I create the dead. Part 1
The music played in a seductive rhythm as the crowd filled the outside amphitheatre moving in the direction of the stage with the frenzy of suicidal lemmings off the cliff’s edge. The sweat flowed off their bodies causing their skin to glisten. The voice of the lead singer poured over the crowd. The audience responded to the band’s performance with passionate cries of approval and glassy eyed looks of adoration.
The mass of disappointed minions huddled outside of the venue, weary of begging for tickets from less dedicated late attendees. Tears streamed down the faces of the zealots who reeked of seasoned body order and fresh marijuana and had obviously followed the band on tour.
I watched all of them from my perch on the wall separating the amphitheatre from the rest of the surrounding farm land. I felt their need, their passion. I tasted it on the wind and let the pulse of their combined heart beats fill my senses.
I felt the presence of those hunting me. It had taken them many days to catch up, my prey is too close for me to be taken before I make my kill.
The lead singer posed on stage, arms wide and his silhouette looming over the audience. The lights pulsed to the beat of the song while the audience sang all the words clapping on cue. Their chosen savior seduced until the audience could no longer remain clothed, flinging shirts and underwear like offerings on an alter.
I gathered my legs beneath me and flung myself toward the stage. The 300 foot drop was no challenge letting the wind guide my approach. My prey recognized me. The taste of his fear on my tongue was delightful. Flexing my claws I made sure the stage lights caught their full length, I moved swiftly toward the lead singer. Accepting me as special effects of the show the clueless audience cheered in the same rhythm as the still beating heart in my hands.