Wonder
it tastes better
He shouldn’t be here.
“You must be lost.”
When he speaks, I tilt my head and smile, but only slightly. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen another person, and this one is so pretty.
The leaves above us rustle as wind gusts through the lush canopy, and he looks up with a breathy sigh before he continues.
“It’s so peaceful here.”
His lips are violet in the cool air, and I can’t help staring at them as he turns his gaze back to me.
“How long have you been in these woods? Are you alone?”
The second is a dangerous question. I shrug, and he leaves off his questions for an explanation.
“We’re hiking over by the river. It’s not far.”
We.
It’s not a word I like.
My bare toes dig into the mushy soil beneath my feet, my rough skin immune to the scratchy brush neither of us can see. He slaps at a mosquito as it tugs on his eyebrow. A tiny dot of blood at the edge of the rough hairs shines in the last light of the setting sun.
I am all too familiar with the soft oranges and pinks of the sinking orb, the blend of colors that slowly give way to the darkness. Here within these close set trees, that dark is deliciously absolute.
He pokes his thumb over his shoulder and nods encouragingly.
“We can help you get back home. Were you camping here with your family?”
A squirrel burrows near my foot; his brisk tail tickles the tips of my toes. Usually I don’t wander this close to the park, but I’ve been hungry.
This squirrel feels well-fed, as if he’s been diving into trash bins full of picnic leftovers and fast food crumbs. He is plump and eager, like a child waking from a nap.
It’s hard to remember a time when I was the same.
My arms ache on the inside, where the blood stretches thin and true, tight and corded like the wandering twigs of an aged tree. Brittle spikes poke at the walls of my veins.
I have lived too long in this forest; and yet, not long enough.
“This is the path I took. Isn’t it?”
He sounds unsure after he turns and takes a few steps away from me. The thud of his step is uneven, uncertain. These trees can swallow a man - or a girl - whole.
But he’s headed in the right direction, and it won’t be long before the opening into the hiking trail will yawn before him. I stay a short distance behind, so no one might see me in his wake.
I’m not sure how far I intend to go.
Shouts from beyond the treeline ignite the desire within me, and I snatch at his wrist, clawing at the burbling pulse inside. They always cry out, but I stop this one with a quick grab at his throat, right under his chin.
The crescent shaped bone clicks satisfyingly, and he groans, his eyes wide with wonder.
Where is the fear?
The wonder tastes better, I realize with some surprise. After I feed, I resolve to ensure the next one feels the same before I relieve them of their life.
I don’t drink coffee anymore but I adore matcha. You can buy me one or just click over and take a look at some random photos and snag a free black cat lined notebook page PDF to print or use with any PDF annotation app.
This story is very well written despite making me uncomfortable. I think it's more horrifying because it doesn't feel like part of a horror genre. And in some ways it's not horrifying if you look at it from the perspective of a wild creature/human living by instinct. Which is horrifying in itself to think of