Hunger

The man staggered slowly to the house. It was dusk, but the shade of the trees made it seem like night. He had walked for miles, weighed down by the innards he had just gorged upon.

As he stumbled shakily out of the dense woods, the remaining sunlight shone on his face, causing him to wince. The gelled red guts oozed slowly down his chin. He pressed on. The house was only 100 feet away now, but the slowed pacing made the distance seem much further.

Through the kitchen window, he saw her. She was preparing supper on the counter, back turned to him. He quickened his step, a glint in his eye now. As he approached the door, he wiped his slick hands thoroughly on his shirt, leaving a slimy wet film of red.

The door was unlocked, and he walked in unnoticed. The woman did not hear him come in over the radio, and her gaze remained fixed on the supper she was preparing. With the scent of fresh meat filling his nostrils, he grew instantly hungry, despite his recent feeding.

The music drowned out his shuffling footsteps as he made his way to the kitchen. Only fifteen feet from her now. Ten. Five…

The woman turned from the turkey she had been carving. Her eyes widened in shock at the sight of him. Dried crusty flakes of red and purple dotted his pale face, while thick wet chunks of insides still surrounded his lips. The man grabbed her by the waist, leaning in forcefully right towards her face…

"Oh no you don't!" yelled the woman, giggling. "Looks like you had a hell of a time at the pie-eating contest, but you're not getting a kiss from me until you clean up!"