Bloodred Montre“I murdered him.
l him into pieces.
I buried him.
"pShe's dead! They're looking for her, but she's dead!
He's gone...
These are their confessions, and this is what I am made of. Every admittance they uttered gave me life. I don'tknow how or why I came to be, but I have accepted my existence for what it is. A strange coincidence with no rhyme or reason.
I hear their confessions... I hear them all. Each person, each admission of guilt. They don't even have to speak it aloud. Their very thoughts come roaring into my head like a thundering tsunami. It's enough to drive anyone insane. Anyone else, that is. As for me, this is apparently what I was made to do. I was born to be a vessel for confessions.
I've heard so many utterances of guilt now that I've become something of an anomaly, a type of shape-shifter. The humans call it a Kitsune. In my normal, natural form, I take the shape of a bloodred Montre, but in my second form, I become a human woman, with creamy porcelain skin, long black hair, and soft gray eyes. This is the form I use to visit the humans, so much so that they consider it a divine blessing if they happen to glimpse my true shape.
When I visit them, I go to their churches and their hospitals, to their prison cells. Any place where a human might be tempted to confess something. I don'tgo to these places by choice, obviously. The all-consuming guilt that wraps itself around the human spirit is what draws me to them.
I tire of the humans and their trifles. When I grow wary of them, which is often, I return home to my forest. It is a dark place, cloaked in perpetual night, with a dreary fog that hangs over the dead branches. It is solemn, and lonely, and I love it here.
It was here that I met him. I was wondering the pathways, trying to drown out the mind-numbing voices that wracked my brain, when I saw a shape moving in the distance. I was surprised at first, shocked that someone had discovered my resting place. My alarm quickly turned into indignation, however, when I realized what the creature was doing.
He was burying a body! In MY forest! I stalked toward him, with no regard for the razor sharp spines running down his back or the dagger-sized claws protruding from his paws. I had to know who he thought he was and where he got off desecrating my sacred place. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"I barked.
"Who I am is of no import," he replied smoothly. "And as for what I'm doing, isn't it obvious? I'm burying the body."
"But why are you burying it HERE? Who are you to defile my hallowed grounds?"
"YOUR hallowed grounds?"he asked sarcastically. "Last I checked this was public property."
"It is NOT. I've claimed this forest. It is mine and mine alone."
"Doesn't work that way. Now if you'll excuse me..." He turned away from me and continued his work. My eyes drifted from his paws to the body beside him. Well, what was left of it. Whoever this person was had been brutally murdered, mauled, and mangled beyond recognition. Only a few ragged scraps of flesh clung to the skeleton.
I couldn't help myself. I said a prayer for the poor person's soul and watched helplessly as the creature tossed the remains into the pit, unceremoniously piling the dirt back on top of him to close the grave. He turned to leave without so much as a single word. "Aren't you going to say something? Don't you... Don't you want to confess your sin?"
"Why would I do that? Everybody knows it was me. That guy, along with everyone else I killed, got what was comin' to him," he replied with a shrug.
"EVERYONE ELSE? Just how many people HAVE you murdered?" I asked indignantly.
"Honestly? I've lost count. And I also don't care."
I shook my head. "Are you ever going to apologize? Do you even feel thr slightest hint of remorse?"
"I can't ask forgiveness for something I don't regret."
"How could you be so Unapologetic about this? You just admitted to murdering countless people!"
He studied me for a moment. "Why do you care?"
I explained to him who and what I was then, and for a few moments, he simply marveled at my story. After a few moments, he shook his head. "Stick around, sweetheart. One of these days I may be tempted to confess after all... Just you wait."
And so I did.
Story by
Rampage. 
