Another Slut

By Marcus Pan

Chain Border

Even before it flows I can almost smell the blood. Metallic and pungent, warm and full of vitality. Sometimes, the apprehension alone is enough to satisfy my hunger. The shadows, my home, increase as the sunset spreads itself thinner above the trees, trading in its red and orange speckled Technicolor cloak for the drabber purples and blues and grays and blacks. The air has a striking feel of ozone; an impending storm. That's good, the clash of thunder and the flash of lightning can serve me to mask the screams.

The benches are being emptied slowly. Couples head back to their respective accommodations and dorms, leaving behind bird feeders and boorish talkers and readers hoping to breeze through one last chapter before the sunset trades in the purples for the blacks. Black is my favorite color. Or wouldn't you have guessed that?

The breeze is picking up now, spreading loose leaves and papers swiftly across the matted grass where the people and pets crushed the green to browns and tans. The trees behind the benches serve me well too, masking my presence.

I never did go out for the media attention. I never quite understood why Sam or Zodiac or my other brothers would taunt the authorities, write to the media and string them along like broken yo-yos as they went about their business. I like being quick, flawless, undetectable. I pick and choose when. I am not dictated by months or seasons or talking dogs. I am dictated by me. There are no voices in my head. There are no cults leading me on. There is just me. Perception is up to the beholder, and as my own perceiver I've decided that I like it. Blood is such a fun, viscous fluid, full of life. Sure, I've tried draining my steaks. I've tried getting cups full from the butcher on the corner under the guise of marinating one thing or another. But it's cold, lifeless. It doesn't have the viscosity of blood released from the veins. Nor is it nearly as erotic when it's not released by you - and not human.

Am I a monster? I suppose I could be. Again, perceptions are up to the beholder. I don't worry much about it. Everybody has their closet skeletons or hidden secrets. Mine just happen to be real skeletons rather than the figurative kind. And that's ok. Whatever floats your boat, as they say.

Oh there she is. I was looking for her. I knew she'd be here, passing through the park on the way home to her dorm at this time, leaving her boyfriends' dorm on the other side. She always does, at this time. I can still smell the odor of completed acts of sex wafting off of her. She smells like a brothel. She's such a slut. They all are. It took me so long to learn that, but I know it now. They all are.

A flash of memory...she was supposed to be mine. I don't know why she went to him. I really didn't care for an explanation when I got home a day early from my trip to Houston. The explanation didn't matter. Only the act mattered. That was the first time I noticed how lovely the blood smelled, how it looked, how it felt as I rubbed it across my lips to taste. The metallic stench of it, the warm feel as it rolled down my fingers and pooled in my palm. The slut will never do that again. Not unless we figure out reanimation anyway...

I also found out that his blood wasn't nearly as fulfilling. Slut blood, breakfast of champions.

Her favorite bench looms before her, this new one, this new slut. She always stops here. I figure she wants to sit and gloat over being laid. Everyone likes to be laid, at least some of the time. I did once. But the feel of flesh on flesh is nothing compared to the feel of blood on same. The differences are astronomical.

Good thing I wore my sneakers today instead of my boots. My boots are hard, heavy. You could hear the leather creak and twigs snap in my step. Not this time. I can feel the rubber soles of my sneakers fold themselves over the twigs and the ground, pressing into it slowly without a sound. It doesn't take me long to get to the bench. Not long at all. Matter of fact, it took less time than my plans called for, which is nice because I have a few extra seconds to feel the blood flow. I enjoy every moment.

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