When the Flesh Cries Back

The young woman scratches her short nails against the bandages in quick succession. Her chocolate eyes scan the estate eight times as simpleton transports her possessions around for her. She notes that the house appears plucked straight from Transylvania’s Gothic era. However, she knows Canada didn’t have its first European settlers for another three centuries.

The woman’s left eye slightly twitches as they holds her scientific equipment with little to no care. The prices for the pre-order alone are more than enough to pay their annual salary for the next decade; they have no right to hold them like children handling new toys. One of the imbeciles notices her deep stare and, with an attentive cough, the other idiots finally treat her equipment like the fragile pieces they are.

A slim peak of a sneer pokes through her lips. Specific individuals simply don’t understand the fine art of advanced anatomical and cellular biology. However, she can’t complain. With all the glassware, medical tools, machinery, and cell cultures she needs to move, she knows it can take her weeks to settle in. At least with them, she will be done packing by the end of the day.

The insatiable metallic aroma wafts through her nose. She looks down at her forearm with haste. Stoic irritation fills her as the crimson-red stain grows beneath the light blue cotton sheaths she wrapped with precision and care. Her strides to the nearest washroom are with no time to spare.

The wrapped bandages she spent each moment being careful with were ripped off in seconds. She watches as maroon droplets peek through the vertical tears from her chocolate skin. Waiting is no longer an option; it is too much for her to resist.

She then takes her sixth meal of the day.

The moment her blood hits her tongue, her eyes roll to the back of her head. Her moans of satisfaction must be quiet, not disturbing her movers. The world around her calms as her ravenous hunger is sated with every suck from her skin. The slight bitter hint on her tongue, the same hint that she has grown familiar with for the past six years, fuels the addiction in every single way.

The woman feels herself getting lost in her ill fantasy. Sharp savoy feathers poke through her shoulder blades as the woman transforms into a beast of the night. Thunder cracks over her as the sparks reveal the ghastly sight. Her fangs gnaw and chew on her recent kill. The flesh still warm from the life it once had before she stole-

A knock throws her back into her washroom again. Pity, she was getting to the good part.

“Ms Okoro? What would you want us to do with the large refrigerator?” The main mover guy asks. The man with no care or consideration for pronouncing her family name briefly paints her surroundings in crimson. Ms Okoro wipes off the last of her prey’s blood with deep sorrow as she returns to reality. She opens the door, and her desire to backhand the man for disturbing her meal is immeasurable.

“Please place the cooling device downstairs in the basement. And do be careful with my instruments. The University didn’t pay for any of my equipment. It would be a shame if I had to hand over the invoice for any damages. So please make the right decision,” Her sickly calm voice rips the vitality off the man’s face. She then struts past him while pulling down her mauve sleeves, concealing her deep shame.

Now will be a fantastic time to disappear into her laboratory for her research. It is always something that puts her mind at ease. However, her lab space must be fully set up before even considering working on her life’s work.

She is more than welcome to utilise the laboratory in the Biomedical department, but she knows her work will not yield accurate results.

As she walks outside, the decaying leaves surround her home. The imagery burns her retinas with swirls of orange, reds, and purples. She then walks down the front stairs and into the forest. The world around her fades as she continues walking into the vast unknown.

Watching the trees bend, curve, and fade from existence is a home away from home. Her stiletto heels take strides underneath the crunching leaves. The jagged terrain is futile beneath her beastly steps. Her body takes control of her mind as she transports into her fantasy. The woman closes her eyes, becoming immersed in herself.

The woman walks by the silhouette without a passing glance. The shadow, insistent as always, makes moves to surround her. However, unlike the other times, she embraces its deep embrace. Her feet merge onto the forest floor as the woman becomes one with the darkness.

Her eyes flutter beneath her eyelids as she feels the familiar figure. The woman scolds her body as shivers run down her spine. Sensitive ears pick up the calculated steps, draw breaths and increase pressure.

“May I come in, Christine Okoro?” The whispered request floats in the air for a few seconds. The figure is determined, but she knows that any answer that can allude to an invitation to her psyche will place her in ruin.

