The Blight

Bones snapping under pressure. 

Gnashing of teeth. Sinking deep into its still warm prey.

Tearing out chunks of wet flesh. The rich, coppery tang coating their tongues. Sendings bolts of pleasure down their spines. 

The tendrils wriggled up from their throats, searching for another host to breed in. 

Fingers digging, ripping, wrenching meat from bones and bring the chunks to their mouths. 

Breaking, smashing, cleaving bones with craggy teeth.

So hungry. They were so very hungry. 

They wanted. They needed more. The Rot in their bodies demanded it. 

The body had grown cold, the blood no longer rich, the meat now tainted and soured. 

They released a whine of frustration. 

Tearing out chunks of hair from their heads. Their jagged nails gouging gorges into their arms.  

More.

More. 

MORE!

The Rot squeal like a spoiled child. 

"Lettie?" That sculant scent of fear. The trilled beat of a living heart. 

Their mouth waters. Bones yanking and cracking; their necks snapping in the direction of the noise. 

There was a scream, than the pounding of feet on the stairs. 

The Rot writhed in pure joy at the thrill of the chase and the passenger forced them to their feet.