This week, we explore the mind of a serial killer who gorges on the twitching flesh of his victims, leading the frightened townsfolk to believe a werewolf is on the loose. We follow him as he makes his final journey towards mutual doom.
JUST A MAN
By Toneye Eyenot
Someone’s walking over my grave. I can feel it in my bones. It’s causing me to wake and groan. It’s that time again. Fuck, I hate this so much. This terrible affliction that attacks me at my weakest moments and compels me to leave the solace of my bed, to prowl the darkened countryside in search of food. I don’t speak of the food of normal folk, but of the normal folk themselves. I’ve listened to the stories told in town by these normal folk of a day. Stories of the werebeast that terrorizes the stricken land. I know they speak of me and as I sit close by, listening to their fantastic tales of slaughter, I feel their pain…their fear and despair that sinks to the pit of my stomach, to fester and slowly spread through my being like a plague. Their stories fascinate and horrify me all at once. This is me. The monster. The abomination. I am no werebeast. I am just a man like every other man, tho at times such as now, that man who is me, is no longer me.
This piece of flash fiction can be found in the recently released J Ellington Ashton anthology, Doorway To Death. Enjoy your last meal
http://www.amazon.com/Doorway-Death-Anthology-Other-Side-ebook/dp/B015VLG1GY/ref=tmm_kin_title_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1447130731&sr=1-1
JUST A MAN
By Toneye Eyenot
Someone’s walking over my grave. I can feel it in my bones. It’s causing me to wake and groan. It’s that time again. Fuck, I hate this so much. This terrible affliction that attacks me at my weakest moments and compels me to leave the solace of my bed, to prowl the darkened countryside in search of food. I don’t speak of the food of normal folk, but of the normal folk themselves. I’ve listened to the stories told in town by these normal folk of a day. Stories of the werebeast that terrorizes the stricken land. I know they speak of me and as I sit close by, listening to their fantastic tales of slaughter, I feel their pain…their fear and despair that sinks to the pit of my stomach, to fester and slowly spread through my being like a plague. Their stories fascinate and horrify me all at once. This is me. The monster. The abomination. I am no werebeast. I am just a man like every other man, tho at times such as now, that man who is me, is no longer me.
This piece of flash fiction can be found in the recently released J Ellington Ashton anthology, Doorway To Death. Enjoy your last meal
http://www.amazon.com/Doorway-Death-Anthology-Other-Side-ebook/dp/B015VLG1GY/ref=tmm_kin_title_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1447130731&sr=1-1