Forbidden License to Bite

Sometimes I am asked by individuals if the following account is true. My only response isa forced faint smile. After all, it is they who will register it into theirconsciousness, and in the end, they will believe what they wish to believe. Itis that special mysterious human process we all possess. I cannot make thatpersonal decision for them. Their decision becomes their truth to them--andmine is mine…...

Winter is not my season and killing is not my thing but I realize that each exists and each will have its time in this world. In certain times and certain places, certain inexplicable events can transpire—events that are counter to our beliefs and defy what we believe is logical. Through no choice of our own we are sometimes drawn to negative worldly forces that we have no desire to align our souls with—and then we are forced to participate in events counter to the fiber that creates our being. Then we must deal with them with whatever means are necessary. 

 And so it was with me. This is my story, John McFarland, an ordinary man—until I met her. It’s about me—and her.

I could get under the covers with her and taste her, smell her, feel her, and experience her full womanhood. She was sweet, she was soft, she was loving—but some might say she was evil……

~~~~

I remember that day. It wasn’t long ago. I shivered ever so slightly even in the light of the late afternoon sun as I reached the old rusty broken red side door. Icicles that were hanging down over the old metal warehouse door cracked loudly and fell at my feet when I yanked on the handle and pulled it open. Inside the old empty warehouse, the rays of the setting sun, fighting to make their way through haze covered long rectangular windows near the roof, revealed a huge empty structure, awaiting either destruction or reincarnation into another life.

A large empty structure devoid of the people and activity that once made it useful can generate an uncanny presence. Scaffolding erected for day workers to make roof repairs was the only sign of recent activity. Scattered dimly lit incandescent bulbs along the walls provided an eerie light, casting ominous long shadows from the columns and beams that formed the skeleton of the structure. Once a busy sturdy structure, its only immediate function now was as a final meeting place for one hunter and one hunted. I wondered which one I would be. A rusty steel mezzanine on one side of the building was lined with small offices. All were dark save for one at the end, which had a pale yellow light shining through its window. It was my reluctant destination.

This decrepit structure seemed like a highly inappropriate place in which a thing of beauty would have to die, but she had chosen the place, not I, and I would do what I had to do to finally bring it to an end. Beauty is not a substitute for humanity and no being can truly live and love without its humanity.