"Chris and Cathy in the Mountains"
Brother & Sexy Sister
It gnaws mercilessly at the hollow pit of my stomach. Ravenous and madcap, it churns interior of me with devastating fervor. It is more than measly hunger, more than immodest desire. The requirement to feed on not only sustenance, but on the very essence of living, causes within my beleaguered soul an cataclysm so monumental as to be beyond human being comprehension.
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I can take notice of the heartbeat of the man in the next scope, it thumps not contrasting a distant wind-up warning clock. Spending another dark in a cheap hotel, I am surrounded by smells and sounds that sicken, yet entice me. Sweat and mass odor permeate the make public. Now and then a beer bud vase falls from above and crashes against the ground outside of my scope. Prostitutes climb the stairs to the boos catcalls of men alone in the instant and oblivious to those around them.
I can believe the raw and chaotic energy being pumped into the nighttime by the testosterone obsessed partiers. I deem their excitement, their physical desire and their reckless abandon. I smell fear from the shifty-eyed salesman cowering in the space next to me. I smell the stale cigarettes and whiskey of the man passed out in alcoholic dream in the extent on the other side of me. I attitude in my entry and try to breath in the hours of darkness air and permit my mind instance to settle and as I do so, a young girl walks by and smiles at me in a a bit brazen manner. "Wan some cumpny darlin'?" Her say-so is raspy and rattles, I insincerity help but marvel if she is conscious of the plague slowly devouring her throat and lungs. I don't converse in to her, but gaze at her in a road that cause her to prevent her eyes and drag your feet quickly away.
Though it is tempting, I won't nosh on any of these imbeciles. Loosing limit for one gifted with my powers is not a good thing. It isn't lovely for me and it definitely isn't good for the humans that I shelter for myself amongst. Their is an peculiar stewardship sort of dependability between an immortal such as I and the humans he dwells among. It sounds cruel and undue, but in many habits they are a crop to be tended and cared for. To put it in person terms, a huntsman can't go out into the woods and murder every deer in the woodland, he must implementation control and develop certain ones, departure the breeding residents to grow and burgeon. A prosperous herd is well importance the extra care and restraint that goes in being a good steward. It also insures your own survival and maximizes the payback you reap.
Stewardship. It is what keeps me from climbing those stairs and causing chaos and destruction, much as the perception appeals to me. I must be law-abiding though, it is more than immediately self control and restriction. The sickness that tends to pen rampant in the sort of people I am communication of turns me stomach. Just as a human would shy away from rancid meat or soured milk, I avoid feeding on the lees of human institute as much as probable. Were I to nourish more on the junior life forms and elapsed souls, I might provide a better examination to "the crop". I do, in fully a few situations, be inclined my herd and collect undesirables, but that is another carry some weight. Even their blood is tainted, I don't taste it, but spit it back upon the found after draining it from them.
For the most part, I am much like any other seeker. I seek the textbook prey. I ask for the perfect backdrop. I am after not only joy, but am also wary of my direct and long term welfare. When I nourish, I must state I prefer to dine on the discerning and delicate bunch of a female. Men will do and I postulate I take that course most of the time, but for a really "tasty" treat, I search the streets in pursuit of a woman. Drinking the blood from some dockworker or bus driver will keep me bustling and most times I am pleased with them, but there are era...
Sometimes it is the happiness of toying with my meal that pleases me more then the provisions itself. Sometimes it is the infrequency of it.
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