Cold

I can feel the hunger claw at my stomach like an animal. I always feel the hunger it never goes away, only lessens. Then it comes back full force, and once again I hunt. I’ve been through this cycle so many times now. How long has it been, weeks, years, centuries? It doesn’t matter now. All I know is hunger, and I see you. I see you standing there in the forest. Snow in your hair, and I recognized you. For a moment I recognize you as some thing I once was. I can see you there, even though you can’t see me, and I can see your ring so much like mine. Yours is on your left hand mine is-was on my right, but I am not that any more. I am now the predator, and you are my prey. Yet, once again I hesitate. I can’t fathom why. I am hungry. I want to satisfy my hunger and I will I tell myself, but first I watch you. Your shivering, are you cold? Is it cold? It been so long since I’ve felt it I’m not even sure if I felt it now I’d recognize it. Then suddenly there’s light. I take a step back still on all fours. You don’t hear me. I watch mesmerized. The light spreads. Fire. I remember the word now. Fire, I remember fire, how it hurt, it burned. How the people I had once thought of as my friends grew untrusting, and suspicious. I remember how they lite my house on fire, calling me many words a witch, a demon, a monster. I suppose I am a monster now, but the fire didn’t burn as much as the ice did. The ice, and snow that surrounded me, suffocated me. The ice I had run too, to try and escape the flames. I remember growing tired, and finally falling asleep. I see the light, now the fire shines against your ring, and suddenly I remember how much my own had once meant to me. How happy I was to receive it. Then how it all turned wrong. You have to understand it’s not my fault, they’re the ones who cast me out. They’re the ones that made me what I am. It’s they’re own fault they brought it on themselves. I feel the pain claw at my stomach once more. They brought this on to you too. They’re the reason for all this pain, and suffering. So you see I’m not the monster. They’re the monsters. Is it really so wrong for me to not wish to die, is it really so wrong for me to want the pain to stop? Ask yourself in my position would you do any differently? No you wouldn’t. So I hunt you now, chase you until your heart no longer beats. Perhaps one day you’ll become a monster too, and you get your revenge on me. The cycle will continue. I was given the power to right the wrongs done to me, and if you want it badly enough you can right the wrongs done to you. So ask yourself, would you?