FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

I am a jealous beast, and do not share lightly.

The sound of the front door opening s a surprise, for this apartment has not been entered or checked in nearly two years. The sound, a creaking groan of old metal brings me to active awareness and breaks the hibernation of almost five hundred days. I lift myself, feeling as much as hearing the steps of one who would enter my domain, and I click my mandibles in active irritation. My spittle drips down onto the yellow-white of my chin, and down, becoming insubstantial within the nebulae of my form. I slither forward on many limbs, and press to the wall, and slide into the shadow between rooms, to listen, observe, and feel.

"Rent is seven-fifty a month, and we have a handyman if you have any problems." The owner of the apartment, one of twelve in my deepest memory, stands with a clipboard in one hand, and his other resting on the tattered leather of his belt. He is gaining upon the prospective tenant with eyes that rarely lift above her chest. Irritating, I coil myself, and drag my claws across the back of the wiring that comprises the space I exist in. The lights flicker to show my displeasure at the intrusion. "Normally it'd be ten-fifty, but, there's some issues with the apartment."

"oh?" I focus on this new voice. She is shorter than he by perhaps a few inches, and her eyes, a color not unlike earth freshly wet by rain, and hair that is close to her head, shaved in the style of the warriors of this nation. Again I drag my claws over the wiring, until the landlord smacks the wall and toggles the lights twice, sending a fresh surge of charge through my claws. I growl, but return my gaze upon her. I feel her strength, and for a moment, I am pleased. She is a warrior, in build, and in heart. I can feel the strength in her, and consider a moment. She will be interesting prey. "Why so low?"

"Eh. Near the train tracks, wiring has always been finicky, and, uh, according to the last three tenants, place has been haunted?"

I grin, my needle teeth clacking in pleasure for having a reputation upon my domain. Let those weak of will be sent running n fear - it was to my pride that I felt myself grow larger for it, my presence felt as a cold chill as both shivered unaware. "Frankly, looks better to have it rented at a low price than not at all."

"Fair. Alright, guess I'll take it. Haunted or not, it's seven-fifty." She said. The eyes of the landlord gleamed with greed, and I chittered while returning to my personal space - a carved crawl where I hid my treasures collected over the century of my existence. In this darkness, I watched her walk and their discussion, before feeling myself loll back into a shadowy slumber.

I awoke later, the autumnal world scratching chill upon the window of the bathroom - where I lay curled in the recess of the tub, in the shadow behind the curtain. My eyes opened, to the dull, yellowed shade that was a shower curtain. I drug my claws across it to make the plastic rings rattle against the tin pole that held it up. The lights had just flicked on, and here, I rose up into a coil, ready to slither into another corner,or to leap out and strike should they be foolish enough.

I heard her bare feet cross from carpet to linoleum, and she paused at the sink. I rose, a great shadow behind the curtain, and I stretched forth the tatters of my wings, that they would spread, and send a shudder down the spine of my intruder. I bore my teeth into a great feral growl, and felt my spittle drool down my teeth, and upon the stain that was the tub. My tail tips rattled, each curling into the other in agitation. I was going to drive away the interloper, and be once more free to the silence of my own domain. The curtain pulled away!

And she stared into the mirror, her hand pulling free of the shower cover. She hadn't even looked, only stared into the lines upon her face, into a brow creased with frustration, worry, or concentration. Her right hand rest upon the sink, having turned the knob for some hot water to begin flowing. Her left hand was upon the back of a shelf. It was not connected. I froze, a moment of confusion registering in my thoughts - as I stared my third eye upon the metal and plastic that was a prosthetic. I gazed to the stump where her elbow ended, then towards the false limb, then up again.

For a moment, I hesitated. She gazed up into her own reflection, and I saw the red ringing her eyes, and how her jaw shook. I saw a flash of pain run its way across her face, and she squeezed her eye shut while clutching the stump of her left arm. Her fingers dug as her face paled, and I growled under my breath. Pain rocked her, and her eyes grew wet. Her hand slammed into the wall, then she covered her face in the mirror. Her jaw tensed.

She hurt. It was a hurt that offended me, for I cared nothing of her - I cared less for those who were savage beasts to leave another in such a state. The scars were fresh enough, physically and in the essence of her aura, that I felt my claws etch invisible lines in the tile. I coiled tighter, as this wave passed through her, and she began to calm. Her aura soothed, and with deep, practiced breaths, she straightened herself out, and ran a hand through her hair.

She said nothing, but slapped herself. Her face hardened into a mask of anger, and then a mask of controlled calm, even as her cheek burned red.

"You are stronger than this." She said to her reflection. I rose again, though she would not see me, and looked upon her from above. She was fit, and scars ran her side. She was healthy, and she hurt so much. She was a wounded predator not given the dignity of a foe she could die beneath or rip cock to skull. No. She was a predator made victim. That angered me. I reached out, and my claws ran down the line of her neck to shoulder. She shuddered at my touch. But I hooked a little of her pain and pulled it away. She might intrude into my realm, but I would honor a predator's durability. "Don't be a coward."

