Seaside Moors come, little children

@Thane

Dusk licked crossed the universal expanse, its dark fingers caressing in a sinister carillon of shade and shadows. Declaration; oh how the orb of night did summon the hound of hell from the depths of purgatory. Beneath the ever-watchful eye of the dainty, milky moon, the serpent weaved beneath its gilding effulgence. 

Paw pads, inky black, would disperse beneath his massive weight to stretch over the barren terrain as he glissaded across the landscape. Covert, basked in the lethality of silence would he travel. Garments woven of short fibers, drenched in midnight serenity were but thrown over the beast, cinched tightly at his chest that rolled upwards into his lithe abdomen and insatiate belly. And oh, how he hungered. The serpent had not eaten in what could have been days. His sense of time was distorted, and the man merely wandered. Glazed eyes stared unseeing before him, his parted jaws aimed towards the ground. No mad grin cracked the features of his face. No crazed, euphoric cackle ripped from his chords. The silver-tongued snake was silenced.

Blood.

The liquid foamed at his lips, mixing with his saliva, dripping from his open mouth and staining what little white was on his chest. Dirt shifted beneath his monstrous paws, starved body coming to a rapid halt as a quiver licked down his emaciated sides. Distorted and strangled was the guttural sound which rose from the depths of his chest, blood-curdling and bone-chilling; animalistic and unnatural against the shadows of the witching hours of the night.