Shadow Man

The girls of the club would call me “Shadow Man”, always there but never heard. What I lusted for could not be provided by their erotic dance. My hunger was for the lives of the men, themselves also watching in hunger. I would only slaughter the despicable. The click of the next dancer’s heels sent a twinge of pain through my highly sensitive ears, distracting me from the hunt. Her steps were elegant and nimble, despite the setting of her performance. Intrigued I sat in patience, calming the predator side of my being. The bowl of grapes that laid before me taste of nothing but a mere pile of ash, but absent mindedly I popped one in my mouth. She was perhaps the most graceful of her kind I had seen. The movements she made gave her dress the flow of fine silk, though I could smell it was of a much cheaper standard. However once and awhile she would take a misstep here or there, so subtle the mortal eye would never detect it. I felt the slightest pang of warmth, but I could not be sure for I forgot the feeling ages ago, when my body lost every drop and my soul lost every breathe of it. Her petite false steps charm me. It must be her. But I must be sure.

The back of “Feline” was a greasy gray alley, with noises making me jolt with every step I took away from the back door. But it was the only place the boss would let me light up. That night had an unnatural chill. I felt a rush of wind stampeding past with a force that almost caused feet to falter and give to the weight of my trembling body. I stood in shock to feel his lips soft as rose petals caressing my ears as he whispered. “Love, I didn’t plan to frighten you.” His words flowed like caramel. Shadow Man, it was a name the older girls had given him because he was a silent watcher, a fixture of the club. But for once his eyes held desperation, yearning, as if I had something he truly desired. I drew in quick sobs in the realization of what this could be.
It WAS her, my love lost to my change.