נכתב בשנת 2000 (כיתה ט') ורק עכשיו החלטתי להעלות את זה. למי
שקורא יצירות אחרות שלי, זה הבסיסי לאובססיה לבשר, בעצם. נכתב
ממש יחד עם Hunger

It was a dark night. The full moon was blocked out by a
cover of clouds that kept the warmth of the day like a
blanket over the world. The thick overcast possessed a
reddish shade that lingered beyond that of dusk, perhaps by
a bloody shade of the moon.
It was a place where few ever venture, but where everyone
comes in the end. A breeze blew by and around the stones in
the yard, a silent whisper of those who will never leave - a
warning to those about to enter.
A chill went through her body as she looked upon the
surrounding graves, a sea of marble monuments, a community
of the dead. Six feet under, she thought, are rows and rows
of dead, lying in the earth, never to awaken from their
sleep. So she hoped at least. With every step she wondered
if she were stepping upon someone's parts, and somewhere in
the back of her mind was a disturbing feeling of fear of
some skeletal hand rising to take her below. Afraid, she
held close to her companion, he who brought her there before
her time. She was afraid and she found comfort in his
presence. She was a fool.
She considered his idea of a romantic night. Hardly a date
under the stars, which were absent in this dark night.
Beyond the feeling of fear, she wondered what her companion
was thinking, what was planned for her tonight. This was
also first on his mind. The difference was that he knew
exactly what was to be.
An urge of anticipation urged in his mind as he examined
her body from head to toe. The need inside him grew, and
soon there would be no containing it. He knew this as he had
felt it many times in the past, from all the poor hearts he
had stolen. Experienced and capable, he would wait for the
right moment, examining her body and body language at the
same time. As his anticipation grew, so did the blood in his
veins run hot. As his pulse raced, he could feel the fear in
her increase the pulse of her heart in pace with his. But he
was patient and clever, as fit for his reputation and his
real condition. Shivering from cold and fear alike, she
moved close to him in a cautious movement only hinting her
intentions. He put his hand around her and held her in his
embrace like python held a mouse. A soft kiss is but another
examination of his other senses:
The warmth of her body, the rhythm of her breath, and the
taste of her skin. And the smell... oh the smell! It was the
smell that drew him to these endeavors. Always the smell,
not the array of perfumes and other masks of smell that
disguise the true smell of the human... of the female... of
the flesh...
So he lay her down upon the cool, white marble, a stage for
his work and his worship. He was prepared, and she was
ready. The blood in his veins thirsted for more, and was
then quenched. With the growing aggression, lust changed to
fear, laughter to screams of terror. As man became beast,
passion turned to hunger, and kisses to wounds. There, upon
the white marble he consumed her, the pace of her pulse a
fountain to his thirst, and her still warm heart, removed
from the now torn body, a life sustaining nourishment for a
never ceasing Hunger. A banquet upon a table of stone, a
feeding among dead, an offering to the deity of hunger and
lust, upon an altar now blood-red.

They all get there in the end, and she will never leave.
These bloody remains are a warning to the living, a mortal
lesson that is imperative that we learn. Her torn body upon
the bloody altar is a reminder for us, that there is no real
difference between the lust of beast and hunger of man, and
that the two are one and the same.