“Ah. Smell that Nancy?” I grin. I inhale the waft of smoke. The crackling is such a pleasant sound. True, the warmth is a blessing this evening. My coat, alas, provides nothing. Of course, clothing would be beneficial. It’s not terribly chilly as of now and I can’t see any mist from my breathe but you never know. If there is one thing I’ve learned in this life, be prepared. Shit can, and will change on a dime.
“Isn’t that right, Nancy?”
Nancy doesn’t speak.
“Well, I suppose your time is up anyway. I mean, it’s not like you could last forever. Indefinitely.”
I reach up and pull Nancy off my whole face. She doesn’t wish to comply though. I mean I shouldn’t expect much ease. How many hours has it been? Or was it days? I ask myself. I shrug. With tugging and tearing off pieces, Nancy eventually lets go and she is promptly thrown in the flames.
The fire sure likes its meal, yes sir ye. The skin is lapped up. Doesn’t take long at all for her to turn into ash. Of course, I could do without the pungency of burning flesh. For someone who lives in the flames, one would assume I would be accustomed to decay. I wrinkle my nose and let my tongue slip out in disgust. Some drool slips from the corner of my mouth. I do nothing to stop it.
I wonder who is the next lucky participant? Who shall spoon with Nancy? Hmm. I scratch my chin, thinking, studying the fire thoughtfully. Squinting, I try to find any remains of her. Oddly, and I find this somewhat peculiar, even for the likes of my talent, I cannot spot one piece of dust or ash of poor, delicate, little Nancy girl. Typically in the darkness, the blackness not only does it caress me and provides protection- concealment, my sight, well, I will just say I can spot a bird shitting in a tree some yards away, possibly fifty or so. But I cannot see one spec in the pit tonight? Grunting, I pull my tongue in and swallow.
Well, no matter, I surmise with a sigh. Plenty. Plenty to pick. Plenty to pry a part. I look down. Chunks of balls of hair; there are a few red, some blond but mostly black pieces because I quite enjoy the color black, and their scalps are folded in under the edges of the flesh. I used whatever I could find really before I staked my claim, so to speak. In the trash can, the dumpsters, I found needles, lots and lots of needles. It was like a smorgasbord of needles everywhere especially in the dumpsters and on the ground next to them. Thread, well, that was a bit trickier. To sew the fleshy squares together, I made due with duct tape and discarded strands of string.
Below, I study a crude patchwork of various colors. Skin is unique. There are so many glorious shades of colors. Hmm. But who? To decide, I tap my chin and sit in the middle to decide. Of course, I notice the immense rise of temperature around my body, or lack of, I suppose.
“Heh,” I mumble. “Silly me.” The solution was plainly obvious the entire time. My coat, while it catches, and laps up Jeffery, Melissa, Fred, Sam, and a yap, a most irritating woman, hungrily, my quilt, it unravels. Now, every person can sleep together, in the fire.
Gnashing, and a low growl erupts in the region of the stomach. I cough and spit several times, and then plug my noise. “Damn the smell. Damn it so much.”
There is a tongue, a wide one too, which I feel licking its teeth. But this tongue is not from my mouth, oh no! I rise and shake, much like a mutt would if a human had finished bathing and taken the pooch out of a tub. The coat gives away easily, reveling my one true self.
“Give!” the stomach snarls. “Want. Now.”
Smirking, I stroke my beard. “And what might you desire, friend?”
“No friend.”
“No, I suppose not,” I say. “Had I any hair on this melon, I’d feed it to you.”
“Want skin.”
I glance at the fire. Jeffery and Melissa, there is a little left. Relieved my vision has now improved after shaking off humanity, I reach out and gently, carefully, pry a few tenderloins of remains fused to the wood.
The stomach howls, yips, cries in delight.
I frown, not amused in the slightest. I hold the scraps between my claws just in the outskirts of its mouth. It can smell the meat but cannot not eat the morsels. Not yet.
The tongue slides out again. Reaching and swaying the tips of its tongue, the stomach tries to grab even a pinch.
“I like skin too,” I say, still frowning.
The tongue stretches out more.
Not willing to oblige, I toss Jeffery and Melissa.
Its tongue retracts back into the stomach in response and glances up questioningly.
I bend in half and place my bald head into its mouth. I hear the stomach gurgle and feel large globs of drool engulf the upper half of my torso. I’m sliding down now. Going through that special pipe which leads to my own tummy. Slipping further, further downward. Soon, my final destination will be inside. Inside the bowels of my own. In the darkness where demons roam free and torment my every moment. I lie and wait in my own tummy until the middle stomach heaves and I’m puked up through its mouth. Whole, complete, and ready.
I have no name. But I exist to feast.
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