Alone

I stared at the beige ceiling. Rolled over to stare at the beige walls. The paint scheme was intended to be calming, soothing. It was blah. Like me. My existence sucked.
I shambled to the bathroom. Relieving one’s self, what an appropriate term. I shuffled back to the bedroom, checked the clock. A little after nine. Climbed back into bed, but no use. Mind a blank, soul empty. Damn, might as well get up.
Stomach growled, trying to get my attention. Food meant going upstairs to the kitchen.
I live in the basement of my house. Sleeping area, bathroom, TV, and a small desk with a computer. Large bookcase, books and manuscripts piled everywhere. Windows covered to ensure privacy. Tranquil, less energy to heat or cool, my sanctuary in a turbulent world. What else did I need? Someone to share a conversation with. Anything to relieve the tedium.
I have Vinnie. He doesn’t talk much, some food, water, and a couple of hours with the grow light and he is happy. l feed him small insects and watch. They have no idea that innocent looking greenery is going to end their pathetic lives. Sometimes I join him in his dinner.
         A tremor ran through me thinking of food. The hunger became a craving.
         I went upstairs. The kitchen a dark cave on this moonless night. I seized a Little Debbie, sucked out the center. Ahh, what a rush. Snagged a Twinkie, did the same. Grabbed a Moon Pie, a couple of brownies, and a Royal Crown Cola. I need to supplement my diet with sugar.
         The hunger quenched for now, I head back downstairs. I sat in front of the beige computer and flicked it on. Checking my email was an exercise in stupidity. Parents dead, brother dead, no friends, no lover, no one. I sighed and checked anyway. It was something to do, take up time. I have lots of time. If not for spam and monthly bank statements, I would have no mail. Except for Larry, my current publisher. Annoying, insistent Larry. He wanted to know when my latest novel would be finished.
         “Fuck you; I’ll finish it when I’m damn ready.”
         I stared at the wall.
Fuck. I closed my browser and opened Word only to stare at the blinking cursor. Just the computer and me.
         Alone and empty. Empty of passion, alone in my basement. Life. What was life? A placeholder for death. And death a long cold tedious night. Alone in the monochrome of existence.
          Opened my music folder. Who Wants to Live Forever by Queen filled the basement. Closed my eyes and let Freddie take me to soaring heights of melancholy. I snorted. Shit, melancholy, I dreamed of just being melancholy.
         The song ends. Silence descends on the room. Not quite. Tilted my head, concentrated. Yes, there it was faintly, people talking. Being summer, maybe the neighbors were grilling. They have not done that since their little girl went missing a year ago.
         I drifted over to the stairs. Yes, definitely people talking and laughing. I took a quick shower. Brushed my teeth. Ran fingers through still damp dark locks, threw on clothes I’d purchased online. Clothes and groceries delivered right to your door. Never a need to leave the house.






         Peered out the kitchen window. Twenty people milled around my neighbor’s backyard. The patio lit from the porch light and six Tiki torches. People dressed in bright colors, Hawaiian shirts, floral dresses, swirls of color in a pool of light. Laughing, talking, being social. The smell of meat cooking. It has been a long time since I socialized.
         A woman caught my attention. Tall. Blond hair cascaded to the top of her ass. She wore an emerald green sarong that fell to her ankles. A side slit flashed a tan leg. Top tight across her large breasts, no bra. Someone said something funny; she tilted her head back as she laughed. Desire stirred.
An image flashed unbidden, Constance as she sat for her portrait. A high white lace collar on a dark blue silk blouse. Honey hair piled high, emphasizing her long neck. Aquiline nose, robin-egg blue eyes, and a mouth that was easy to laugh or pout if she did not get her way. Constance, the sun that had shined on my world. It had been so long ago, She a successful opera singer, I a struggling writer. Until a bargain changed everything. Constance my love, my fickle muse, my first.
My inner demon growled. My appetite a demanding mistress, who would brook no rival.
I snarled and clenched my fist. Buried the memory in a deep recess, where it could not break free.
I slipped outside into the gloom of night, stalked over to the privacy hedge that separated our yards. Slipped through a shadowed break in the six-foot hedge, and melted into the shadows in the backyard.










Wayne National Forest borders our properties, a vast track of wilderness. Constance and I used to go for long walks in the woods. Standing at the tree line, I whispered my command into the night air, “Come my lovely lady, come to me.”
The tall blonde shook her head at first, resisting. I sent a stronger command. Come to me. She came. She left the glow of the party for the obscurity of the night, stumbling as if drunk. I held out my hand. She fell into my arms, eyes half closed, wanting.
I clasped her tighter. As I went deeper into the woods, the heat from her body warmed me, my hunger a craving I could not deny. I brushed her hair away from her face. Eyes heavily lidded she leaned away from me, stared into my eyes, mouth slightly parted as she wet her full lips.
Bending down I licked her neck. She moaned. I smelled her excitement. I danced my tongue along her throbbing artery. She moaned again and dropped her head. I grabbed a handful of hair, jerked her head back. When she gasped, I continued licking. Such a pretty neck. Tanned skin stretched taut.
I started to feed.
She gave a soft groan, pushed her body tighter against mine. I reached up, feeling the fullness of her breast, the hardness of her nipple against my palm. Using my thumb, I moved her nipple in a slow circle. She shuddered as I drained her of blood, of passion. Her body slowly deflated. My demon demanded all of her.
All too soon, my feast ended with a lifeless husk in my arms. I moved down the trail to a boulder as tall as two men. Holding her in one arm, I moved the boulder with the other. Rolled it aside to reveal a sinkhole. When I dropped her body into the hole, her blonde hair fluttered into the dark. I listened as she hit the bones of the others before her. I pushed the boulder back and headed home.
The neighbors were calling for her. Fear in their voices from a remembered disappearance a year ago. I went back downstairs. Full of stolen passion. I went back to my computer and started writing. Finished three chapters of my latest paranormal romance before the passion dissipated. I closed my eyes. My brief contact with life momentarily stirred half remembered feelings. Fleeting at best. I opened my eyes. Nothing had changed.
Back to my beige existence. I stared at the blinking cursor. Pulled the wings off a fly, fed it to Vinnie. I reached for the stack of delivery fliers, flipped through them.
Maybe I would have Chinese later.