"My Feast" by shinchansgirl

Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairings: none
Rating: PG






I don't know what you've heard about us, and, to be honest, I don't want to. I know what they say; I know what they think. I can see it in every soul I feast on.

I was born from pain. It eats at my very being and tears my mind apart. It never leaves me, this pain. It's constant. The only way to relieve it is to feed. It's been said before by many I feast on: food is the ultimate cure-all.

It is true that we cause decay and despair, causing the places we live in to be the filthiest, most gruesome, loathsome places in the world. We did not choose this; it is merely an after-affect of living. Because we feed on the happiness - hope, joy, heat, energy - of every living thing around us (and some non-living), there is nothing but fear and despair, the worst memories of their short lives, left when we are through. If you are lucky, after our touch you will be born as one of us. This will only happen, though, after what seems like countless years of unbroken insanity, despair, and pain�if the humans let you live that long. If you're not...you remain insane. Forever.

I look cruel and uncaring, and, in truth, I am. My breath grates and rattles as I try to breathe as I once did - like a human - through the pain that never leaves me completely. My skin is scabbed and grey, covered in slime from the oils in my body made cold by the air around me - air I have feasted on, and taken heat from - all this is from my once-human body, atrophied and decayed by malnutrition. I am ugly. I am an animal. I live only to feed, and feed only to live. I know I cause death and destruction in my wake. Once this would have bothered me.

Now I no longer care.

THE END.

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