Re-shaping the monks memories proved difficult at the start, especially since my last meal was 10 days ago. I could feel my energy leaking from every pore in my body, drop by drop as I painted each mind with colours of farming and family life. Watching each man collect what little belongings they had and leave the confinements of the monastery poured both relief and regret in to my heart. They’d probably be dead by sundown.
I poked around at the beds and kitchens, hoping to find some form of food that wasn’t covered in an army of maggots. A loaf of day old bread and rock hard lump of butter was about as far as my success could reach. Through fits of gagging and coughs I managed to force a slice of thickly buttered bread down my throat, before the songs of slumber allowed me to waltz into a bed, where sleep hit like death. Slowly, and then all at once.
Waking up to growls was not unusual for me especially with the two dogs I used to own. These growls, however were neither animal nor human that I could recognise. I stalked into hiding behind a green wooden wardrobe. Finding two holes that matched up perfectly to give me a clear view of the source of the growls. The sight that fell before me forced silent screams and thundering shakes into my body.
Its head reached the roof, the lumps that replaced hair oozing green pus. The teeth were jagged reminding me of the blade of a bread knife. The body was lean and muscular. Veins popping out of places I didn’t know veins ran through. The worst of all was the eyes. Oval shaped and icy blue, so much so that even from here I could see my reflection. The pupils were small enough to be figments of my imagination, yet they darted to and fro as fast as a thought enters the brain. Their eyes were conductors of cold, everything they rested on seemed to freeze. Including me. My heart was the last to freeze as its eyes narrowed to a line, like a soldier taking aim with his arrow.