Smother
I watch him, a child, grow incredibly uncomfortably.
I feel my mouth watering at the thrill—foolish child, silly boy.
Turkish is feeding off my energy like a pig eating fresh slop. I watch how his emerald eyes flicker with a burst of enticement before sliding himself into the water—gone, practically invisible if not for his snout appearing every few seconds.
I know why he has done that, I appreciate his intellect.
“Oh my, oh my. What a paranoid little puppy,” I smile, my voice a mixture of cooing and mockery. Oh how I wish as a child I was gifted the art of paranoia and fear. Unfortunately I had to grow a pair(figuratively speaking). “Does mommy know you’re missing?”
The next to join is a bubbly little thing. A large black cat, smelling strong of feline odor. I half expected the dog to hate the cat more, after all are they not mortal enemies? Has anyone else not seen lady and the tramp? The Siamese cats?
And people say they hate snakes.
“I might ask what you did, but that would mean I care what you did. And let’s be honest in our triangle of three, I don’t give a rats ass what you did. Though clearly you do, if you’re letting it haunt you like a poltergeist in your closet of secrets.” I don’t go any closer, not edging myself by any means. I just slither to the left, slowly and quietly inching my way. My body expanding foot, by foot until all ten feet of me slinks out relaxed.
I have no patience for cowards. Whether he talked back to his mommy, or murdered four men and their dog, I don’t care. I admire those who are able to be honest about it, open up about it. I envy those who can be who they truly are, and make no excuses. I am that person. I will kill, have dreamt of killing, have imagined the art of torture and I am not hear trying to equalize my conscience.
I am here because something smelt tasty, and because children entice me.
“Is your poltergeist scary, puppy? Do you have nightmares, or hide in the meadow because you’re terrified of a little ghost in your closet of memoires? When the light goes out and the sun sets beyond our sight and the moon greets our existence… do you revisit your dark day? I do. I revisit it all the time.” I slither slightly closer, hardly enough for him to notice but yet maybe he is still being the paranoid cry baby I met five seconds ago.
One can hope that growing up happens quick.
“Let me tell you, little boy blue, that feeling doesn’t go away. The feeling of your angel conscience harping in your left ear, it doesn’t just dissipate. Or maybe you are lathering because you don’t feel any guilt.” I watch him, my voice part taunt and part soft.
“Maybe you are scared because you finally realized how much of a monster you truly are.”
