-------------Part VII----------------
Yesterday. Love was such an easy game to play...The man staggered as he tripped over something low to the ground. Touching it, he thought it was a stone of some type. He felt the grooves in the rock’s flat face. They were letters and numbers. A tombstone? he thought. He could not see anything but black. A thick, impermeable black. Something was tied around his face, blocking his vision. He reached up, tearing the cloth free and opened his eyes.
And still there was only black. Frantic fingers found only empty sockets. He began to run and tripped again.
Yes, that’s what it is. A tombstone. I’m in a cemetery. I climbed out of a casket and through all the dirt. The man gave me a special task. He saved me. I hunger. What’s happened to me? Why can I not see? He continued on his way, tripping frequently. Although he was blind, his sense of smell was amazing. He could smell the flowers that spotted many markers and the butterflies that nestled in them. He could smell smoke in the air, probably from an industrial section of the city. And, ever so faintly, he could smell food wafting through the air.
Following his nose, he stumbled out of the cemetery proper. It was dark, and no one noticed him. His mind wandered as he made his way to the gates. I died. I saw the Dark Man and the dark things everywhere. I remember now. I tore my eyes out to stop seeing them. I died! And now I live. The man promised me food, plenty of food, and that I should never be hungry again, once I make it out of here. He called me to shed my former identity and gave me my new name: Marle. A name of power, he said. A name of importance.
He walked along the perimeter of the fence, searching for an exit. As he did, he picked up a strong scent of flesh. He took off running in the direction of the odor, tripping and falling like a drunk. In a few seconds, he knew he was close. It was almost as if the black he saw was tainted in red.
Someone was laughing. Marle ran at the noise, colliding with his prey. His victim was a young man who happened to be thrill seeking inside the cemetery after hours. Marle’s hands tore at the man, his fingernails cutting bloody marks into his soft flesh. He pulled the arm to his mouth and bit into the wrist.
Around him, the boy’s friends came to help out their assaulted mate. Apparently they’re some sort of gang or something, Marle thought. His other senses began to bloom as the flesh and blood made its way into his system. He heard a swooshing in the air, but did not connect it with the baseball bat that hit him in the head until it was too late. The first victim was screaming in agony as Marle dropped him from his dazed hands. The bat slammed into his right knee cap, and Marle fell to the ground.
“Let’s get outta here,” one boy yelled. Marle came back up, slowly, and the scent of flesh overtook him. He lost himself in his mind. Deep instincts took over, and Marle pounced on the fallen, injured boy. Marle bit deep into the tender flesh on the neck, blood spewing out. Such sweet food! his mind rejoiced. The blood seemed to fuel him, and he tore free more flesh.
And still there was only black. Frantic fingers found only empty sockets. He began to run and tripped again.
Yes, that’s what it is. A tombstone. I’m in a cemetery. I climbed out of a casket and through all the dirt. The man gave me a special task. He saved me. I hunger. What’s happened to me? Why can I not see? He continued on his way, tripping frequently. Although he was blind, his sense of smell was amazing. He could smell the flowers that spotted many markers and the butterflies that nestled in them. He could smell smoke in the air, probably from an industrial section of the city. And, ever so faintly, he could smell food wafting through the air.
Following his nose, he stumbled out of the cemetery proper. It was dark, and no one noticed him. His mind wandered as he made his way to the gates. I died. I saw the Dark Man and the dark things everywhere. I remember now. I tore my eyes out to stop seeing them. I died! And now I live. The man promised me food, plenty of food, and that I should never be hungry again, once I make it out of here. He called me to shed my former identity and gave me my new name: Marle. A name of power, he said. A name of importance.
He walked along the perimeter of the fence, searching for an exit. As he did, he picked up a strong scent of flesh. He took off running in the direction of the odor, tripping and falling like a drunk. In a few seconds, he knew he was close. It was almost as if the black he saw was tainted in red.
Someone was laughing. Marle ran at the noise, colliding with his prey. His victim was a young man who happened to be thrill seeking inside the cemetery after hours. Marle’s hands tore at the man, his fingernails cutting bloody marks into his soft flesh. He pulled the arm to his mouth and bit into the wrist.
Around him, the boy’s friends came to help out their assaulted mate. Apparently they’re some sort of gang or something, Marle thought. His other senses began to bloom as the flesh and blood made its way into his system. He heard a swooshing in the air, but did not connect it with the baseball bat that hit him in the head until it was too late. The first victim was screaming in agony as Marle dropped him from his dazed hands. The bat slammed into his right knee cap, and Marle fell to the ground.
“Let’s get outta here,” one boy yelled. Marle came back up, slowly, and the scent of flesh overtook him. He lost himself in his mind. Deep instincts took over, and Marle pounced on the fallen, injured boy. Marle bit deep into the tender flesh on the neck, blood spewing out. Such sweet food! his mind rejoiced. The blood seemed to fuel him, and he tore free more flesh.
-----+-----
Most of the gang had fled after seeing the monster bite into Robbie. Jason, however, was his best friend, and he would not let that thing get away with it. He pulled his dad’s 9mm out of his backpack and approached the thing. It was crouched over Robbie, ravenously eating his friend. He noticed Robbie’s head lying slightly away from the body. In less that two minutes, the thing had tore the boy to pieces, gorging itself on his flesh.
Jason stepped nearer, aiming the gun at its back. The thing was too preoccupied to hear him approach.
“This is for Robbie,” he whispered, emptying the magazine into the creature. The thing slumped over Robbie, letting out a startling scream as it did. Jason stood still, watching for any signs of movement. He dialed the police on his cell. “My friend has just been attacked and killed. I killed the thing that did it to him. We’re near the mausoleums of Willow Hill Cemetery.” He hung up.
The creature had not moved, but Jason wasn’t taking any chances. He put his last bullet in the gun and walked over to the bodies.
-----+-----
Aahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Marle’s mind was screaming. He had been feasting, enjoying the delicious flesh, when he felt the bullets plow into him. Even though he was dead, the pain still persisted, and it was intense enough to render him momentarily unconscious. His mind was swimming and spinning from the pain, and his whetted stomach was fighting to wake him up and finish his meal.
In the end, however, it was anger that woke him. The shooter was close; Marle could smell his blood. He could also hear the quick beating of his heart. In a flash, he was off the dead body and leaping through the air. He plowed into his attacker, and the two wrestled for a moment. Marle found a reservoir of strength deep inside, and he forced the boy to the ground.
Another gunshot rang out, putting another bullet in Marle, this time his side. The blind man’s mind snapped, and his humanity left him. He was no longer Marle, he was a beast. Furious at being shot, and furious that his meal was interrupted, Marle’s instincts controlled him. He bit into the boy’s face, tearing free his nose. Blood erupted, and Marle stuck his tongue out to taste. He bashed the boy down into the ground, ripping flesh free.
He finished feasting on his second victim, ignoring his pleas for help. After both bodies were consumed, Marle belched, like a small dog that’s overstuffed itself. He stood cautiously, aware of the nausea poring through his body and the pain in his knee. His mind was still in the wild. In the distance he heard a shrilling siren, and part of his brain connected it with danger.
I have to accomplish what he sent me to do, he thought reasonably. But I could stay and have more to eat… He decided to flee, leaving his prey out in the open for someone else to find. The bones are too tough, anyway.
Like an animal, he ran, this time not tripping over stones as he had before. The food gives me power. I am not as clumsy. My body is stronger, too. I need to finish this business, then find more to eat.
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