There is a Beast that lurks my basement. I can never truly see what it looks like. All I can see is what it does. Every so often, I have to lure some poor, and many a times gullible soul down the basement with whatever reason comes to mind so that this hideous Beast can be fed. It only wants the flesh of people; animals can't satisfy its hunger. I am its keeper in secrecy, in restraint, and in damnation. I have to make sure that this monstrous Beast stays hidden within the recesses of this bloody basement suited for a butcher else I suffer the consequences – the crime of having to feed such a creature! Despicable they would say. But who are they to judge? Would they not do the same if they were in my predicament? What has to be done must be done. The Beast makes its home here and it is to be fed. When I'm cleaning up after it, I often note the atrocity of having such a burden. When I do realize the full extent of what I had done, I usually walk away, sprint away, race through the stairs as fast as I can and lock the doors that seal the Beast, away from its sanctuary of stench and sin and escape to a place where I can be human.



The Beast's demands can be complicated to satisfy. All it wants is to savor the metallic wine that courses through life and the scarlet flesh within. It is not an easy task. I have to be careful not to be caught – if I do, the Beast will not be fed. The Beast must not go unfed at all cost. It whispers that fact to me every so often. If I allow it to starve, the influence, the iron-grip it has on my mind with its cruel intents will destroy me from within.



My evening is set for a date. I have found that it is an efficient way to find strangers that can satisfy the Beast’s hunger. Man or woman, the Beast does not discriminate. The only real difference between the two is the amount of flesh for my monster to devour. And in this particular “hunting season”, it is a man. His name is Ed… Ed, Ed, Ed. What use would his name be to me except in prayers of gratitude for keeping the Beast fed and satisfied? His words entered one ear and exited the other. I paid very little attention to him, with the exception of the fact that he had large, large arms. Arms that might hurt the Beast in a struggle; arms that will keep it satisfied for days a time, chewing on the hardened muscles like one would chew on a beef jerky, enjoying its resistance with every gnaw. The Beast would find it most fulfilling.



The wait is killing me. My watch vibrates with its every movement, forcing my skin to be my ears, to become aware of its presence. Tick, tock. Time is not flashing by. Tick, tock. The Beast is hungry, won’t wretched time hurry? Tick, tock...



Externally, the ride home may have seem casual and warm but conflict raged within me. Some doubts were forming but this task had to be done. I promised myself that I would break free from this ghastly way of life during my last “errand.” Without a doubt, I failed my resolution. Inside my home, my mind raced. Finally! I had to choose my words carefully. This man was not unintelligent. One wrong word, one wrong vibe could set me back another night. I cannot allow the Beast to go unfed. I asked him to join me down the basement and told him I wanted him to pick out what wine we were to drink. I already knew what wine was to be drunk tonight. I let him go first. The less he saw demise coming, the better. I paced behind him as he went down the stairs. The sounds of shoes tapping against the hard wood of the stairs synced with my heartbeats. I knew the moment I've been waiting for was coming. Half-way through, I pushed him. It happened too fast for him to do anything. He stumbled, painfully. His forehead was bleeding. I hit his head with a bottle. Sleep well.



Poor, poor man. Who deserved this? Tied up, beaten and bloody, not knowing where he was. Surely, he was someone’s child. He had a mother and a father who would never know what happened, if their son was still living or not. Did he have siblings and many friends? Did he have children? Was I about to make a child somewhere fatherless? Would anyone cry for Ed at night, wondering where he is? Then again, it didn’t matter. There was no turning back. I put a tape over his mouth – I didn't like hearing the screams nor did I think my neighbors would appreciate it. His lack of voice didn't really matter because all the fear his mind ever mustered about death showed, twinkled, and begged in his eyes. Those big, watery eyes. They pleaded for mercy that would never come. It was time. His muffled scream echoed in the basement when I bit off his ear. The cannibalistic Beast was loose once again.