“Do we have to bring another one so soon? These bodies get heavier and heavier every time.”
“Shut up and keep hauling.”
“Ugh. Fine. But you’re taking me to get an ice cream after we dump it.”
“Don’t say that.”
“‘Dump it’. Don’t say ‘dump it’.”
“It’s so… irreverent. Like we’re common crooks or mafia thugs or something. Like we’re lowly peons.”
“Aren’t we lowly peons? I mean, we’re dragging a body, and it’s not for our own sakes. Right?”
“We’re not peons.”
“Then what are we?”
The night grew thick in that moment. As if a spirit-filled fog settled between the two quarrelers. The more convicted one looked to the complainer a moment. Looked to him and decided that, yes. Maybe the fellow next to him was, in fact, a peon.
But he, himself, was more.
So much more.
He looks away from the fellow. A dark pooling sensation settling in his stomach. Gurgling and oozing. Hiding what was beneath the surface.
Looking away from his companion, he says what he’s thinking out loud.
“I’m not sure what you are, but I know:
“I’ll be the one that wields the beast.”
Continue reading “Hunger”