Read I Shouldn't Think | Tapas Web Community

Flail has kept to scream loud. Loud like peckers. Scary peckers, but peckers will eat me. Flail will not. Flail only flails and cries. That's why I call it that. Flail spends its time against the wall, not on it. Not like me. At the bottom. Like a cricket, but Flail is not a cricket. Flail has no cricket smell. Flail smells like the Bringer, Flail sounds like the Bringer a few times. The Bringer now brings the wriggly things too close to me and gives Flail mounds of things.

Flail didn't touch the mounds, but after a few darks it has started to.

I shift in my place and Flail jumps before making a bad hissing sound with its face mound before eating another bit of food mound. Staring at me with its two eyes. I don't take my eyes off it. Not for a moment. My eyes, not just two, all on it. It takes its eyes off me. Flicks back to stare. Often it does. Many times. Back, forth. Six or seven times.

I shouldn't know. Amounts. But I do. Doesn't matter. So long as it stays there and I stay here. It wrinkles its face when watching me. Like its eyes are stuck on me. It huddled to corner. Huddled and wriggly like the wriggly things I eat. Makes me hungry. Upset. I can't eat Flail. It makes me hungry. I can't let my caution down. It might hurt me. But it acts like food. It is wriggly. It is avoiding me. It should be food.

The Bringer brought it. The Bringer always brings food. Flail could be food. Not food I can eat. Which is annoying. I am hungry. I can't hunt. I can't catch food. Flail should be food. The Bringer brings Flail food too. Which means it isn't. No less for me. Just scary.

I shift again and Flail lets out a shout. Effectively startling me off the wall.

"Oh please! Stay over there! Please! Please! Please! Don't come near me!" It screeches.

My body hurts. It made me fall. I hate it. I hate Flail. I wish Flail were food. I want it dead. It makes me hungry. I'm hunrgy enough. I'm starving.

I slunk back in place. Keep my eyes on it. As it sputters. Loud. Crying. Huddled to its corner. It is big! It isn't food! It can hurt me! It shouldn't cry! It has no reason to! I have more limbs, I have more eyes! I should be able to eat it! Yet I can't. I can count when I shouldn't. I can think when I shouldn't. But when I want. To eat. Something I shouldn't. Suddenly I do things I should. I can't eat it. It is too big. Too dangerous. Too annoying.

"I-I'll stay over here! I-f you! Stay over there! We–we don't have to...meet. That can be your side, and this can be mine." It says.

Flail slowly begins to stand. With its five limb paws on the wall. Eyes wide. At me. Like I'm the scary one. I am weak. Limp. Easily startled off. It makes me mad. That it is so scared. I am scared. I should flinch. Not it. Me. Flinch. I do. Then it screams more. I hate it. I am so scared. It is not fair. That it is scared.

It presses hard against the wall. Shifting. Across slowly. Keeping at me. It gets to the square light. Flips. Then begins its screaming. Like usual. Hurtful sounds. After many darks. It keeps doing this. Screaming out the light. It must be calling. Calling for more. Like group crawlers. Wrigglers that fight in many. In need of more. To hurt me.

"Someone! Anyone! Is anyone there?! Please! Help me! Help me please! Anyone?! I can hear you! Guh! Oh come get me!" It lets out the poor hisses again before crying louder.

"Help me! Help me please! I shouldn't be here! Oh goodness please!" It screeches.

It shakes and slips down. Back to the floor. Sobbing. Defeated. Now is my chance! I take it. I skitter to the left.

I have won. I have returned. Home. Less pain in home. My little home. I shouldn't have a home. I am supposed to hunt. Always. But I do. I have a home. I shouldn't be able to eat Flail. Why couldn't that. The one I do when I shouldn't. Stupid. Starving. Doing everything I shouldn't. Except. Eat.

I can't cry. Like Flail. I am better. Like that. I should be able to cry. But I can't. I think. I did once. It burned. A lot. Painfully burned. Now I can't. Which is good. No burn.

"I want to go home." Flail whimpers.

It opens its eyes. From the curl it is in. Looking at me.

"I want to get away from you!" It says.

Look at it. Disgusting me. I'm not interested in it. Yet I have to. Watch it. To prevent.

Death.

Maybe.

Bubbing at me. It is making me think up words. I shouldn't do that. It is making me exhausted. It is infuriating. It should leave. The Bringer should unbring it. Like it does. It unbrings. Takes away. The empty food shells. Of the wriggly things.

The door opens. In comes the Bringer. I am excited.

"Helloooo, grub time!" It says.

Flail jumps up. Makes it for the door. The Bringer catches it. Throws it back.

"Naughty!" It says throwing Flail's food mounds at its head.

"You're sweet to me. Itsy bitsy thing aren't you!" It says. Putting wriggly things on the floor. For me.

"What the fuck do you want from me?! Why am I here?! What did I do to deserve this?!" Flail screeches out.