“Why did you bring me here?” Christine asks. The whisper hums in intrigue. She’s charting in newfound territories. This change does not go unnoticed by the whisper.

“Interesting. Your usual question of ‘What do you want?’ has changed. Why?” It asks. Christine, irritated by this answer, desires more.

“Every time, you reject my answer, I reject your invitations, you never truly leave, and I come back, like clockwork. I have been feeling your presence more often; I know that you are to blame,” The woman scanned every possible reaction to her outrageous claim.

She didn’t prepare for the guffaw echoing around in her mind. The pressure to open her eyes itches within her. She can’t risk the only bridge between her safety and the figure.

At least not yet.

“Would you like to fly, my Impundulu?” The beast’s question rattles the woman’s core. Christine scolds herself for the reaction. She can say no, go back and continue researching.

Instead, she nods, sealing her fate. Christine gets whisked away from their interdimensional plane. The woman feels herself moving through galaxies and reality before feeling her feet land in a foreign land.

Christine finally opens her eyes and looks around in a forest. Disgust from the woman heightens as the pouring rain transforms the forest floor into sludge, trapping her on her heels.

She’s in another dimension, a more primal world. Unlike Chaturanga, the air feels foreign but familiar. The woman can’t see past the thick terrain that the beast placed her in.

The dimension feels like the jungles of the Ivory Coast. It has thick trees, long vines, and a dense canopy. The whisper was nowhere to be seen, but his lurking presence meant he was nearby.

Christine senses a human. It’s male, late-twenties, European, and O negative—the universal donor. Christine’s teeth can’t help but ache from his delicious scent.

However, much to her dismay, she resists the urge. The woman is still under the power surge from Chaturanga. Christine is standing on a tight rope of control, and if she falls, then there is no going back.

“Prey upon him,” Her inner creature pleads within her. Christine takes a deep breath and resists the inner voice. She turns her head, realising that there’s nothing there.

Her mind then goes back to the beast and what he said. Her eyes widened, and now she realised why she was there; he wanted her to devour someone. Rather than letting her prowess deviate from the very thing she has been able to avoid.

Despite wanting to flee, her hunger becomes irritable.

“Feast on his soul,” The inner monster screeches. The woman, usually calm with composure, blocks her ears in a futile attempt to shun her out. But it’s becoming relentless.

“Devour him, NOW.” Her inner monologue commands. Christine bends down, her eyes widen as the pressure becomes too much. The woman’s vision blurs as she holds onto her sanity in fleeting desperation.

Christine takes deep breaths as she calms down. She can feel her resolve return rightfully to her. Her bent-over body straightens, and she releases a sigh of relief.

Christine’s future screams echo through the trees. This throws Christine off balance as she tries to regain control. However, her inner self has the advantage and swarms her mind.

“Do it.

Do it.

Do it.

DO IT.

DO IT,”

Christine feels the tightrope disintegrate as she falls into the abyss of her demise.

Christine’s transformation was the incarnation of horror. The woman’s screech echoes through the forest as her wings manifest in a flash. The feathers burst through her skin and fabric.

Christine’s jaw, teeth, and nose clump into bone and cartilage. Her skull cracks and changes into a narrow shape. Her mouth morphs and hardens into a beak. Her hair clumps together and forms into flocks of feathers. Her eyes push to the sides, increasing her range of sight. The creature flies above the trees and into the heavens.

She has become one with the beast.

Her eyes concentrate on her prey as she dives down with the wind. The victim, holding his hand out in pain, screams from whatever caused it pain. Thunder and lightning flash behind the ghastly thing, and its sharp beak targets the insignificant soul’s neck as she takes the big bite.

Sweet metallic blood fills her mouth with deep satisfaction as her fangs clench harder against the warm tissue. The creature indulges in the nauseating act as her hunger is finally sated. Thunder rolls behind the beautiful beast as she feels its prey squirm beneath her. Its pathetic screams are music to her ears.

The sweet taste of flesh and blood lingers in her mouth. She leans her head back and releases a sigh of relief. The lifeless body sinks into the muddy plains, its blank blue eyes stare up at the heavens.