Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.
My feet slap the pavement, my breath leaving clouds floating behind me.
Cold air and blood shooting down my throat, catching my lungs.
Bloodied hands trying furiously to keep my shaking legs pumping.
My eyes leak tears, for the lives I will no doubtably take.
The morphing irisis find the veins on my arm, swelling with redness.
I didn't want to lose my memories.
That was the one thing I was most afraid of losing, even before my life.
But nevertheless I can feel them pounding, trying as best they can to stay with me.
It doesn't work.
The numbness of death captures my senses, everything is a blur.
I finally stop.
Skin starts flaking, hair starts drying, heart starts slowing.
A gurgling, lifeless moan escapes my cracked lips.
What am I now?
I have no life, no memories, no purpose.
Only a sudden, insatiable craving for flesh and blood.
To make up for my own.
. . . . . .