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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1956586-Aroma
Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Dark · #1956586
Don't be late ...
I can taste you from miles away.

I’m not boasting, I’m just saying.

First things first, so we can get off on the right foot as they say … I'm not hunting you as of this moment, but that doesn't mean you're safe from me.

Not at all my weary little friend…

In fact, once I can sense you… well…

Truth is, with the way things have been going for a while now, you’ve probably ran into me before.  Well, not me literally, but one of my kind. We get around a lot better nowadays, once we got used to the smell that is. Your aroma is viciously enticing and that made things … difficult, to say the least.

It is one thing to herd the sheep to the slaughter, as my old friend John used to say, but quite another to learn the benefits of peaceful moderation.

Yeah, that one took a long time I’m afraid.

Some of the lesser of us even learned a new word, abstinence. Hell, I’m almost certain that you’ve ran into those self hating half breeds. They posses our genes but despise our history, and shun the hunting moon as if they could avoid its call by sheer will. Chaining themselves away from the dance, raising their own cattle for when they do hunt… despicable freaks. Embrace your destiny I always say, the crimson grace of unabashed satiation is the divine will of my creator. Alpha does as Alpha will.

I sit here at this flimsy little table tonight all alone though for a reason. I like to write about my hunts, call it an obsession if you will, but it keeps me calm before my storm. By now though you already know why I’m writing to you, to you in particular. This diner has been on my mind for some time now. It’s a nice enough place, a little cramped for my tastes, but it sits peacefully twenty miles from the nearest town. In about half an hour that will mean something dreadful to everyone here, everyone human that is.

As I said before, I like to write about my turns at the dance, have been for years. I can smell you my friend, and as usual you’re late. I’ll be sure to tell your wife Lauren all about your latest pre-occupation in town before I dance with her. Bet she’s been wondering why you’ve always been late these last few months. I’ve been counting on that though, and if you’ve made it this far after what you’ve seen tonight, well… you really should have ran away screaming.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1956586-Aroma