Sleep, peaceful and restful envelops her as she lies in sweet serenity in her chosen place. Then, as the last light of the dying day fades over the horizon she begins to stir, as her appointed time for awakening has come. Deep in her body hunger also begins to stir, rolling slowly at first, and then as her awareness grows so too does the hunger, twisting into a sickening knot in her stomach. Her eyes fly open, fierce in the evening light, cold in the darkness, blue black spheres of appetite searching the night for their prey. Then, off in the distance a sound, a motion…Drip…Drip…Drip. Her ears perk up and her nostrils flare, sucking in the taste of all around her. THERE! The scent of sweet nectar, of that life giving fluid to which we are all beholden, to which we all owe our existence and lives, that which is desirable over all else. With the scent burning her nostrils she flies into a rage, violently attempting to throw off the restraints of her place of rest, surging forward to attack the pitiful victim, locking on and sucking within instants, draining, draining, and draining away the vast reserve that now will serve to sustain her for one more evening.
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So that is what I am thinking when Alesa eats. Some of you may find that to be strange, but I am sure you'll get over it.
1 comment:
hahahaha. Awesome
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