I am posting this story that I entered for a competition a long time ago, it seems. I hope you like it and please, feel free to comment and tell me what you think. It is a wise author who listens. As ever I post a suitable song for you, music is the food of life, oh God okay stop with the puns already. lol
It had to the master Nick Cave and this song.
THE GOURMET`S CHOICE
word count 1504
I am a thief. I feed on your innermost thoughts like a vampire feeds on blood. I discard you afterwards like the man across the street has just done with his fast food carton. Empty of vitals and of no use any more. I do smile at this, I find the metaphor extremely amusing.
Ahhh so why do I do this? Why do I feed on your salty thoughts? The simplicity of my answer might bore you. I hunger. Just like you, and like you I must feed the hunger to survive.
In the past which you call “the olden days”, people knew my kind, they feared us and made magic’s against us. Dream stealers, hags were just a couple of names you gave us. You just have to put a name to everything don’t you? Even now in these “new days”, you still name everyone and everything, put it away in a box and sit back with a “look at me, arn`t I a clever monkey.” Really; I will be drawing too much attention to myself if I laugh any more.
You see dear, plump, clever little monkeys, your eagerness to believe that you are at the top, the peak of your civilisation has made you detach yourselves from your ancestors and their beliefs. You call them backward and superstitious. Well, I applaud you for making my existence easier and my supply of meals never ending.
The thoughts you hold inside your primitive minds can poison , heal or even drive my kind to madness but then oh it is so tempting to dip a finger into the intoxicating foulness of your minds, to extract a morsel just enough to serve as an appetiser. I am a gourmet and what I choose to eat are
the finest, the foulest, the most interesting of your kind. To follow, to live with you and to breathe your last breath with you.
There he is. My latest nouvelle cuisine dish. I shadow him, read what he reads in the newspaper he carries. Smell what he smells and bathe in his putrid dreams and fears.
He stops, a teaser of his expensive cologne drifts back to me. Delicious. He is going into our favourite shop, the florist where she works. His heart beats faster, he likes it, he wants to procreate with the woman who sells the flowers but ah, such pretend sadness, she is not there. The pleasant assistant tells my man that our lady went home early, with a migraine.
Of course we knew this. We know everything about our lady, we have followed her, discreetly of course, we would not want to be revealed before it was our time, and I do believe that today is going to be our time. I will soon have a feast to rival anything I’ve tasted before.
We are outside her dwelling place and I lean against the door frame as I wait for him to enter the
main building. I catch an aroma of desire and excitement and I do believe that was my stomach rumbling, how rude of me.
Now, inside man before she wakes, quickly. Oh he is so clever, that gold credit card is useful and not only for purchasing expensive cologne.
Our chosen lady is beautiful both in her outside skin but also, I can see now, in her soul. This room
is filled with flowers and paintings so vibrant that I hear them sing. My man does not hear the
paintings sing, he is listening to a song all of his own. He disrobes, not quickly either, our lady is not fast food. He stands in her room, her safe place and he is totally without clothing, but there is one thing left to take off and that is the silk cord that he always has tied round his waist. He is taking it off, oh how it glistens as he draws it through his fingers.
Soon very soon now, you will be my little deer caught in the glare of headlights, too dazzled to realise that you are about to be taken.
He steps towards where she is lying in her bed, a mask over her eyes, pale arms resting on the covers, her chest barely moving. I can sense she is dreaming, her mind an open trusting book of wonders. Hmm mm, my thoughts have changed direction.
My man stands at the foot of her bed and he watches her, silent but intrusive. His fingers touching the silk cord as if he were using a rosary to pray with. His mind is violent, flashing, pendulous swings of gore and desire. Oh he really is a vile creature. Surprised that one such as I can find my dinner so abhorrent? You should not be, if you know your own race.
At last he makes his move, his hand reaches out to touch the covers and draws them slowly back from her prone body. She is wearing a nightgown that clings to her female curves and entices him further. His hands shake as he brings the cord up and begins to lift one arm. Now is the moment, my moment. She wakes, still groggy from dreams but knowing in her soul that something dangerous is beside her. With a free hand she rips off the sleeping mask and as she sees him there is
a moments confusion then she screams. He puts a hand over her mouth and whispers to her. Very
quaint seeing as he is about to kill her. I however am too hungry to care and as he removes his hand from her mouth, my hand grabs his shoulder and I turn him around to face me.
There is one little detail that I quite forgot to tell you, when we feed we become visible and as his eyes bulged in their sockets the lady in the bed saw me too. My visage is pleasing, I am quite like a humanoid but my teeth, oh my teeth dears are sharp and deadly. I turned my head and grinned at her and she went silent. Too terrified to even whisper. My man was screaming far too much and so I placed my mouth over his and inhaled his breath, my fingers grew their claws and one dipped into his brain to taste the vile thoughts that had been his. As they came my eyes shut in ecstasy as I swallowed image after image, fantasy and reality. My body became solid with its nourishment from him whilst I suffocated him as I ate. His final image was of his Mother, would she weep if she knew her son was a murderer? Who can say and I do not care, I am feeding, surviving and saving the life of our heroine at the same time. He slipped from my grasp as he died and folded onto the floor like paper, a lifeless, drained hunk of meat, now only fit for the trash bin.
I lick my lips of the last vestiges of my man. The succulent thoughts swim through my body and feed the hunger that is always present. I turn to our heroine. She is sitting upright in her bed, hair dishevelled and beautiful. Her eyes are wide, the colour shining in them as her brain tries to process just what has happened here. I take a step towards her, her chest rises and she moans, the pitiful sound of a creature caught in a trap. I hold up a hand, my fingers normal now that I have fed and then I sit on the bottom of the bed. I look at her and it is enough to silence her moaning.
“You will telephone the constabulary and tell them that this man tried to kill you but a handsome stranger saved your life. You can describe me but they will never find me. I have saved your life
this day and you will never see me again unless, perhaps our paths might cross in the future. Do you understand what you must do?”
I wait. She nods her head, her arms now at peace and lying on the covers once more. I get up from the bed and walk towards the door, she stops me with a question.
“What, please what is your name.”
Ah humans, the urge to name things is there even in terror. I turn round once and smile at her.
“You my beautiful creature can think of me as Michael, like your Christian arch angel. Michael of the flaming sword that cast Lucifer down to earth. Hmm suits me I think.”
I leave her, pondering, wondering and her gentle brain is now filled with questions and horror. The stuff of nightmares has visited her and left behind his trail of filth. In a year or perhaps more, she will be ready and I can wait, oh yes, I can wait for her.