The Taste I Love

A sweet sweet blood lust.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

       The knife slides down to the tip of my tongue. I enjoy my prize gratefully. The hunt is such a thrill. An always unpredictable chase, but still, never far out of my reach. I always remember it so clearly.

 

       He walked silently through the park as I kept my distance behind him. Watching. Observing. Studying. Studying his movements, his foot patterns, left right left right, the way he looks to his left every twenty-three steps. The way he swings is arms opposite his step, right arm-left foot, left arm- right foot. His scent luring me in, Axe cologne, with a mixture of After-shave and whisky. Just a small amount of whisky on his breath. Hardly enough to make him buzzed. He turns around, unaware of my presence. He moves on, making his way through the trails. I purposely step on sticks behind him, causing him to look back at me. I flash a smile, he smiles uneasily and picks up pace, noticing I’ve been following him for awhile. “Who else walks the park at 3 am?” He thinks allowed. I start slowly jogging after him, he continues picking up pace. Running, feeling frightful, wanting to get away. He turns to see if I’m still there. Yes. I am. I catch up to him and wrap my arms around his neck.

      “What are you doing to me?” He asks in a whirl of confusion. I laugh aloud. I can feel him shiver in fear.

     “Are you scared?” I ask with a smirk. I kiss his forehead. He is sweet. So sweet.

    “Why me? Who are you? What did I do?” He begs and tries escaping my arms. I squeeze him tighter, until he stops struggling. Panting, he is panting.

    “You don’t know me; you were just in the park.” I laughed a wicked laugh as I slit his throat.

  I enjoy his sweet, metallic blood taste. A taste I never get tired of.

Author's Note

Another quicky.