Unrecognized (Part I)

Accounts of Ashlen. First night of Fall.

Lamplight dazzles in the distance, marking the end of the beaten path. As I near the end I realize how close I am to my apartment. The forest was a few blocks away from home and I didn't even know it– I should really get out more.

The trail spits me into town and I immediately identify the small mom and pop shop that always closes early. I make my way down the hushed streets, seeing the glow of my personal Star of David, the sign for Gus' Gas Station. My little studio is just kitty-corner of the stop mart and right under the Chinese takeout place. That restaurant is my usual go too whenever I'm too lazy to cook, which is pretty much everyday.

This part of the city has a different feel from the woods. The forest was comparable to a conversation between close friends but this low traffic area is strangers gossiping as they sneak stares your way. I feel uneasy and out of place, but also intrigued with its whispered secrets.

There's a scent wafting off cement, it's as if I can smell the past where thousands have walked. The shadows are harsher here, painting the looming gray buildings and neighboring alleys. It gives off a sensation of uncertainty, like being watched.

I come across a gangly street lamp and stop, mesmerized, staring into the bulb. The light appears to be in a battle with the dark, dueling with illuminated daggers, taking spiteful stabs rather than dancing in harmonious sway with its black counterpart.

Things that were ordinary are distracting, even after dragging myself away from the lamplight I find myself overly occupied. The cracks in the cement and the crispy sounds that bounce off the brick and pavement. It's an endless stream of unknown. Over the months I had become familiar with my little corner but now it's transformed into something unrecognizable.

I watch the live-wire sign of Wild Lotus, that Chinese cafe I'd constantly pour money into. Bright energy wiggling and squirming, striving to break free from the fluorescent tubes. The orange lines radiate like hellish coals. A sight once mundane now fascinating and dynamic.

Out of nowhere I'm sucker-punched by a delectable aroma– and it isn't the Chinese food. I'm nearly drooling as that ferocious need expands within. The scent promises the comfort of a decadent feast and my guts churn as if I haven't eaten in a month. That warm, soft perfection is all I can process. An overpowering perfume pairing with this tangible rhythm making it too unbearable to stay away.

A pressure builds behind my eyes as they scour for the source of that agonizingly appetizing sound, the smell. Clamping down on my nagging teeth, I try to think through the haze. I must have whatever that freakishly enticing *thing* is.

I hone in on the repetitive tune, stalking it like a visible trail to a lone car parked by a fumy station pump. I'm floating on the scent, being reeled by it. The anticipation makes me ache but euphoric knowing it will be mine soon enough.

I bite my lip thinking about sinking my teeth deep into that heavenly meal. They feel extra sharp as they stab in. I ease up and refocus on the hunt, almost there.

*Ba-Dah Ba-Dah Ba-Dah*

Soothing like waves on a beach but invigorating as the deep bass in a club. I feel it rumbling my bones. Filling me up with the low beats, drawing me in with the highs and driving me absolutely mad.

*Clank!*

My eyes flick over to the active pumping station as it shudders to a stop. A man leaning on the wall of the machine strolls forward to retrieve the hose.

It's him. He's the mouth-watering scent, the irresistible pulsing.

I come to a screeching halt. It's abnormally difficult, my body is fighting me, screaming at me to jump his bones and rip him apart. I want nothing more than to pounce and dig my way to his crunchy center like a Tootsie pop.

I find I'm no longer locked in place, rather, sprinting for him, thinking about how many licks it will take. My whole body is yearning, squirming just to get one taste.

I *need* him. I must have him.

'NO!' I scream inwardly, skidding on my heels and throwing myself into a crouch. I squeeze my eyes tight and burrow my fingers into the asphalt which surprisingly gives way.

I hear him step over, click the handle of the hose into place.

'He's getting away!' I mourn the thought, tense and utterly distraught. Half of me jerks in his direction and the other digs deeper into the road.

The memory of the dead deer is a fresh deterrent. It's one thing if it's a wild animal but I'm not going to kill an actual person. 'Why is it taking him so damn long to get in his car?'

'Just a little, I would never kill someone. Just one… bite…' His blood is pounding in my ears, his musk burning my throat with its obvious emptiness. I feel my fingers ease and I'm ready to dart over.

The car door opens. I launch myself off the ground, speeding at him now. I see myself drowning gloriously in his rich innards and the imagery does not incite disgust.

'Every drop...'

The truth snaps me out of it. I somehow know, I won't stop. There's a piece of me that doesn't care if he lives or dies, it just wants his blood, all of it, no matter the cost.

'No! I won't do it!'

My feet have compulsive momentum so I steer myself away, slamming into the back of the machine. The aluminum cover sounds off with a metallic pop.

I feel the man jump in alarm as if I'm wearing his skin, hear him suck air. The car keys ting like a dinner bell as they strike pavement.

I squeeze my eyes shut, grinding my teeth together but it doesn't help. His heart is ramping to an extreme pounding, I hear it! I smash a palm to each ear and want to scream. No sound should be so glorious and so intolerable all at once. I feel the rapid thumping vibrating through my entire being and I yearn for it.

I force myself to freeze and lock in place, knowing if I move an inch, that guy is done for.

The seconds drag by painfully slow. I *smell* fear, actually smell it on him, the right amount of salt on sweet, mixing in with his life rhythm. It's all too exciting so I hold my breath. My muscles convulse as that *need* rages like a fire that's impossible to snuff out.

'Get in and leave. Get in and leave.' I chant silently over and over, trying to distract myself from the torment.

"Hey!" the man barks.

'Don't be stupid, just leave.' I beg internally, almost in tears. My hands are crushing into the sides of my head so hard it hurts, but it barely holds a candle to what that incessant heartbeat is doing to my sanity.

The pulse is throbbing, roaring like a furnace. I can see, feel the lively aura with my eyes shut. It feels like I'm slowly dying, as if my body is crushing in on itself all because I'm not breaking open one of his veins.

I don't know how much longer I can hold out, I'm losing to this unbridled urge.

It's as if the guy is stuck in slow motion, the keys scrape the ground as he stoops over for them. I sense his joints flex and bend. I want to cry out from misery and frustration! 'Why can't he just go? Damn him!'

*Ba-DAHH Ba-DAHH Ba-DAHH*

It's calling out to me like an angel's song, reaching for me with open arms. Hooking metal chains under my skin and pulling taut.

My eyes reel in despair, tears roll forward. I plead silently to whoever is listening to make him drive away. I can't take it anymore. The tighter I attempt to hold myself together the quicker I seem to slip away.