Page 14 of Nightshades
I want her pain.
I want her pleas for survival.
I want to smell her burning flesh.
“No! Please, I’ll do anything!” she screams, wiggling in the restraints she has created for herself.
The scent of her blood has my nostrils flaring. The bark from the tree is scratching the delicate surface of her skin.
“La-lala-la-laa-laaa,”my hungry nightmare sings.
Greta vomits. In her mind, gravity forces her puke into the fire, but in real time, it soaks her clothes and chin. She chokes and gags, unable to swallow or spit since she is paralyzed.
“Just think. If only you were a responsible person, I wouldn’t be happening to you. I bet you’re thinking that right now, aren’t you? I bet you’re wondering if you could turn back time, if you could make a different choice, then none of this would be happening.” My maniacal, villainous laugh reverberates through the woods and travels through her mind so she can hear me. “You can’t turn back time. You have to answer for your crimes, Greta.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I won’t do it again. I’ll be done forever. I won’t hunt anymore. Please, let me go!” The fire climbs, the whimsical tips of the flames flicker and dance, closing the empty space between the bright orange blaze and her flesh.
From the heat alone, her body is already turning a beautiful shade of pink. I wonder how long before it burns and bubbles her skin off her bones.
Rage swells inside me. “Hunting? Have you learned nothing?” I roar, funneling my fury into the nightmare.
The fire explodes. The better version of me soaks in the smoke, ash, and embers; the nightmare swirling around in circles within the wild, unkept blaze.
I grow stronger as her fear builds.
The scorching heat is finally too much for her skin, and she screams so loud, it echoes into the empty night of her brain.
I love my abilities. I love that her pain is internalized. Her screams in her mind are mere whimpers in her throat as we stand in the middle of the woods.
No one will ever be able to hear the torment I’ve inflicted. Her death will always be questionable—a case that will never be solved.
Death is poetry, a sweet end to a complicated life. If anything, I’m doing her a favor.
“You’re a poacher, Greta. You don’t hunt. Killing for sport, killing to steal, killing in dozens is not hunting. You’re controlled by a nightmare, and yet you haven’t learned your lesson. What would it take, Greta? What would it take for you to see the errors of your ways?”
She sobs so hard, her body convulses. “I’m sorry.” She hangs her head, her long blonde hair falling down her shoulders. “I needed the money. I was desperate.”
“And what are you now, Greta? You’re just as desperate to live.”
My victim nods in agreement; her grunts of discomfort are making me hard. Glancing down, the sharp teeth open, and my cock blooms to its full two and a half foot length—an adaptation from the rhino DNA.
Stroking myself with both hands, I watch in pure fascination as the flames become stronger, growing higher, until there’s no more hope left for Greta.
My shadow-self morphs with the fire, turning the wild blaze a searing, unholy black.
“Mmmm,” I moan just as another scream clings to her throat.
The possessed fire finally reaches her, cooking her like she fears. She fights the edge of death, refusing to accept her fate.
Her flesh begins to roast, the scent of meat causing my mouth to water, reminding me how hungry I am—but not for Greta. All I want is the scent I’ve been following for two days.
Once I get my fix, I’ll be able to move on to another state. There are plenty of bad people in the world who need to die, and I’m happy to be the executioner since no one else can.
The world turns a blind eye to bad deeds, and I believe I was created to rid the world of them.
One by one, I’ll absorb their fears, their deaths, and become the lore everyone has feared since they were children. I’ll be the monster under their bed, the creature hiding in the closet, the noise they hear in their house at night.
I’ll become the story. I’ll change fiction into reality.