My Heart's Desire

I'm hungry. Starving really. My tongue slides across my lips and my stomach growls. A small table sits between us. An array of food covers it. He is a mere three feet away. It is like an itch. I want to take it. To savor it. To slowly chew as its liquid core rolls down my chin. I want to eat his heart.

I know it's horrible. I can't kill someone. It's inhumane. I won't. I'm not a bad person. Really. I just want to taste it. Just a little piece. Feel the sensation of my teeth sinking into the tissue and it beating within my mouth. The beating is the best part. But that would require the man to be alive. That's terrible. Grotesque. I would never even contemplate eating the heart of a man still alive.

I twitch in my seat, struggling with temptation. I can hear it. The constant thumping. It teases me. Every beat mocks me, draws me in. There is a knife next to my plate, meant for the plethora of meats at the table. It's very sharp. Sharp enough to cut straight through a human chest. My hand taps the table. I'm so hungry. But I can't. I won't. It thumps again.

My finger rests on the handle of the knife. Maybe I'll have a little meat. I take a fork and stick it into the steak, moving it onto my plate. It's roundish. A similar shape. Though it doesn't beat. It really needs to beat. I look at him. He's eating intently. Doesn't see me. Wouldn't even notice if I moved. If I came up behind. But I wouldn't come up behind. I'm not evil. Murder is wrong.

I slice into the steak. I imagine the meat to be it and the juice to be its blood. I dig in. I'm not satisfied. Still starving for it. I take another glance. He's pretty old. It's not like he'll need it much longer. He's probably tired. Done. He lived long. At least his heart shouldn't go to waste. His plump, delicious heart. I need it. He doesn't.

It thumps once more. That's it. It wants me to do it. It's begging me. How can I not? I'm not evil. This is just what I want. Like other's desire steak and cheese, I desire heart. And, just as they get what they desire, is it not right that I should get what I desire? Is that not fair? I'm not the bad one. You are. How can you deny me what I crave?

He still doesn't see me. He doesn't notice as I stand. He doesn't pay attention as I slink toward him. The knife is warm. I'm behind him. I won't leave him alive. Only a monster would leave him alive. I'm not a monster. Though I want it to beat. It's so much better when it beats. But again–I'm not a monster. It thumps again. Its final thump.

I slice at his neck. His head rolls off. I watch it thud onto the floor and settle. Eyes open but empty. He looks surprised. It's truly horrible. I gag. It’s hard to look at it. But it needed to be done. It was necessary. At least he's not alive. I did the right thing. He won’t feel any pain.

His heart rests within his chest. I can no longer hear it. But I can feel it. I can smell it. My mouth waters. I turn the body around. It's odd. I've never seen a man without a head. I sigh. I don't like it. But what can I do? I bring the knife to his skin and make the incision. It was simple enough. My hand enters into him pulling it out. It's so beautiful. I hold for a moment, just to admire. Until my appetite grows too large. My hunger, too great. I take a bite.

The muscle melts in my mouth. The blood, sauce, runs down my face. It is amazing. I take another bite. And another. I can't get enough. It's finished. I'm still hungry. I still desire more. Better. I still want it to beat.

I look around the restaurant. They stare. Everyone stares. Their eyes filled with horror. They question me. Why do they question me? I'm just doing what's right. G-d gave me this desire. He did. I didn't implant it in my own head.

I try to explain. Their eyes don't change. Constant questioning. I look to the closest man. I hear it. His heart thumps. I'm still starving. But he's younger. He has more time. I can't. The knife is still in my hand. Blood drips from it. The man steps backward. He has a limp. I can catch him. It wouldn't be hard.

It thumps again. Another calling. I want it to beat. I walk up to him. His body twitches. Will he run? It's too late. He's on the ground. My knife cuts easily through his flesh. It's still beating. Perfect. My mouth encompasses the heart. It thumps. I love it. I chew. It tastes so good. I chew more. My teeth slice through so easily. It’s like butter. I finish. My face, now entirely red. I lift my eyes.

They still watch. But their eyes are different. More understanding. They know I'm right. They see my desire.

A man approaches. His heart thumps. He can see my want. He wants to provide. He's a good person. He presents himself to me. I rip him open. His heart, just as delicious.

A line forms. My hunger, unquenchable. I need more. Therefore they provide it. I'm not a good person. I'm perfect. One by one. Heart by heart. I devour. The floor, a pool of blood. The thumping surrounds me. Each thump, a calling. But not just to me. A call to all humanity. One that they cannot resist. And they don’t. The line dwindles. Until. There is no one left.

But I'm still hungry.

The world is quiet.

A heart thumps.

My own.