Feed, Page 4

loudly, but to himself. I could see through the darkness a figure standing next to a small sports car. Steam poured from under the open hood. I was next to him in seconds. A salesman-looking type, with perfect hair and a perfect car, was having a really bad day. He never felt me snap his neck. I threw him over my shoulder and carried him back to my place. My newly acquired fangs tore into his neck quite well. I fed for twenty minutes enjoying the fruits of my labors, feeling his blood flow down my throat. Like I said before, I was a god.

  Before disposing of the body, I pulled his wallet out. Always could use a few extra bucks. A picture stared at me upon its opening. There was my salesman friend with his mousy brunette wife and two children. As a matter of fact, he had stuffed his wallet full of photos of his family. The children each wore glasses and braces. They were perfectly imperfect, and the most beautiful family I’d ever seen. I collapsed to my knees and wailed out loud. Gods have no right … I had no right. Mourning, I carried him back to his car. His family needed closure; I owed them that. Leaving his money, I kept a picture. To always remember I’m no god.

  Nights continued to drag on as time passed. I tended to stay close and only feed on the street people and derelicts that were brought to me. I found this somewhat acceptable; most were living on the cusp, the throwaways. Most were already thought of as dead by society and probably their families. I felt the power building in my body as my skin grew colder. I was a caged animal held back by the leash of guilt. I studied the picture of the family every night. I knew the freckles that were splashed across the bridge of the boy’s nose, glasses pushed up tightly against his face. The girl had the same mousy look as her mother, but her smile was infectious, the glint of her braces catching the flash of the photographer's light. They were happy, the family that I destroyed. They were.

  Walking the streets, I found myself looking into the faces of people. I wondered how many were feeling the hunger. It is for more than food; it’s also the need to dream. Just as important. You can always die if you choose it. Penny chose it by walking into the sun, in the same way others choose by living mundane lives ... never dreaming ... never reaching ... never feeding their hunger. So many blank faces, tilting back their beers and staring into space. Perched on their barstools as a television drones out the daily sports scores that will not matter to anyone when they’re dead. Were they dead already? Never to taste the nectars of life or feel the sun upon their face? I see more clearly now through the eyes of a demon the humanity we all should cherish. Our precious time with each other is often the price we pay for our hunger, our need to ... feed. We are not gods and monsters, but merely men. No one is immortal

  I knew it was time to move on. I didn’t know where I was going, but I felt I couldn’t stay in front of the unmarked graveyard. I had seen excavation equipment parked in the lot. The old strip-mall was due for demolition and no longer could be my sanctuary, especially if they started digging up the lot behind. I figured, perhaps I could move to farmlands. Maybe the sheep idea wasn’t too bad. I could have bet people were a lot more tolerant about a few missing sheep than neighbors. By taking off before midnight, I was sure I could find a nice dark barn or even basement in the pre-dawn hours. But I knew there was one more stop before I left.

  Her light was on. I had planned to swing by just to reminisce before straddling the bike again. It seemed luck was on my side and I could steal a final glimpse. As I climbed the tree, a white ribbon with a key dangled from the limb; my limb. An open invitation. I climbed back down. The porch light dimly lit the small set of steps, casting a yellowish glow upon the white door. I tried the knob; it was open. The key had merely been symbolic. It swung silently inward on the hinges.

 

  I had never before noticed how sparsely furnished the downstairs room was decorated. Why would I? The show had been on the second floor. The only light in the room was at the top of the landing where she stood. It passed through her sheer robe, revealing her form in silhouette. Even after the years of watching her dance, I couldn’t find the courage to utter a single word. She descended the stairway slowly and gracefully. Her feet seemed to float across the floor until she laid her hand upon my chest. Closing her eyes and inhaling deeply, the edges of her lips turned up as she exhaled a slight moan.

  “Yes.” She breathed through slightly parted lips. “Perfect.” She probed a finger inside my mouth, and then tasted it. “Truly perfect.”

  I could only stand and watch. There was no tomorrow, only now. It was all that mattered. She took me by the hand and led me to a door below the steps.

  “Wait,” I managed to stammer, “isn’t the bed upstairs?”

  She began to laugh. The hand holding mine clamped on tighter than I thought was possible. Her hair faded to white and her skin grayed. The green eyes that shone with the elegance of an emerald turned milky with the millennia of years and began to glow red. A small golden ring gleamed off the ghoul’s earlobe. I could see its true form, a hunched-over beast. I pitied the part that used to be human, long gone in the ages of the Old Ones.

  “I have a special place for you,” the thing hissed. “But first, a little snack.” It lifted my hand to its mouth and bit off my thumb. I screamed in pain. It continued chewing as it led me down the stairs to the basement. There were four hooks hanging from the ceiling. One was occupied by a body stabbed through the back. He was missing both legs and an arm.

  “Wh-wh-what the hell? What’s going on?”

  It chortled and crunched loudly on what remained of my thumb. Then it pulled my face close to it. As it spoke, a red spray of spittle mixed with my blood coated my face.

  “Humans are too tender and die too quickly. Spoils the meat, you see. Now, a fresh newly mature vampire is a meal that stays delicious for years. I fed you and gave you what you needed. Now that you’ve completely turned, I will take what is mine.”

  With little effort, it lifted me onto a hook. I bellowed as the hook pierced my back and held me hanging between my shoulder blades. While the ghoul ripped off my clothes, I watched the photo of the perfect family drift down to the floor below. Even from that distance, I could still count every freckle on the boy’s face.

  For months it has been feeding on my body. I can’t even begin to explain how it feels to be eaten alive when you cannot die. I suppose when it has eaten too much, I will cease to exist. It pours blood down our throats to keep us alive but little else. I don’t know when I really died. Perhaps it was the moment Penny bit me, or when Howard passed away in my arms. I think it’s when I destroyed the family. I deserve to die; I am a monster.

  The lucky soul on the other hook stopped screaming as the ghoul fed a couple weeks ago. I didn’t look to see how much was left. I didn’t want to know. I don’t know if it was proper, but I prayed for him.

  It strips the skin away and eats inches at a time. I know I don’t have much life left. My limbs have been gone for weeks. I felt my entrails release onto the floor yesterday.

  As it feeds, I close my eyes …

  … And I am walking into the surf, the water licking my shins. Blue skies with hazy clouds floating by, all so perfect. The children have taken off their glasses to play and build sand castles. Penny bids them over to help Max dig the moat around his fortress. She stands and comes to my side, wrapping her arms around me. The ebbing tides reclaim the white sands from beneath our feet as we walk down the shoreline. Smiling, she lays her head upon my chest and I tilt my head to the sky. Doesn’t the sun feel great on my face?!!