Mated to Morpheus

MTM.26

a familiar touch

I let out a short sigh of relief and relaxed my shoulders, and that much needed action had my whole body drooping down like a sack of potatoes. Tears of hope came flowing down my hot cheeks, painted seemingly ages ago with terrible emotions and already held a stained path. I melted to the bottom of the forest, moulding myself in with the dirt from the earth, the same way caramel would on top of ice cream.

Ice cream would be so good right now.

The guy behind me, however, noticed how I went from rigid and stiff to as bendable as elastic. But, he was so consumed by his food, aka blood, fueled drive that he just didn't think anything of it. Instead, he just pulled my easily transportable body closer into his own, which wasn't much of a difference, but then he rested his pointy chin on the top of my head and successfully dribbled his disgusting mix of spit and blood into my hair. I could picture the hearts fly around his head, circling around as he watched the girl with a look in his eyes so intense and unlike any foodie I've ever seen possess before. And, uh, his prey, uh, his supper, was decaying at the rate of a snail on a mission, as in slowly, but surely.

Not to speak ill of the dead, but the scent of her being blown towards me by the moving trees made me want to hurl.

Painfully thin, freezing, practically frostbite for fingers dug into my arms, squeezing me tightly as the man let out yet another surprisingly high-pitched squeal of pure happiness. I flinched at the odd sound, in some creepy, unsettling way he reminded me of a scary Halloween clown. Of course, a clown that was badly traumatized and now hated the world with a passion as strong as cologne that's been drenched all over a piece of clothing. An insane, gone mad, deranged man. You know, the usual. He was completely out of his mind. Nothing about him was normal, nothing at all.

Thinking as hard as I could possibly do, I studied the way he talked, the way he looked, the way he acted, and tried to understand what he could be. I searched desperately for the much needed answer, just any distinguishing trait that could lead me towards the right direction, but there was no use. Everything I've ever learned about in school couldn't get me through this situation, not history class or English and definitely not math, my mind drew a blank. He was a literal zombie, but that was impossible, unrealistic. He even seemed more dead than the girl did, not that I actually had the chance to take a good look at her in the right light yet, but he was just so different than any other supernatural I've ever encountered, so undeniably strange.

Sometimes, witches would come into town with their fascinating outfits and whimsical speech, but they're never there to do serious work with humans. They would only smile and wave at us, teasing us with a flick of their fingers as if they know that none of us have the guts to say a normal hello. Yes, they're dangerous and could easily scare us to death with a simple word such as 'boo', but they were the friendliest and less visibly intimidating compared to the rest of them. Everyone wishes they could befriend them, but nobody ever does. Oh, well, call us cowards. But, he's not one of them, because every single witch gives off the same type of aura, and the vibe he's sending just ain't cutting it.

That leaves the last one I know about, werewolves. And, he shares no characteristics with those beasts at all. Believe me, I would know. It's the little things that gives the hidden wolf away, and he shows the opposite. His teeth, fangs, that are shaped just a bit too sharp at the ends, then it's the unlively feel and appearance of his incredibly pale skin, not to mention the way he left her body. She would have been chewed up by now, mauled, ripped to shreds, unrecognizable.