John sat up, he had had another dream, one of his daughter. He hadn't had that many dreams lately, hadn't talked to the voice that much either, not since he doubled his efforts. Every day they found more and more of the smell, and every day they ate more and more of it. They were going through an area that had a lot of kids, it was a place where people would live, outside of the city. John tried to think of it, but his mind was muddled, as was such when he ate to block out the voice. John gritted his teeth, he hated it, how he couldn't do some of the things he liked without having to have the things that hurt him.
John belched, spittles of blood and spit spraying all over the front of his shirt. He was going to start getting hungry soon, and then the voice would come back. Maybe he should let the voice come back? No... then again... Well, the voice was right when it said that there are the good feelings with the bad ones, and the good feelings were quite amazing really. But again, the bad feelings...
It's a price to pay...
John jolted. There it was; the voice.
I'll keep coming back, John, and so will the feelings. Not that you don't secretly enjoy them.
John didn't enjoy the feelings, they hurt him and some even made his body burn hot.
Don't deny it, John. You're not like those monsters you call your children.
But they weren't monsters, they really were his children.
No. They aren't.
Yes, they were, they were his children!
John grit his teeth and pounded his head, willing the voice away. Listen to your children, focus on them. John stopped pounding his head and tried to relax his body as he listened to the steady buzz of his children, feeling himself ride along the waves of the signals they gave off.
He. Was. Different. Yes... John was something different, something powerful, he was above those who were also diseased: he was the alpha. Yes, alpha—the wolf, the big wolf, the true wolf. He led the pack, led them to their prey. John sniffed at the air, the smell was so delicious, he needed more; his pack needed more. John looked down on his pack and remembered a line from a book about a wolf that he used to read to his daughter, 'My, what sharp teeth you have.'
Yes—John smiled a row of bloody, diseased teeth—what sharp teeth indeed.
YOU ARE READING
Burden.
Короткий рассказA sort of short story that is a side piece to a work in progress. This short story, while having a very fictitious premise, uses its strange narration to try and eventually touch on the burdens people go through, whether it be guilt, a form of drug...
