Exe switched on the light and, on cue, the screaming started – hysterical, tortured sounds that Exe knew were not coming out of pain. He knew, because Exe knew pain. He knew it by the expression in the eyes; conjuring pity. By smell; the salty sweat released from the exhausted being. By touch; the heat emanating from the feverish body.
Knowing this, Exe knew that the helpless, shapeless creature that now lay before him beholding its own reflection was not screaming out of pain but in horror; revulsion at the beast it had now become.
Exe put away his tools and smiled at a job well done.
This was for Friday Fictioneers and inspired by the picture below. Not what you were expecting, huh?