Today on Drabble Wednesday walk among the carrion and join the devourers, the eaters of the dead...
You know the worst part of this gig? The smell. Not what I imagined. I figured it would be the process itself. Loading the flesh, hauling everything to the factory. Watching it be ground up, knowing what went into the general food supply. I figured that would get to me.
Funny, it didn’t. Guess you can adapt to anything. But the smell. Some of those bodies plain reeked... human decomposition has an odor let me tell you.
I’m just glad this job came with real food perks.
No way I wanted to eat that processed stuff they feed most people.
Her stilted gait picked its way past the corpses, her body hunched, her bobbing head tilted to one side. Her feathered head ruffled in the breeze, and her yellow eyes darted across the battlefield, looking.
Where, where? Which one, which one?
Her bony arms fluttered slightly. A movement echoed by the hoards of her kind waddling their way through the dead. Each one searching, like her, for their perfect carcass. Suddenly, she stopped. She sniffed the air.
There, there. He’s the one.
Like many of her fellows, she trundled over to a fallen warrior, knelt down and began to feast.
I hunt for a living.
It ain’t pretty, no glory, no adventure. It’s boring, mostly, just waiting around. Stalking some poor hapless oaf, following him until he dies. That’s the only fun part, after the person kicks off.
I can smell them you see, humans about to die. Doesn’t matter if they’re sick, or about to be murdered, or hit by a bus. The stench of impending death clings like maggots on a rotting corpse.
So I wait. For their last breath.
Then I swoop in, a nameless shadow, and devour their soul.
That’s the prize. Humans are so delicious.
© A. F. Stewart 2017 All Rights Reserved