Desperate for Change

The Purest Soul

The park was deserted at this time of night except for the homeless that camped near the bridge.  One good thing about the transient population here, they knew how to mind their own business and keep quiet, plus no one noticed if one or two vanished from time to time.   

Over the centuries it had become more difficult to remain hidden.  Years past, superstition and fear had been enough to keep away the masses, however, these young people believed in no gods and feared no demons.  They eagerly charged forth into the haunted places of their parents and grandparents, laughing at the shadows and whispers that lingered.

This side of the park was mostly dark and forgotten, a sharp contrast to the new development over by the well lit and maintained walking paths.  All was quiet here, except for the crinkle of crumpled newspapers used as makeshift blankets and the skittering of rodents across a nearby storm drain.  Nameless masses existed within the neglect and misfortune of this quiet, hidden place.  This created the perfect opportunity for a hungry monster searching for a meal.  

The sound of muffled coughing drew his attention first, followed quickly by the stench of unwashed sweat and liquor.  From his perch in the oak tree, he watched as the man stumbled off the curb and landed with a hard thud, a nearly empty bottle of beer rolling out of his hand.  

"Damn it!"  Cursed the man as he reached to retrieve the bottle.  "Spilled my beer!"  He slurred.

Before the man could grab the bottle it was snatched up by what seemed like a walking shadow.

Pausing to clear his blurry vision, the man blinked repeatedly trying to make sense of what he was seeing.  His beer bottle was being held by a cloaked figure, that appeared to be hovering 2 feet off the ground. 

The stunned man started to chuckle at his absurdity. 

"I gotta quit drinkin'!  My eyes don't work right no more."

Just as the man turned to go in search of a soft, dry spot to sleep a voice, clear as a bell, rang out from where the beer bottle hung.

"I can assure you, that while your hygiene may no longer be in order, your eyesight remains unfazed."

Turning back, so quickly that he lost his balance, the man gasped as a face materialized out from beneath the hood of the cloak.

Ghastly white skin and teeth that resembled an animal more than a man were now visible, however, it was the eyes that held the man in thrall, unable to move or even look away.  Red eyes that glowed like embers. 

The eyes were all the man could see as they came closer and closer.  Even in his drunken stupor, he knew this was real. 

The scent of fear and urine filled the air.  The man never had a chance to pray or beg or even scream as his throat was ripped away.  Savoring the rich flavor added by  fear, the figure took long, deep gulps of the blood that flowed from the dying man's veins.

For so many years the hunt had been his only source of joy.  Seeing the reality of death looming in the eyes of his prey and knowing that it was unavoidable had been his only amusement over these long centuries. Until now! Now he had new prey and a new more exciting game. 

The fool and his lover were somehow still alive.   

A game he began so many centuries ago was still in play and his stone heart beat a little faster at the thought of renewing that hunt.

A bloody smile flashed as he released the old mans body and allowed it to drop haphazardly to the ground.  

Caution must be employed in this new hunt.  His prey was not slow and ignorant like these walking blood-bags.  No, this prey was faster and smarter and would hear (or smell) him coming from far away.  He needed to watch and learn from afar, out of sight for as long as he could before reintroducing himself to the fool and his lover.