a hunter. After your inception as a slave into the L’art’o you will be trained into these things.

  “There are ninety total dots on your body and that means that you are a low ranked slave and that you will be last in all aspects of the L’art’o. Also from this day forward you are not allowed to bathe, or come into contact with water. Us L’art’o’s should be able to smell you, and be able to be served right away.

  “You will never be free, and to me that just sounds so funny. Oh by the way you will be lucky if you get to eat today because the dogs always eat before you do. You will be staying in a hole in the ground beneath one of the father trees in the north.

  “It is small at this time, but can be made bigger if you have the energy to do so after you have done all of your work during the day. You will have to use your fingers, and hands to dig because you will not be given any tools.” Alexandra felt worse after he had finished speaking, but knew that crying would not help her in any way.

  Besides there was not much she could do about it as these tribesmen’s prisoner. These beasts that were the L’art’o were kind of sick. Alexandra had to work hard to not have bile come up her throat, and spew it all over everyone. It hurt to walk as every movement of her right, or left leg made her inner thighs rub together and pull on her groin.

  Stifling a whimper, or even a tear by biting her lip she soldiered on. The tribesman led, or dragged Alexandra out of the hole. They headed back to where they came from passing the tent she stayed in on the way. Both of them continued for a while until they arrived at a clearing divided into ten sections.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  The first section contained really old looking people, the second one contained someone that looked like a shaman of some sort, and whom was most likely his acolytes. The third one contained people not as old as the first group, maybe the ones over fifty. A fourth one contained those whom were probably over thirty, a fifth one contained those most likely over fifteen, a sixth one contained those that appeared over eight, and a seventh one contained those probably over three.

  An eighth one contained tribesmen and tribeswomen in chains, the ninth one contained some vicious looking dogs, and the tenth one was reserved for those who might have been slaves. Or people that were probably kept only to be eaten later, and they got to eat before the slaves. Everyone was waiting for Alexandra and the tribesman leading her to show up so that they could get started with the ceremonies.

  Alexandra could see all of the tribesmen and women smiling lustfully at her, and she did not like the feeling that she got from their stares. It was almost as if they knew what the tattooist had done to her. The tribesman with her directed her to the tenth section where two men in sailor’s uniforms were tied to a large rock, and sitting in mud created by soapy water being thrown on them.

  Her tribesman father sat in the fourth section. Alexandra was uncomfortable sitting close to the two men in her section because they stared at her for a long time. She knew that it was a matter of time before they called on her for some domestic task, or something worse that savage cannibals tended to inflict on others. If only her looks could kill, a stare to die for was what she gave all. All present were ordered to be silent as the shaman rose to begin the ceremonies or whatever he was going to do.

  A deep diabolical voice came from the shaman's pursed lips, “On this day we will inaugurate a new lifetime slave that will do whatever you ask, and I do mean anything. Haha, anything, and I am going first. I call dibs, and back to the point. If she does not do something that she is told to do she shall be brought to the tribunal, and punished according to the task that she did not do.

  “Her name is Alexandra, but she should answer to dog, or mutt, or whichever you prefer to call her. Of course this day we will have a great celebration of the flesh. Oh, it will be so good. Yes it will. We celebrate what nature has given us, and give into it, whatever it may be. Ah, the pleasure I am feeling now just pondering it. Oh joy.

  “Whether that is eating whatever is available or doing stuff unimaginable to whomever may be around no matter if they like it, or not. Yes. Even eating your friend is up for grabs, oh the possibilities are endless. So, once the food has been given to all present, whichever you desire, take it from her,” The savage priest smiled at Alexandra lustfully, licking, and smacking his lips.

  “If she does not do something that she is told to do she can be punished on the spot by any means necessary at your disposal. The more she cries out, the more she must be punished. Punish, punish, punish she will have to be punished. Ha ha ha. If she happens to die, so be it. Wooh lots to say, and I just want to punish her. Come here maggot,” The savage shaman called Alexandra up to him while slapping the palm of his left hand with the handle of a leather whip.

  When Alexandra arrived before him, he ordered her to turn around, and hug a huge tree trunk. A rope was fastened onto her wrists, and tightened so she could not move. He then tore the shirt from her back, and began to whip her. When he stopped for a moment, she thought that he was done, but he continued
whipping her with something that felt like it had metal teeth that dug into her flesh, which had to have at least nine distinct branches to the end of it.

  She screamed, and screamed, the more she screamed the more that he whipped her. The other tribesmen could see the shear pleasure on the shaman’s face as each stroke of the whip ended with it striking Alexandra’s flesh. His clothes were drenched in sweat, and his muscles were becoming exhausted from the strain. The handle of the whip was stuck in his rictus contorted fist. His knuckles were white, and the blood in his hand was hot.

  Hot snot ran down from his nose, and his eyes were cross-eyed from the strain. A vein throbbed on his forehead. Alexandra felt everyone’s eyes on her, and her torturer’s hot breath was on her neck. It made her skin crawl. Something twisted inside her broke free, and she began to laugh. The L’art’o were enraged at her indignation, and wanted to punish her for it.

  She heard the whip being dropped on the ground, and the clink of metal as the shaman stooped to pick up something else off of the ground. His hurumph, and wheeze told her that it must have been heavy. Clearing his throat after spitting on the ground some chewing tobacco of some sort, he spoke.

  “What is your name, dog?” The shaman commanded of her.

  “My name is Alex ...” The shaman struck her on the back with the whip that she felt deep in her back, her lungs were on fire from the blow, and he spoke again.

  “What is your name, maggot?” The shaman demanded in a harsher tone than the first time that he had asked her.

  “My name is Alex ...” The shaman struck her in the back again with the whip, and then gave a hard kick to the left side of her head. She slammed into the tree, dazed. She fell to the ground as the ropes came loose, but not without severely burning her ankles, and wrists from the rope first. The shaman gave her another kick in her stomach before she could get up.