Hunger
Posted on: March 14, 2008Copyright © 2008 Sticky Pen
One thousand and I didn't look a day over twenty-five. No wrinkles, no gray hairs. Just a few scars from a life long-passed. They were faded reminders of battles fought and won. Well, most of them had been won. The last? It was what put me here, on the road to eternal life. And eternal loneliness. In a thousand years, I've had countless lovers: peasants, nobles, stableboys, whores, even two kings. But none of them filled the void within me. Something was always missing, something vital that I couldn't quite put my finger on. By the year 2005, I had all but given up. Sitting in a dark windowseat, of an even darker house, I was contemplating suicide. My home was quiet enough for such introspection. There's a distinct advantage to people believing your home is haunted; an even bigger advantage when the city officials are too terrified to tear it down. Needing to feed only once a month left me plenty of time to think. And to play. My amusement of choice came in the form of fucking with the kids, the ones who dared each other to come close enough to look into the front bay window of the rotting, haunted Magnolia House. A fleeting glimpse of...something...would send them off. I could hear their screams two blocks away, and many times, I laughed until I hurt. The first time I realized I wasn't alone, I didn't know what to think. I felt the pull--an irresistible need to find out ...
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