Wednesday, March 22, 2006

I drove by the monster two days ago, and I sensed a longing emanating from the beast. I felt its pain, its hunger, its loneliness and the desire to feed. I pulled the Mini to the roadside, a safe distance away, got out and walked slowly toward the thing. The wind was brisk and cold; the clouds, grayish to black, were scudding overhead; the atmosphere was oppressive, and no other human beings were around. The park seemed empty but for me. I moved close but not too close. There was a low, mournful sound, grinding and grim as the wind brushed against the formation's face. I know it sounds insane, but I heard it: "Feed me; Feed me; Feed me."
I dropped to my knees; I pushed back, then spun and ran, crashing through Catclaw, Sage, stumbling over rocks until I reached my car.
We must accept what we must accept: tender young gym climbers, sporty types and foolish newbies are again on the menu.

written by Woody Stark FA of Double cross


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