I awoke to the sounds of ripping tendons.
Raising my head, I looked over to where the noise originated. By the recliner was Don, stripping the flesh from Karen’s arms and devouring it piece by piece. The blood-soaked carpet glistened, reflecting the light from the nearby lamppost. I could see Mollie had already suffered death at his hands—her pajama top torn open and her chest cavity empty of its heart.
I couldn’t believe the scene. How could a father kill and eat his children? Surely his love would be strong enough to fight any demon that controlled him. Yet, here Don was, engaging in the unthinkable.
The bedside lamp illuminated the scene and Amanda’s scream pierced the night. An eerie grin appeared on Don’s face as he rose to his feet, having chosen his next victim. Around the room they scrambled, Amanda staying just clear of his grasp. Scream after scream, she fought to escape his attacks. Kicks, punches, and bites were dealt out, yet, strong fingers clasped hold of Amanda’s throat and ripped the skin apart. As the blood gushed out and life went with it, the apartment door burst open and shots rang out. Don died licking his fingers.
I ran from the apartment, not wanting to be there any longer. A spell had transformed my sensitive owner into a true member of the living dead, feasting only on flesh, no matter who the victim. Roaming the streets over the next week, I read about the story many times, thankful that I had not fallen victim, but saddened by those that had.
Ironically, I was taken in by an elderly lady who owned a small shop. She specialized in selling love potions and such to the locals that believed in those things. When I died, she cut off my feet and sold them as magic cat’s paws. Somewhere today, if the owners are lucky, they’re forgotten in somebody’s home collecting dust. I hope it’s no one’s home in Simmesport.
* * * * *
Gabriela yawned and headed off to her den behind the couch.
“Hey, one question before you nap. What about your other lives? Are you going to tell my readers about them, or keep them waiting?”
Peering out, she displayed a slight grin, “Since when does a girl tell everything about herself in one sitting? Let’s keep them guessing until Book Two comes out. Agreed?”
There was something about her words that made sense, if not for the readers, for my safety. Although she had calmed down since her arrival, I saw no reason to raise the ire of a sleeping demon. As usual, I did the only sane thing I could.
“Yes, agreed.”
The End
… for now
About the Author
Richard “Rich” Rumple currently resides in Lexington, Kentucky, after having grown up in Indiana, with New York, Chicago, Mobile, Baton Rouge, and Europe all mixed in between. “Gabriela…” is his third effort, following the highly successful “Horror Across The Alley” and “They Lurk In Summer.”
“People need an adrenaline rush from time to time, and creating that gives me one, too. It’s similar to when I did stand-up comedy and got the audience laughing--there is no better feeling than to be able to take their minds off their daily problems and allow them an escape.”
You can follow Rich at:
Author Website
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