Covered in its food mounds. I need to wait. My food can't see me. I need to attack. But the Bringer. In the way. I'm hungry. Very. It hurts.

"Awww, like a little rabbit. Wouldn't that be cute." The Bringer says.

"You're a lunatic! Let me out of here!" Flail screams.

It throws itself. The Bringer catches it. The Bringer slams it down again.

"A jack rabbit maybe? Could work." The Bringer says. Still held. On it. Flail.

"Please. Just. I'll do anything! Just let me go! Please. Is it money? Do you want information? I'm only a entomologist I don't know much! Or have much." Flail cries.

"Definitely some sort of rabbit." The Bringer says.

It drops Flail. Flail isn't moving. Not much. Defeated again. It leaves. Now. I can eat.

Now that I can. I launch. At one. One of the wriggly things. I bite. It stops moving. I smash it up. I drink. I repeat. To the next. Dangerous to eat. With Flail not distracted.

I am starving. I have to eat. My wriggly things. I don't enjoy. They are not enough. I need more. More. I have another. One tries to get. Doesn't work. I get it. Another. Again.

Almost gone. One more! I know! One more! Somewhere! Where?! My wriggly thing! It isn't enough! But it is something!

I look up to search. There! By Flail. It doesn't even notice. Careful. Gentle. I crawl. Towards Flail. Closer. Closer. Stop! Holding.....further. Closer. Near enough. Slowly.

It whimpers. Against the wall. Bleeding. I can smell. It rocks. Slow. Like one hard wriggly thing. Upside down. But Flail is on its side.

Right there. The wriggly thing. It is eating. Flail's mounds. Food mounds. Not face mound. Careful. Flail so close. It can hurt me. It might. Focus.

I bite.

Flail doesn't notice.

Slowly.

I go back. Keeping my eyes. On it. To my home. I finish. My body hurts. Agonizingly. Not enough. Just not enough. I need more. More. I'm so hungry. My eyes begin to hurt. Burn. I can.

I cry. I am so hungry. The Bringer brings nothing! Nothing! Just enough to live. I want to drop. On my back. My legs curled in. Dead. Pain goes away then.

It should. Dead. No fear. No worry.

I don't. I can't. I won't.

The light. It drifts. Getting dim. Flail isn't moving. I am scared. Flail will get me. When I rest. Like a squeaker. A dark hunter. It moves! Up the wall. Over there. To a crack. Like it does. Every night. Pulling at it. Something.

I am frightened.

I ignore. My best. To rest.

To...

.re..s..t

"Help! Anybody!" It screams.

Startled. Again. Not down. Not this time. This time I stayed. It is light. Flail continues. Less...forceful. Weaker. It stopped. Sooner.

It doesn't sob. It looks finished. Defeated. Again. I am starting to relate. The door. Opens. The Bringer enters. With...nothing.

No wriggly things.

But I am so hungry.

I'm beginning to hate it too!

"Good afternoon!" It says.

Flail does not move. But Flail watches. Me. Not the Bringer.

"Isn't it gorgeous? Such a little creature." It says.

"It is not little." Flail says. Quick.

"It is my one success. My eight legged bug. All the others died so tragically. So poorly. Barely finished. Or so dumb I fed them to others. They died too." It says.

Flail curls. Still watching. Me.

"Little jumpers, so intelligent, one of the smallest there is. I say, the cutest too! Look at it! Isn't it adorable?! It is. Little thing." It says. It grabs. Flail.

Flail squirms.

It presses its face into Flail's. Face mound to cheek.

"Your skin isn't right. It should be rougher. Like fur. I can do that. Hair to fur. If something so small is big to you," It says.

Flail hits. Poorly. Nothing much happens. But it hits. A lot.

"It's wrong. All wrong. I'll fix you up. Just how you should be. How god intended you to be. Not what you think you are." It says.

Petting Flail.

"Let me go!" Flail cries.

Struggling hard.

"I'll fix you. Your phase is over. You need to stop acting like–" The Bringer doesn't get to finish. Flail got its eye.

Flail gets to the door.

The Bringer gets to Flail.

At the ankle.

It swings. Flail hits. The wall, by its back. It gags. Crying on the floor.

"Rotten spoiled pathetic fucking thing! No food for you! Not until you learn to act like what you're supposed to be! Rabbits don't gouge eyes." It says.

It bleeds. Its eye is bloody.

It grabs Flail again.

"What are you?! Hm?! What are you?!" It says.

"I-I'm an en–" Flail doesn't finish. The Bringer slams it to the floor.

"I SAID WHAT ARE YOU!" It screams.

"I'm a Mother!" Flail cries.

It slams.

"WRONG!" It screams again.

"I don't know what you're asking! Euagh, please! Geh, ge-heha. Ugrrrg." Flail cries.

It presses. Flail. By the head. Into the floor. Hard.

"I asked what you are." It says. Harsh, but quiet.

"I-I'm ah, a, uh, human." Flail whimpers out.