The soft down on your collar gives you away every time. The way your nails skritch on the keys of your computer. How you can read a sign from across the room. And the preening. Your teeth have already begun to bind together, and curve. You can’t hide who you are anymore.
And if you could, what good would it do you? Could you hide from yourself? You are condemned to feed and hunt. Your thirst for flight and blood dictates your every move. This is the story of Prometheus, only you are the one who is eating his entrails.
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Title by: William P. Bottensworth
Story by: Jeremy
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