I can taste your fear.
I feel it pouring off you in waves, and I hunger for it. It’s what I came here for, why I do what I do. For your fear. Thick, black and salty, I know I must have it.
I will have it.
I drink it in, wave after wave, and it’s delicious. Your terror gives me life, gives me reason, and I take all you have, leaving you empty, a shell, drained of that which once seemed so important to you.
And so nourished I depart, and you go forward into the world, reborn.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Labels: 100 words, Drabble, Fear, Short story
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