Ripped
(formerly entitled "Heart of Darkness")


The night was calm and crisp, but she still ran as fast and as far as she could.  A thin layer of snow 
covered the ground between thick, giant trees, leafless, with branches stretching towards the stars 
like macabre arms of fate.  A full moon was partially visible overhead, slightly obscured by the 
large bulk of dead foliage.  Its light was bright but harsh, casting skeletal shadows over everything, 
but providing no refuge.
	But she didn't really care what sort of protection she could receive.  Her feet were the only 
things on which she could ever rely.
	So she ran.
	She ran on and on, constantly pressing the images and thoughts out of her mind, hoping 
they would leave her mind the further she ran.  But they would never leave her.  Those pictures 
were permanently etched into her mind, and would haunt her for the rest of her life.
	The forest was immense - seemingly infinite - but she knew that eventually she would 
come upon a village or road, something.  She lived alone with her elderly grandfather, an old 
cripple - kind yet harsh, soft yet endlessly demanding.  Their small wooden shack was located far 
from everything, with no neighbours close enough to be called such.  The closest village was a 
great distance away, and no one ever came to their home.
	At least until that night.

	The night was particularly calm and peaceful.  The rising of the full moon in a cloudless 
night caused an evil sensation spread over the land.  A sudden dark shadow enveloped the land.
	Chopping wood for the small fireplace in the shack was an endless job, one never finished 
to satisfaction.  It took her away from the house, away from the security that she had always 
known.
	And in her brief absence, the truest evil had appeared to do its carnage.
	With an armload of chopped wood, she came upon the door of the shack, partially open.  
Echoing from inside came the sounds of physical exertion and a sort of masochistic pleasure.  The 
shack seemed black from actions occurring inside, yet still she entered.
	Her first instinct was to immediately drop the wood and assist her grandfather.  With the 
glazed look already over his eyes as he lay in a ball in the middle of the floor, she knew that she 
was too late.  Like a broken doll, he lay strewn on the floor, unable to have defended himself 
against the constant onslaught of violence bestowed upon him.  He looked hollowly at her, his last 
painful expression still on his face and his screams never to be heard again.
	His attackers stood around him with large broken and bloodied clubs gripped tightly in their 
hands, looking gleefully at their conquest.  Their eyes brightened at her sudden entrance - a new 
kill that would provide more satisfaction than this pitiful, frail old man had rendered them.
	And so they turned to her.
	Before she had time to turn away, the stick of one hit her strong and square in the knees, 
sending her sprawling to the floor.  Within seconds they were upon her, hitting her with their 
clubs, and laughing as they started to tear away at her clothes, sadistically seeing other pleasures 
they knew they would see that night.
	There were six of them - gnomes the only word that could come to her mind.  (What type 
of man would be able to do so hideous a thing?)  Their faces were twisted with intense pleasure 
and satisfaction.  They looked down on her as they tore at her skin, looking at her with the light of 
eternal darkness.  Their eyes danced with fire, the fire she felt starting to consume her as well.
	The torment seemed endless - intense pain from countless wounds and bruises - but that 
was nothing compared to the feeling as one of the creatures crawled onto the floor beside her.  He 
ripped whatever scraps of clothing still clung to her.  His hot tongue licked up and down her face 
savagely, potent fumes breathing over her.  Each took his turn with her, but her screams only 
seemed to make them happier, and more eager to savour the moment, so she tried to silence 
herself.
	Death could not have felt any worse, but as they tired of her, their attention returned to that 
of her lifeless grandfather.  The old man lay in an ever increasing pool of blood, now big enough 
that it covered the feet of the gnomes as they trampled through it.  With their sticks they poked at 
the corpse, doing detestable things to it.
	The evil reached its peak.  The diabolical sense of despair hung so strongly that she could 
just reach out and touch it.
	And that was what she did.
	It was raw power - absolute, complete and overwhelming.  The hatred in the room seeped 
into her bones, into her veins and heart, and into her mind.  She wanted nothing but to destroy 
these monsters.  With one swift, painful movement of her bloodied arm, she swept the room of 
everything inhuman.
	The power jolted her, but it only increased as she in return heard the sounds of screaming 
and pain, relishing and delighting at it.  The creatures fell and squirmed on the floor, grasping their 
heads and speaking monstrosities.  A dark smile crept over her face, and she knew the power that 
they felt.  She shared it.  And with their deaths, it was gone, but it left its recognizable memory.

	She ran.
	Black clouds wafted in front of the moon, casting hideous shadows that occasionally hid 
her face from the light.  The True Light she would never see again.  She would never be able to 
see it again.  She would never let herself see it again.  She had opened herself to evil, and had been 
overcome by it, overpowered to the point of possession.  The light would never again see her face.
	She sought for where the power came from, but all she could find was the eternal 
Darkness in her heart.  The only thing to do was run.  Run away from that place, that Place of 
Darkness where her light had been swallowed.  She ran and ran, trying to escape from those 
images, from the feelings of mirth and joy at those evil thoughts.  But they followed her, and as 
they became overwhelmingly clear, began to swallow her up.
	The Darkness was rich and prevalent, sunken deep into her soul, spreading as she tried to 
deny it.  But it was too strong.  She would completely succumb to it if she did not do something.
And so she did something.
	She stopped running.  She turned around and looked back.  A path of Darkness led back 
the way she had come, despite the bright moon.  She saw the black shadow trailing into her heart, 
where it festered and expanded.  It pulsated through her, eating away at everything good in her.
	And so, taking a firm deep breath, she plunged her hands into it - into her - digging out 
the source of the Darkness inside her.  This pulsating beat drummed in her hands, but as she 
severed it and ripped it from its lodgings, it slowed and stopped, still hot in her hands.
	The Darkness left her, and she collapsed, bloody, into the snow.

January 19, 1998