The treeline

I grasp at ideas, like sparks of light that float above a bonfire. I hold them tightly, desperately, in hopes of finding a solution. I feel their energy surge through me in a flicker of hope. I watch them turn to ash, as I realize it's only another futile concept. My mind is coming unraveled without her. In the beginning I wasn't sure how long I could resist confrontation with them. Now I'm not sure that I want to resist. Perhaps I would rather insist on confrontation, on conflict, on carnage. As I fed earlier tonight, I decided to continue my hunt on other prey. Not necessarily to feed, as I was filled from my first kill of the evening. I hunted and tracked, just for kill. I spotted my prey sitting about a hundred yards off. As I slowly moved in, I thought about the ones who attacked Derek a while ago. I thought about the ones at the airstrip. I stopped about thirty yards out from the unsuspecting victim and let my anger surge through my veins, letting out a thunderous roar. The "soon to be victim" peered up and fixed his gaze directly on me. He seemed to be contemplating or waiting further action on my part. As I clinched my fists and contorted into a "launching" position, like a runner at the starting line, my prey shook from his gaze. He quickly darted toward the nearest treeline. The ground shook beneath me as I took my first strides. As the adrenaline began pounding into my temples, I accelerated further. I was closing in quickly. The exhausted prey running off pure adrenaline, slowly decelerated and quickly glanced back at his attacker. He was several feet from the treeline. Once inside, he could hide in one of countless places. How close he had come to being my sacrifice. He had underestimated me. As he glanced back at me, I leaped forward. He had just enough time to resume his position toward the treeline, before my fingertips came from behind and grasped his fragile throat. I squeezed as my body's momentum brought me ever-closer to him. I squeezed harder still as my salivating fangs, made themselves known to his flesh. Both our hearts beat infinite times in that moment, as my gums and my tongue and the roof of my palate, felt his warm vitality flow forth. I gripped him tighter as his body twisted and jerked in an attempt to flee. My right forefinger tore through the side of his spine as I grasped and bit and tore in a rage and fit of adrenaline, anger and testosterone. Just beyond the treeline, his female and offspring, watched in horror. I had caught a glimpse of them all, just before making contact with the "now deceased". As I stood feeding off his twitching carcass, I expected my humanity to over-ride my crazed fit and deliver unmeasurable remorse...but nothing. The flow of testosterone weakened into waves and as they came and went, I felt no remorse, no regret, only hungrier for more. I viewed the family, frozen in petrification. I looked each of them in the eye, then while viewing them all and having their paternal figure limp in my teeth, I let out a low grumble. The family shot through the forest and into the darkness. This was the first time in a while, I hadn't felt like "the victim". I felt powerful...not because I had made the kill, but because I wasn't running. I wasn't hiding. I was the aggressor...the harbinger. Was this going to make me feel better about what happened at the airstrip...NO! ...But it might be a step in the right direction.