by Michael J. Solender
She knew hunger, it enraged her, the lust for what up until moments ago, tore at her belly with vengeance. It was not sustenance that she yearned for as much as feeding her other, more latent desire. She made her move in one seamless transaction, suddenly jerking her forearm across his thorax, his windpipe snapping like a stale pretzel. He went down to his knees gasping wildly for breath. Her lips on his next, he may have thought she was trying to breathe life back into his lungs, his tongue warm, wet and tasting of steely blood severed neatly with her bite. He never tasted so good.
Michael J. Solender is a corporate refugee and freelance writer based in Charlotte, North Carolina. He writes a weekly Neighborhoods column for the Charlotte Observer and blogs here.