Haunted - Chapter 2
I apologize that it took so long to come out, but here's the second chapter. I've become frightfully busy, so I can't promise anything about when my stories will continue. Thank you for your patience. If you would, please leave a comment. Thank you.
That morning, as I rested under a pile of soil and brush, Alex went to work. When he left the sun wasn't even up yet, just slowly crowning into the cold night sky. After Alex left to work, Mila tossed and turned, her body getting caught up in the blankets and her hair getting tangled in itself. I watched her for hours, like a bird watching an unsuspecting worm. As I knew she would, Mila didn't wake up to her alarm. Why she set it I wasn't quite sure, but it did tell me that it was exactly 6. Now, knowing what time it is, doesn't seem like it would really matter, but I've found it tells me what she's going to do next. An easily followable pattern. They're making it easier and easier for me to eat...
When her alarm blares at 6 she will spend one more hour sleeping. And just like the colors light the sky in a slow coordinated matter, so does Mila move in her sleep. After her alarm sounds, she moves in planned movements, and whether she knows she is moving like this in her sleep is still unclear. When Mila was young she took ballet, prancing about in a timed and graceful way. This is how she moved... she danced.
Mila awoke after her third attempted spin lying down, just like the day before. She sauntered into her bathroom and looked at her messiness in the mirror and I admired seeing two of my favorite meal, looking at each other in the same way and moving in the same ways... it made my mouth water.
As Mila made her way to the kitchen, she tripped on something, cussing out into the empty morning air. She arose and kicked whatever she fell upon, her anger radiating off her skin. When Mila got mad she got furious, looking as if she would gladly take a knife to whatever made her upset. I blame Alex for this, but also feel I should reward him. I never do like my meals cowering, I like a little bit of a fight. Of course none of my delectable meals ever got away, but I found great pleasure in the struggle.
Mila prepared herself a bowl of cereal and rested herself in front of the television, watching cartoons. I found this one of the more lovely things about her, her sitting. Others would move too much, making it hard to plan just how I could consume them, then compose a plan to get rid of the mangled body. That was a hassle, seeing as I had but a few seconds before I pounced and dragged them away into the darkness, my darkness. But Mila was different, she needed more time. And Mila was a good girl, she sat without even being told.
I knew that I would have to rest myself soon, daytime was the best time for the stillness covered me in a veil of protection of being noticed. One last time, Mila put the spoon to her lips and I purred a good day to her. She shivered and turned around, giving me the blessing of one last glance into her gray eyes. I took one more deep breath, the faint smell of her sweetness filling my insides as I softly closed my eyes... the eyes that haunt me just as I haunt my beautiful Mila...
When her alarm blares at 6 she will spend one more hour sleeping. And just like the colors light the sky in a slow coordinated matter, so does Mila move in her sleep. After her alarm sounds, she moves in planned movements, and whether she knows she is moving like this in her sleep is still unclear. When Mila was young she took ballet, prancing about in a timed and graceful way. This is how she moved... she danced.
Mila awoke after her third attempted spin lying down, just like the day before. She sauntered into her bathroom and looked at her messiness in the mirror and I admired seeing two of my favorite meal, looking at each other in the same way and moving in the same ways... it made my mouth water.
As Mila made her way to the kitchen, she tripped on something, cussing out into the empty morning air. She arose and kicked whatever she fell upon, her anger radiating off her skin. When Mila got mad she got furious, looking as if she would gladly take a knife to whatever made her upset. I blame Alex for this, but also feel I should reward him. I never do like my meals cowering, I like a little bit of a fight. Of course none of my delectable meals ever got away, but I found great pleasure in the struggle.
Mila prepared herself a bowl of cereal and rested herself in front of the television, watching cartoons. I found this one of the more lovely things about her, her sitting. Others would move too much, making it hard to plan just how I could consume them, then compose a plan to get rid of the mangled body. That was a hassle, seeing as I had but a few seconds before I pounced and dragged them away into the darkness, my darkness. But Mila was different, she needed more time. And Mila was a good girl, she sat without even being told.
I knew that I would have to rest myself soon, daytime was the best time for the stillness covered me in a veil of protection of being noticed. One last time, Mila put the spoon to her lips and I purred a good day to her. She shivered and turned around, giving me the blessing of one last glance into her gray eyes. I took one more deep breath, the faint smell of her sweetness filling my insides as I softly closed my eyes... the eyes that haunt me just as I haunt my beautiful Mila...
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