Feed

         Hunger. The dull ache in your throat, the throbbing growl deep within the pit of your stomach that drives you insane. You're desperate for food, to sate your thirst. But with what? For you hunger not for roots or rocks, not even the lowest of animals will do. A human perhaps? Oh, you find your tongue grow moist at the thought. Every particle of you tingles in anticipation. A human, yes... The perfect meal. You are New, but you are no vampire, as one might think. There are no words or phrases to describe what you are. You think, consider to ponder, but first a meal.

         You find that it isn't the same as in the movies. You watch from the shadows, never drawing attention and never for too long, but you do watch. You study. You wait. Eventually, with patience (but not without suffering, as the pain grows every day), they wander off alone, perhaps on vacation. No one is around to see. This is when you strike. You pounce, slicing their neck open with your unfortunately human-esque teeth. They open their eyes in shock at first, but instantly, their pain is replaced by tremendous sexual pleasure. Every fiber of their being reacts to your drink, though you feel nothing but and increasing pain, far worse than the hunger. You ignore it, though, and continue to drink, ungrily lapping at the red beads of golden ecstacy. You drain them, and the pain becomes almost unbearable, as if you're burni-

         And then it ceases. Instead, you feel a brief, yet extreme flash of ecstasy, and you blink with your new eyes. The wound on your neck heals, leaving a red scar by which you are recognized. You push the corpse away and fix your clothing, perhaps pausing fleetingly to glance at the shell about to burst with blood. No one will ever know the cause of death, perhaps they'll create a name for the overfill of veins, as if it was a disease. Disease... Just the thought of it frightens you. Pain, wounds, they are nothing, but an illness... A simple cold, were you to intake would kill you. You turn away then, setting off in your new body to find another shell... Should you call it a host? Perhaps not. It doesn’t move or live, after all. It's merely a transport, a way of moving around. It's more like your shell, really, a protective covering with which you hide from the light. Everything here, you know, burns you.

         The hunger is already creeping into your bloodless veins, and you snarl. It may be up to a year before you feed again, but for now, you must find another to watch. You must find the perfect specimen. It is a never ending cycle, and eventually you begin to envy other creatures. Ones who may develop relationships, feel intricate emotions and find jobs or homes. You want a single body to remain in during your life or, if you were a vampire, your non-life. You long for an identity, a partner, a name. You have no feelings other than the fleeting, simple emotions you may sometimes feel. You simply search, find, watch, feed, and then start over.

         Often, you may find a pregnant female and use it to split yourself, feeding on a newborn, then a human of your own. You act quickly, before the child's blood reaches the fetus. As you move the corpse from you, a bloodied infant explodes from the womb, crawling off to feed. You feel no joy or content of giving birth, for the child is not yours. You may feel scared, perhaps disgusted. You killed a mother-to-be and two children, replacing one with a monstrous version of yourself. But then the feeling is gone and you find yourself hungry again.

         You search for a companion, but the only creature that does not appeal to you is one like yourself. Nay, that appeals to your need for battle. As soon as you spot them, you attack. Soon, they are dead, their bodies disintegrating into ash. You feel no mercy, however, and continue on.

         You are not immortal, really. You may take over a year to change shells, in which case you suddenly drop to the ground as an earsplitting crack sounds inside your head. You scream, or rather, you think you do. But no one seems to hear or notice you. Your bones rip apart cell by cell, your veins set afire.

         The other way you die is by taking in a sickness. No matter what strength or however minor it may be, you taste it as soon as you begin drinking. Your veins freeze, your bones and skin literally rotting away. The darkness pulls you in and, for the first time, you cry.

         Death brings you all the things you envy. You may name yourself, though you will never be able to call yourself that. You feel heartbreak and love, happiness and sadness. You wish for a friend, someone to hold your hand as you fade away, the last glimpse of the world becoming your happiest and saddest moment.

         And just as simply as you came, now you are gone.