Cravings of the Dead

Lin: Thank you :3, glad it got your attention, and that you like it so much. Please forgive the general dullness of this chapter, I promise the excitement will start back up soon.
Kat: Thanks for the encouragements :) It's these things that keep me going.


I’m awake again.
The Monster has retreated to a corner and is gnawing on something. I’d rather not know what.
I must have been out for quite a while. By the light that’s coming down the shaft I can see that it’s evening again.
I’m amazed to find that I’m still alive. I was fully expecting to be eaten. Or worse; turn into another monster.
Maybe I am turning; I just haven’t noticed it yet. Maybe the disease is just settling in slower then usual and I’ll slip off into a coma any second now.
I do feel cold, and weak.
And my neck is all swollen and tender from where that Thing bit me.
No blood.
That’s the weirdest thing of all. There is absolutely no blood, not even a scratch. The thing never broke my skin.

Maybe it’s old. Maybe the disease is finally taking its toll on the body and it’s dying. I cringe as I hear it crack something between its teeth.
I don’t think it’s dying…

I sneak a glance at it. It’s a curious creature.
Insanely tall and lanky, it must be near two meters. Its dark bluish mop seems almost permanently in its face. It probably wouldn’t have been if it didn’t slouch so much.
He’s wearing old half ripped jeans and bare feet. I can see his nails, bout on the hands and toes growing unruly.
An entire wad of hair on the left side of his scalp is just gone. As though it had been ripped out. I can make out the vague inked lines of a tattoo on left shoulder.

But most curious are the stitches and staples and chains.
Over his chest; a sturdy black lace-work pulls the skin taunt. On his head, above the large tender looking scar that crosses his eye; I can see staples glistering in the fading light.
And his biceps lay bare, as though the skin has methodically been cut and peeled away. Small sets of chains haphazardly attempt to pull the skin and conceal the exposed muscles and sinews.

I vaguely wonder what happened to it; he can’t have possibly gotten these things when he was alive.
Can he?

~*~

He could feel the human’s gaze on him.
He gazed at it through his hair, as he savored the soft fluids that flowed into his mouth as he slowly devouwered a fermentated eyeball.
He did not find the human’s staring unsettling, just weird.
The human sits so still it’s near motionless. He half wondered; if it died now, would it remain in the same position? He could try to find out.

But, why bother.
It’s not a threat; skinny barely armored, and even less muscles. Not enough to fight him at least.
Its defense consists of a thick layer of cloth, covering it from head to toe, literally. The only slivers of skin shown are its fingers and its face, which it constantly tries to hide with one of its many scarves.
Even the dirty blond hair on its head is mostly hidden from view by a ragged beanie. The only reason he knew the color was because he had spend so much time with his face buried in it.
There might be weapons on its body, hidden beneath those thick layers of cloth, but he doubted that. Weapons were getting scarce. Many of them lost and broken during the initial confrontations, the ones that were left untouched by humans after the first few months were usually also inaccessible for them. Thus they ones they had were saved for their front’s men.
Nobody made a shrimp a front’s man.

Just as well that this was a shrimp.
Cause he was planning to keep the little human.
Before its arrival, the only diversion from the dull daily drag of feeding and keeping rivals out of his den, were eyeballs. They were quite a delicacy. And now there was a new delicacy to entertain him. Better then eyeballs even, dare he say.
Even from here he could still smell its fear staining the air. It was fainter then before, but concentrating on it still sent a thrill through him.
He was almost tempted to approach it again and provoke it to produce the intoxicating pheromones again.
But for now, he was quite content observing the pale blue eyes flitting between him and the exit.
It was hilarious.