She turned to face the shower, and stepped through the shadow of my claws. The light of the bare bulb above did render me weak on the physical plane, but I could do some things. The water was turned on, dousing me as it soaked through me, and she began to strip down to her flesh. I could see her scars, and how she had fought to get as strong as she was. Her body was a beautiful tone of mocha and black hair, both upon her head and in a neat trimming between her thighs. She was female, and she held herself strong.

She stepped into the water, and I, for a moment, touched her.

I felt her, as she pressed her head back into my own, and the shadow washed through her, as I felt her mind touch mine. We breathed as one, for an infinite length of time, then she shook off and stepped under the water, turning it hotter. In that moment, I felt her fully. And my breath had been stolen.

I did not like her. I did not like her intrusion. But I had felt her soul - and it was one I would at least show decorum and respect to. And as I watched her soak and shower and wash away the pain of memory, of living through the moments that cost her the arm (and how silly, that a neighbors popcorn machine would make her tighten up and send her back! I hated her neighbor.), I felt a moment of pained sympathy for her. She could stay, at least, temporarily.

I would live with her memory and pain for days after.

Autumn still. As she hurried about the den, I watched in moments of amusement - feeling her panic as she tried to get everything ready despite having already gotten everything prepared hours ago. I lay beneath the couch, watching "The Netflix" with my fourth eye, and the other five focused upon her. My attention was easily split, and my care was low. In my right claw-hold I rolled her keys in my hand, while she continued to look about for everything. Her brief case for her job interview was packed, her clothes looked good and she had an umbrella for when it rained.

"Keys, keys, damn it, where are the..." I tossed them from under the couch, where they landed near her feet. She jumped and spun, then barked a nervous laugh. She bent and snagged the keys off the red shag carpet, and she rounded to grab her briefcase up. She patted herself down then adjusted her left arm to be tighter and properly secured to her body. I turned my face to watch her, and my skull thumped against the lower edge of the couch, which caused the thing to shift. I grunted, and rubbed at the rim of my right eye, which was closed due to impact. I turned, slithering through the shadow beneath her seat, and darted to another, beneath a book shelf. My eyes burned as she reached for a large glass and piled powder into it, before stirring in milk.

She took a deep swallow of it and set it upon the counter near her. She turned, the refrigerator opening while she rummaged around for something, possibly a fruit. I slithered forward, grabbing her drink and sniffed it, before taking a taste. I wanted to retch at the sweetness, having swallowed almost half of the remainder, and darted back, leaving the glass spinning in my reach. She turned in time to watch it rotate, and stared, following where I had been half seconds before. I wanted to gag, and I was starting to choke on the taste, but willed it down.

Humans had awful taste in food. I had tasted chalk before, and this was close. She shook her head and began to chew on her apple, before giving a laugh. A moment later, the tension left her, and she downed the remainder of her drink. I gagged again at the thought of it, and she hurried out the door and locked it with a loud click. I looked up and out, and gazed back to "The Netflix" which still played, giving sound to my domain. I chittered in irritation, my mandibles loudly clicking, before approaching the sink where the dishes from yesterday remained. I growled, spitting a caustic acid onto the plates, before glancing over and seeing her briefcase still on the table. I sighed. And then I threw it at the door, which landed with a loud THUNK. The door opened a minute later, and she stuck her head in, staring. I was pressed behind the refrigerator, peeking out over the top at her.

My face was level with the backside of the cookie jar. Made in Taiwan. New country! I looked out at her, as she reached to get it, then gave a bewildered stare into the room, from where it had lay, then where it landed.

"Um. Thank you, Mr.. Haunt?" She said, and then shook herself off. She laughed, and closed the door. I darted over to lock it, then returned to the dishes. My human was messy, wasn't she? I spat another glob of acid onto the plates, then, thinking better of it, reached to pull out the apron I had seen her wear before she began the house-cleaning rituals. I tied it on myself as best it could fit, though claws and too many tendrils got in the way. I tied it around my neck, choked, loosened it, then just gripped it with my mandibles, and began the busy process of cleaning the house.

Humans.

It was three hours later that there came a rattling and click from the door, but by no means was it from a key. I dozed upon the couch, stretched and comfortable while listening to the soft re-run of some show about human caging and retainment. It was about some strange fruit being the color of the void - or so the poets had claimed. The void was blue, and only one had ever understood the depth of that blue. I played quietly with the chord that ran to her box, and stared at the images that danced upon the screen, in so many shades and colors that I felt almost drunk on light. And as I lay upon the couch, I disipated into smoke and slid beneath it, to catch boots enter that did not belong to my human.

