I've been wanting to write this for a while. I'll start off small to see if anyone likes it. _________________________________________________________________ It's not new. I do it everyday. It's part of life. My life. Death was natural right? Really I was just bringing it a little early. Putting them out of their misery. At least that's what I believed. For years I didn't think I was hurting them. It wasn't until I was 12 that I began to question if it was right. We killed people day after day. Taking them from the shadows. Ripping their flesh apart. Eating their insides. They tried to fight back, they tried to escape, but it was no use. They had no chance. My parents always said that it was how we survived. I just couldn't believe that. Once I even refused to go on the hunt. Only minutes after they left did I begin to feel nauseated. I quickly spread my wings and flew as fast as I could after them. What am I? Heh, I don't know. I've asked myself that for years. I guess you could call me... The child of Satan. _________________________________________________________________
