Short Story: The Beast With the Red Tongue (July 29, 2014) The beast had a tongue that was red. Everyday, your blood dripped from its tongue. Your body is numb, crippled and almost dead. Wounds lead to scars that you will never forget. Fight excites your mind. The allure of killing the beast has you begging to see it again. Out of the corner of your left eye emerges the beast. Screams are your battle call. Your hands are your weapons and its power as well as its teeth wants your meat. One stiff motion towards the beast's mouth through its body cavity and out of its ass. Your hand is covered in blood with the body of the beast as your trophy. You do not want to eat its flesh and there are no regrets. This is the night that you finally sleep in peace. Like I said before, the beast had a tongue that was red. Now, the tongue is purple, eyes decay and the body in on a beach nearby. All of the beast's teeth are your new necklace and you have survived one night in this jungle. Tomorrow, there will be a struggle for survival but that is of the future. You have won and nothing can stop you from doing the same thing on tomorrow. No beast or plague can stop the passion of your never dying quest to be the top of the food chain and the new conqueror of the jungle.