“If you were to run away, where would you go? There’s nowhere to run, to hide. You would be a sitting duck for the hungry hunter. His hunger wouldn’t be for the flesh of your meat, no, it would be solely for the hunt of the weak, for his prey. Sitting there in angst you’re just waiting to fall. To be hung as a trophy on his wall. Another successful drainage of life as he glorifies himself in the emptying of your blood pooling at his feet. Feel that? Do you feel the unease rising in you, the fear? Do you have the fight? The flight? Or are you going to freeze and fawn to him falling at his feet like so many before? He does so look forward to a challenge. He hopes you’ll run. A prey naive enough to think they can get away. To give chase so he can study you closer and predict your every move. But he will make do with the comedy of the weakest of them, the ones who fawn and give in to the slightest onset noise of his presence. They turn and he’s right there in front of them. BANG and they are no more, no more than fresh flash beginning to decay as he strings you up to drain you and dissect your undesirable intestines saving your heart for his next meal of Indulgence. Are you ready to die? Do you feel alive? breathing your last breath? Conscience of the air that moves through your lungs, your heart pumping the blood through your veins of which he will soon drain? He can smell you. Smell your fragrance, your pheromones. A single pearl of perspiration can call his name to your location. Oh look, your perfume is just pouring out of you even if you haven’t noticed or realized it, but it doesn’t have to end this way. Take this pistol, you don’t even need to be in his eyesight. As soon as he comes around the bend, pull the trigger. All you have to do is become the beast, the hunter. To capture a predator you can’t remain the prey, you have to become an equal in every way. Are you ready to live, to be alive? Here he comes. You only have seconds. Now look in the mirror and tell me who do you see? Is it still you or is it him?… BANG!”

“Did I do it? Is he dead?”

“Oh my sweet apprentice. You have played the game well.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ve killed a child. An innocent bystander. I have been your eyes, ears and mouth for years training you to become me. There was no one out to kill you. The original operator, your trainer died of old age a century ago. Now, string him up and taste that sweet familiar taste, run the child’s flavors between your every taste buds and don’t tell me you don’t remember. You’ve been tasting the juices of your prey for as long as the original operator was dead. Now you have become my full grown creation, ready and willing to do as I wish, as you wish as we are one of the same.”

“No!”

“Oh child, the News will spread of the young bystander’s disappearance. You don’t have much time to play with your food before you go out to find more in a new location. Child, I am your brain. It’s now and to a new location or prison feeding on the stupid flesh of inmates. While, that’s not to say the heavenly guarded zoo of jail would be a marvelous opportunity to. You will never walk alone. I’ll always be in you. Just call me your little sunshine.”

-Inspired by music.

-I choose to be weak than to fall into your footsteps of pain and bloodshed.

If you have read this thank you! I would love to have my stories read by many but understand that reality will never happen for me. this is a farewell to that desired dream.