Except from The Ghoul
Decaying. Rotting. I can feel it happening every moment of every day. They all think they know me, but they don’t. It’s only a matter of time…only a matter of time. I look into the faces of people around me. If they only knew who I am—what I am—they’d run screaming. I definitely feel like screaming right now. The sign over my head reads “Whole Foods.” I try my hardest not to let out a laugh. Consumerism! It’s the only thing worse than being dead.
The irony kills me. They flock to this building from all around like food only comes from the grocery store, and they seem to forget that food’s all around them. I scan my surroundings, eye a few sumptuous morsels, and start to salivate; only I’m not looking at the veggies. A couple of teenagers with smooth, silky, tender skin come within arm’s length of me and it’s all I can do to restrain myself. Look at them. Their hats. Their skateboards. Their mind-numbing conversations. They’ve never been closer to death and they don’t even realize it. They’re all just sacks of meat.
But sadly, I’m not here for them. One day I will be, though…soon.
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