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And for what? To prove you're not a feckless bitch? Yeah, good luck with that.
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Submitted by DaBeast at 2016-02-04 22:54:56 EST
Rating: 2.0 on 7 ratings (7 reviews) (Review this item) (V)

I remember the taste of your blood.

In the alley in that city on that far away night when you hungered and I fed you and then you fed me. I could not kill you then. I can not kill you now.

Does that make me a failure?

The sky is clear, the moon is bright even here in the slums of the Chattanooga Valley and you're bent over the dishes in your sink, oblivious to the world around you. The light is old and yellow, your hair dark and shiny, the dilapidated surroundings shadowed and still. I take a slow inhalation to clear the memory of hot salty red from my tongue.

You were so young in that far away place, tiny and pale and quick. I remember pulling you out of the garbage can. I remember the stench of charred meat and the eagerness in your eyes when I offered you a bag filled with it. Your appetite voracious, your skin pulled so tightly against your skull, and that thrumming little flutter at the base of your neck. You smelled like refuse and desperation and fear. As soon as I smelled you, I knew a monster would come for you. If not that night, then another. You were ripe for it.

So, I came for you. Better me than another, I reasoned way back then.

You played your part beautifully. A veritable Tiny Tim with no one to wonder what happened when you vanished. No one to care.

That realization stirred my heart into one solitary beat and the pain in my chest was like fire.

I ignored it when I shouldn't have and kept to my simple little plot but when push came shoving, I could not end you. When I tasted your memories, it was accompanied with shame. You that had lost every single thing and person you had ever loved and there I was, ready to take the very last thing you possessed.

I could not.

So, you ended in a hospital in that far away place in the long ago. But just as I could not end you, I also could not eradicate you from my thoughts.

You became an obsession for me. I tracked you, kept tabs on your associates, and intervened when I felt it necessary. I could not end you and would be damned before I would allow another to do it. You traveled the country and, for a while, I feared you would wander abroad but that never came to pass. From abject poverty you've risen a little but you never tripped into something that would free you completely.

I know your son sleeps in a room behind the kitchen, your wife in your bedroom, and you aren't able to sleep. Something's worrying you. So, you stand at the sink and clean dishes and ponder dark thoughts there alone.

You don't remember me. I tested it and bumped into you the other day, smiled at you and said something trivial about the weather. You were polite and distant but I had tasted your blood so I could sense your surface thoughts and recognition was nowhere to be found.

This is a good thing.

I will continue to keep my distance. Someday, you will know about me. It's inevitable. Someday, a monster will come calling and I will have to reveal myself.

You finish with the dishes, turn away from the window and disappear past the wall. The light dies and I sense you moving deeper into the house and into your bedroom.

Tonight is not that night.

Yes, it makes me a failure. I can live with that.

There's just enough time before dawn for a hunt. Good. I feel like monkey tonight. The zoo's to the north and the walls aren't that high and if I bring some bananas, Mongo won't mind if I tap the keg a little.

The darkness swallows me up.

Vampire Monkey Says Fuck You.jpg
Vampire Monkey Says Fuck You.jpg

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Submitted by ilikesteak at 2016-02-16 22:09:39 EST (#)
Rating: 2

Submitted by Sage at 2016-02-15 23:42:42 EST (#)
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Submitted by SilvrWolf at 2016-02-08 09:03:51 EST (#)
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Submitted by pen_name at 2016-02-08 04:48:48 EST (#)
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Submitted by Spam at 2016-02-08 02:03:04 EST (#)
Rating: 2

Submitted by RoadSong at 2016-02-05 16:16:50 EST (#)
Rating: 2

'The light is old and yellow, your hair dark and shiny, the dilapidated surroundings shadowed and still.'

Submitted by Darth_Famine at 2016-02-05 01:41:02 EST (#)
Rating: 2

That shot is impossible! Jack Nicholson himself couldn't make it!

-- Homer Simpson
Scenes from the Class Struggle in Springfield

Boy, when Marge first told me she was going to the Police Academy, I
thought it's be fun and exciting, like the movie `Spaceballs.' But
instead, it's been painful and disturbing, like the movie `Police

-- Homer Simpson
The Springfield Connection