Hunting
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Ice night wind penetrated my jacket like tracer through
pilots. Blood congealed leaked congealed leaked from my left calf as I
made my way to the back of an empty car park. Pound pound pound heart
beat in my ears struck strange rhythmic counterpoint with my halting
footsteps. Stopping panting listening listening hard through the drum
beats and whistling wind for my quarry. They thought they were the
hunters, but I had to protect them from my lust. Ignorant of my power
they arrogantly forged preywards.
A slow, mountainous anger welled just beyond the limit of my control.
Feeling it’s way upward like magma forcing through crust, I
became hot under the collar and itchy between webbed fingers. Uttering
something between a howl and a quack, my jeans tore outward as I
fantisised their torsos ripped from legs falling like buildings
collapsing from demolitionists’ blasts.