The Philosophy of the Feral Hunt

They looked at me with utter disgust on their faces, their expressions contorting into masks of hatred and loathing as I was dragged across the streets, seemingly humiliated, defeated, caught. A murderer, psychopath, beast, finally receiving his due. Yet as they read their judgments, I laughed inside.

The crowd of hypocrites had come to stroke their ego, to see how low they had not openly sunk themselves – They had concealed their crimes in their subconscious, they refused to see the stains of world-wide corruption inside their hearts.

Through their neglect and opulence, thousands of the poor suffer and die, forgotten, brushed aside. Their leaders would, will and even now conquer and destroy more in pursuit of land and profit without hesitation or remorse, untouched by the decisions they make, never seeing the consequences of their actions in person. The sorrow, anguish and devastation become cold numbers in the reports they receive.

And what of those who say they would combat this feast of cruelty? Their ranks are scattered, divided, and effectively restrained by political play and differing interests… Few are truly concerned; it serves their cause of power to give empty promises and humane pledges, to be a part of a community who supposedly opposes slavery, oppression and violence…

When their forces arrive in these crisis areas, there is nothing they can do but sit and watch as the conflict ensues around them, for back home, selfish forces are more worried of their own financial status and diplomatic edge than the inhabitants being dismembered in wherever these ‘peacekeepers’ were sent to. The ones they came to stop mock them, and I mock them as well.

Scum. At least dictatorships are honest. At least I am honest!

What are a few lives taken by my hand if not a drop in the ocean – I may be condemned by their morals, but who is to judge when everyone is guilty of sin?

We are all murderers; we all feed the machine of hate. We all support our governments who refuse to do nothing, we all indulge in the modern day consumption our planet cannot support – We are not only responsible for the agony of those living in the present day, but for the diminished quality of life of those who come after us… The buried irradiated waste, the woodlands cut bare, and the destruction of indigenous life…

I have accepted and embraced the feral nature of the human race, and will as such be incarcerated for life. I admit it freely: I am a parasite! I kill for pleasure, and will be bound eternally – But even alone in my cell, I find endless amusement in the irony of it all. I suffer punishment, technically atone for my sins, but ah, the rest of the world…

The ones who have not yet understood the viral nature of the human race are so conflicting – They tear sizzling flesh from charred muscles and think nothing of it, yet some are appalled by the idea of eating organs… Neither do they like to reflect on the fact that they are enjoying the result of systematic exploitation and murder of innumerable life forms.

The most disgusting thought of all is as follows: To consume the flesh of another human being; and yet they are fascinated by the death of their kin – They read and watch of people killing people, and at night, they dream of it… And then they kiss, feeling the soft flesh on their tongue, unaware of what dark subliminal notions could be behind it all…

The clangs and echoing screams of the asylum often interrupt, but this time, it is different. I hear someone coming, leisurely footsteps, getting louder… The highlight of the day approaches. One of my jailors is near.

These simple men are an endless source of entertainment; so small-minded that they are more caged than their prisoners. And yet, there is a seed of enlightenment to their condition – They dimly grasp our inability to conquer our violent tendencies, and have succumbed to their primal desires accordingly. They exemplify the corruption of our day, for even in these halls in the middle of a civilized state are their unspeakable acts allowed to continue.

They used to beat me; beat my face to a disfigured pulp. I laughed throughout, spitting in their pitiful faces. They need to crack me, they are dependant on their apparent power over me – It is the only reason they know to exist, and it is satisfying to deny them that. They have more or less given up by now… They cannot kill me, they cannot eat me.

They can only have fun with me for a while, for the time it takes to show themselves and their small-minded crowd that they are in control. But they will never break me. They have tried other ways to show me their godlike status here; they offer me extra food, drink, even female prisoners in exchange for apparently nothing – But I know better. No pleasure they can offer can exceed their expressions when I refuse.

How they fear their chained monster… The civilized world could not look into my eyes, and neither can they. The darkness that I represent lives inside them, and they have to look away from the truth.

But the game ends tonight. I am free, and the tables shall turn. My jailors will come to know power, and then…

The hunt continues.