I heard a voice, deep, a baritone, as another set of steps fell behind. My gaze shifted, and I saw them - male humans who dared to enter into my domain, and disturb the chambers of my human. Their eyes flitted with greed, and their auras rippled with the tang of avarice. My stomach lurched, and I felt a desire to feed - for they broke my hospitality and protection of my guest and all she had. And while she intruded, she had respected me - and left me my shadows. And now, as they flickered the light on, I saw them reach their hands, filthy and stained and destroying my ordering and work to clean as she left it in my care. One eyed the television and its hypnotic lights. Another pulled open a drawer, violently, and rustled through for silverware.

And just as casually, a hand swept away the clean dishes that I had slaved over taking care of. It was not an act of greed, but of maliciousness, of dominance and control and violation. This I would not stand. And I disipated lower, becoming as airy as a dream, and I approached the wall and slid into it. My claws fluttered the electricity, setting the television to static, and a hiss that faded to a whine. The lightbulbs fluttered again, and a train rumbled by - that was not my fault, at least. I saw them spook a moment, then laugh, before starting to make a real mess of things.

And with a claw tip, I pressed into the main power source, and directed it away. The power cut out to the room with a click, and with the curtains drawn, the apartment was in a twilight, murky dark. It was here that I was at strength. With an effort of will, I manifested at the door, and used my tendrils, my many clicking legs to slam the door, and turn the dead bolt. My intruders, one pale, one dark as evening, turned to face the door. And then they screamed, as I manifested in my glory. I stood tall, my head pressed to the ceiling, and my fangs dripped, my teeth were as needles, and my tongue mouths snapped at them, flexing acid that burned. I snarled, all of my eyes gazed upon them. I closed upon them.

She would find no sign of intruders when she returned. The dishes were stacked neatly, the floor swept, and the television was off. The clocks would read a maddening 12:00 until she repaired it. Perhaps she noticed a few extra green papers on her silver plate, perhaps she might wonder about the lock pick that was in her trash. But, she did not ask. She did not think about it. No, she set her case down, collapsed upon the couch, and watched "The Netflix" until she started to doze.

I slept under her bed, full.

My human tossed and turned. Winter stained the windows with frost and she kept the heat low, to avoid having to pay too much for it - her savings were running out, and I could feel the stress as few wanted to hire 'a cripple'. Such pains were common now - it was the season of loss and pain and the dying of the world, where the darkness fluttered and danced and I was at my strongest. She tossed and turned, laying on the bed and staring at the clock. It would be another four hours before she would try to get up and keep pounding pavement. The Netflix had been turned off, and she had sold the television - as well as almost everything else she had, but her gun, her bed, and the fridge.

I watched her. A predator who stalked and hunted and starved, I felt a flash of rage for her. I perched upon her dresser, settled and comfortable and wrapping around it, like one would to climb any furniture. My claws settled under my skull, and I licked idly at the blood-stain on my claws. A raccoon had gotten far too close to the window, and I had pounced to devour the beast. Its skull was shaped much like mine I had thought, as I stared on it before biting into it, to get at the brain inside. My skull had the vague shape, I had concluded, but it was pointless sheath gazing. No, what was important was I had fed, and now I watched my human suffer - and felt impotent.

How had it come that I was drawn to her, my intruder, and now my companion. How was it that I saw in her worthiness. She tossed again and then slammed her head into the pillow. Her back was to me, and she could not see, though perhaps feel, my eyes staring to her. I slowly dropped from the dresser as she kicked at the blankets and pulled them up again. A light shiver passed across her. Her breath was frost in the air, mine didn't occur, for I did not breath. I crept over and settled against the bed, before rising up, and settling down, stretching out upon it. It creaked. She stiffened.

I touched her shoulder, and moved up behind her - though not to touch, but to share a moment of presence. My insides churned, like the thundering of the sky, and I felt the electrical discharge of her nerves near me. I drew the blanket up slowly, as she drifted into the lightest state of sleep. Here, I drew the blanket up, until it covered to her neck, and placed my hand upon her side. She stiffened again, and I lay my skull upon her brow. I coiled slowly, the darkness slowly wrapping her - and in irony, I was warmer than the room, for she still had no heat.

In those moments, I wrapped her, surrounded her, veiled her in darkness of my cold body. I veiled her, and I sunk into her - letting her feel me, even if it was only in dreams. Her eyes, so beautiful, stared up at me, and I gazed down upon her. She did not run, she did not shriek, flail, or fight. No, she measured me, and I her. And she smiled.

Her dreams came then - and I watched her, as she relived memories, and stood in fantastic places. And I saw both horror, and wonder, mystery and story in her secret place. There, I touched her, and was welcomed, a monster in the glen of her imaginings. It was beautiful, and I did not mind this light - for she welcomed me. Her smile was genuine and I knew she needed me, as I had found that, strangely, I needed her. Predators, the two of us. I watched her dreams - as she showed me her story - and I shielded her from those that would cause her the hardest pain - when she had been violated, and lost her arm, and the ache of rejection.

I had guarded her home. And now, I guarded her dreams. I would keep her, and I would provide for her.

She was mine. I am a jealous beast. And I do not share lightly.