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I Cannot Face The Light (standard:horror, 884 words)
Author: G.H. HaddenAdded: Jan 25 2008Views/Reads: 1654/1070Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
I hunt for food and not for pride. A fate far worst than suicide. I am the predator that walks the night. Never again to face the light! (A poetic tale of the macabre.)
 



I Cannot Face The Light 

By G.H. Hadden 

The neon bulbs illuminate my darkened world of sin and hate. The sky
begins to bleed a crimson red, awakening the living dead. 

In twilight's glow the sun will go, to beckon night in famished sight.
Amidst the towers of steel and glass, outside wealthy homes, or on 
parkland grass: THEY scurry about all through the streets, those mortal 
fools on whom I feed. 

But mine is the fate far worst than death. I awake to take your final
breath. The sun is down and so I rise, To cut my victims down to size! 

The rising moon shall guide my way, black is the night, my working day.
From my sanctuary I emerge, driven by a primordial urge. 

In the labyrinth's dampness and decay, here in loneliness I hide away. 
But feel the hunger now getting strong; I can't resist this urge for 
long.  I climb the steps to reach the street, unsuspecting city at my 
feet. Temptation grows, God knows I try--but with so many passers-by; 
every person that I meet represents a tasty treat. 

I hunt for food and not for pride. A fate far worst than suicide. I am
the predator that walks the night. Never again to face the light! 

I pass the stores, the banks, the restaurants and the clubs.  People are
laughing, dancing and drinking in the pubs.  All part of a world that I 
once knew, and I tell myself this can't be true! 

With restless thoughts my brain is astir, racing faster than a blur.  Do
I exist?  Can this be real?  Only guilt and hunger can I feel.  Pass a 
mirror and my wide eyes gaze.  Of my reflection there's not a trace! 

And with the toll of midnight's bell, that time of night I know all too
well.  I've grown too week, I lack the will.  My racing thoughts turn 
to the kill! 

Now I know you're bound to take offense. But let me state in my own
defense; I feed on those whose souls are dead, Their bodies beaten to 
the end. Their minds explode with broken dreams, And I mercifully 
silence their woeful screams! 

The time is near and I feel the spark.  Strolling through the gates of
Central Park.  This twisted winding garden path echoes the footsteps 
wrought by Satan's wrath. 

The evil pulse within me quakes and there she is for Heaven's sakes!  A
cardboard box is now her home, lying out here all alone.  Was once a 
child, so innocent and sweet, but now she lives upon the street.  The 
bottle is lying at her side; her only friend has left her blind. 

And she looks up without a care! Smiling as she sees me standing there.
I look into her vacant stare. She's all but gone I realize, I'm the 
only one who hears her cries! 

She's calling to me in the night; "Come, release me from my hopeless
plight!"  And staring deep into those sorrowful eyes, I cannot help but 
empathize. 

I feel the boil within my blood, and I loose all control, as I knew I
would.  My fangs pierce through her silky skin, she gives a stifled 
scream, and I begin: 

To drain her life, her fluid force, and when I'm done, she's just a
corpse!  And as the evil flows within my veins, the power of God 
dilutes my shame. 

Euphoric rush into my brain; although I know I've killed again! 

I hunt for food, and not for pride. A fate far worst than suicide. I've
bought myself a little time. But is it worth this life of crime? 

And now my need is satisfied, my hunger gone and one more died.  Feeling


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