Gnawing, excruciating silence that keeps nibbling on your conscience one nerve at a time.
You could have heard a pin drop if only there was one. But no, there was no pin; creatures of the night do not give a Hamster’s foot about pins.
Dusk was fast approaching, miles slower than the speed of light but a tad faster than death. Death, he mused, was such a sadistic pig. It always approached from the most unlikely of places to snatch away a soul at the most unexpected moment. But death really was glorious, he concluded; very glorious!
He dug his steel like finger nails deeper into the dry trunk of the Baobab tree which stood its solitary ground near the shore, sulking under the despair of old age. He waited; waited for the Ferry to start its short journey across the watery canopy which, in its deathly calmness, housed evil creatures making their insidious underwater sprints in the dead of the night. He waited for the moon to disappear behind pockets of grey clouds and provide the perfect arena for the long awaited slaughter.
It had now been two centuries since his last slaughter. Darn, he craved for blood. He missed the inexplicable feeling of warm blood trickling down his throat! Tonight was the night the creatures of the night would feast on the poor earthlings. Poor, succulent earth things. Weak, vulnerable, delicious scum of the earth hills.
The mighty ship honked twice. The black Crow circled the Baobab thrice. That’s all he needed. At dawn the morning breeze will wake only to find gaping eye sockets and lifeless bodies………