by M. V. Stott
Something moved: a shape, a dark patch of the world, something my eyes wanted to ignore.
It leapt from the shadows and barged into me. I went down, reaching out, trying to grab hold of something; some clothing, a limb, anything. My fingers brushed against something soft and cold and—
—Hunger, Hunger, Hunger—
So many screams, so much blood, and Christ, the need, the need, it never stops, never decreases, it’s just there-there-there demanding more and they scream as I approach and I like that, I exist for that moment, and then the feast! The feast! I can gorge on their fear and their real—
—It was gone as quick as it started, the terrible hunger, the taste in my mouth, the overpowering need to gorge on… on awful things. I pulled away, teeth bared, fingers digging painfully into my chest. Wincing, I pulled my hands away and sagged, panting, glad that whatever had just happened was over.
But of course it wasn’t over. There was more horror to come.
I looked to where the… the thing, the dark shape, emerged from… and saw two feet sticking out. Another woman. Another corpse. What the hell was happening? All I’d been doing was a little light stalking and I’d stepped into a nightmare.
‘Help… help…’
She was alive! Holy, buggering, shit, she was still alive!
I scrabbled over on my hands and knees to find her curled up, bloodied, but still breathing.
‘Ha ha! Fuck you, you murdering twat!’
I must have surprised the attacker; spooked them before they finished the job!
‘Please… please…’
‘Hey, hi, it’s okay, don’t worry, it’s okay.’ I burbled these and other words at the woman, relief and joy coursing through my veins as my hands fluttered over her, trying to make sure she wasn’t suffering from anything immediately life threatening, like a cleaver sticking out of her neck. She flinched away at first, or at least tried to.
‘I’m still in me. I’m still in me.’
‘What? What d’you mean?’
‘Don’t take it, please, please, it’s mine, it’s…’
‘It’s okay, don’t panic, you’re going to be okay. What’s your name?’
But that’s all she managed to squeeze out until she shuddered once and passed out. I yanked out my phone and dialled for an ambulance, hoping to God, to Buddha—to whatever those alien ghost things Tom Cruise believed in were—that she’d hang on until they arrived.
End of Extract.
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Table of Contents
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
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