by The Scribe of the Dead

There are limits to the amount of pain one can tolerate. When that threshold has been violated, one will quickly succumb to insanity.

Dua, my best friend in the world, is now rapidly deteriorating into madness at the hands of her heartless torturer. We’ve known each other our entire short lives, so it’s terrifying to witness the horrific brutality that she is suffering, knowing that I will soon be next.

She screams in agony, begging her captor to end her misery with a quick and painless death. Her face is almost entirely gone, being ripped cruelly away as she cries out:

“Please stop! Please, I beg of you! What have I done? What is it that you want from me? Kill me already, I can’t stand this any longer!”

Her desperate pleading goes unheard. The monstrous beast continues to flay her, seemingly ignorant of her suffering. His massive claws curl under her flesh and with a single violent motion he peels away what little of her beautiful face remains and casually discards it, as if it were no more than mere rubbish. Her sobbing has ceased and she is now muttering incomprehensibly.

I cry out, “You vile demon, she’s helpless and innocent! Why are you doing this to us? We’ve done you no harm!”

I too am ignored.

The beast begins to chant a tuneless mantra of homicidal nonsense that clearly brings him great joy. I can only watch in utter terror as he grasps my Dua’s sweet head in his gargantuan paws and then violently bashes it wide open upon his sacrificial table.

Her blood spills out and I cringe in terror. With a gleaming spade of silver he begins to scoop out her brains and eat them. I believe I must be suffering from delusional insanity because the sight before me seems cartoonish and foreign. He spoons another lump of moist pulp into his mouth and chews noisily. He grunts with pleasure, smacking his lips as her life blood dribbles messily down his chin.

I’m utterly incapable of comprehending what I’m seeing. What is this foul nightmare that I’m forced to behold?

He brushes Dua aside and now his eyes fall upon me. I feel a sharp sting as his nails dig into my face. I now fully comprehend the intolerable pain that she suffered before he dealt the fatal blow that ended her short life. I accept the inevitability of my own death and I’m oddly comforted by the hope that I might join Dua once again in the afterlife.

The beast rips and tears. I scream silently as he shreds and rends my flesh.

He continues his dissonant harmony. It reverberates throughout my skull:

“Put the lime in the coconut, you drink ‘em both up! She put the lime in the coconut, called the doctor, woke ‘em up! Doctor, ain’t there nothing I can take to relieve this belly-ache?

MOM! The coconuts are ready!”