Groundhog

The shadow walker (unfinished)

                He watched as the man slept, listening to his breathing patterns. He seems healthy enough. Not that it mattered.

He crawled into many a meat suit, a sick man can pull a trigger just the same. Though it wasn't always a gun.

One time he made an old lady drive off a cliff. He could feel her fear pulsing through him, making him well again. That was a desperate, 'this is good for now' kind of deal though.

Then there was that accountant. For shits and giggles, and a quick snack, he took control of his body, slit his throat, and fed off his fear while the greedy dick bled out. He recalled the accountant's memories, and smirked. He had his partner killed so he could take complete control of the firm. As he bled to death, he thought of where he was going in the after life. He was a catholic, and that fear of Hell was the salt and pepper of the meal, the zazz that enhances the negative energy.

He was a black mass with a consciousness. He was concentrated darkness, and his existence meant old energy ceased to exist, and needed to constantly be replaced. So he replaced the energy by feeding off the negativity energy emmitted from live beings.

Feeding off the negative energy from someone commiting suicide was fine in a bind, but burning down a church? Now that's good eatin'! Then there was that thing in Vegas. He took possession of some old fart and shot up a concert, all from the comfort of his hotel room! The death toll was on the lower end, but damn, that risidual fear the public felt during that time was savory. Striking fear into them on a world wide scale was what he lived for.

He's shot musicians and presidents dead, ended nations, and build news on the back of the dead, just to destroy them again. He's ended worlds, killing them and feasting on the blackness left in the aftermath. Whole planets were left lifeless, living things dying off, and their ecosystems terminal.

Him and his kind drain and destroy galaxies, leaving behind barren wasteland after barren waste land, dead vessel after dead vessel.

Sometimes, they did it right under their noses too, wittling away at them little by little in stead of feeding off them quickly. You have to be patient. Wait for the jackpot. The big one.

This one was the big one. Sure, manipualting a failed german artist into ordering the murder of millions was huge, but this is bigger. He peered down at the man. He could already see his memories. He could even see what he was dreaming. If he had a mouth he'd be smirking. His ruby eyes pulsed as he saw images of trysts with women who were not his wife. He dreamed of women, power, and God, or him being God that is.

You will never be a God, but you will be just as Good.

He climbed into the man's body, disappearing into his chest. He could feel the blood pumping through the man's veins, something that was always awkward. With him being made of out of negative energy, he had no veins, and no need for them.

He opened his eyes. Bingo.

***

"Good morning, sir. Your break fast is ready."

"I'm having some stomach cramps, go a head and wrap it up for me, I'll eat it for lunch. oh and have the car ready in 10 minutes." He said. The thought of eating a living thing disgusted him.

These savages make me sick.

He put on the suit the old man's memory told him was his favorite suit. Then he put on the hair piece. He looked in the mirror, unsure if the others also noticed how fake it looked. The man's memory said this was apart of his image. Best to dress how he normally dressed, then nothing will appear off. If the appearence is there, they tend to look away at everything else that seemed off.