1. Stranded.
Serengeti—Tanzania
A silver crescent moon hangs beautifully like a lethal razor-sharp claw in a dark sky, around it, millions of stars glimmer harmoniously, certain to captivate any gaze that’d behold the picturesque sight. A light breeze whispers through the sea of trees beneath, prompting the woodland to come to life with soft rustles which with every thawing second, become aggressive with the growing gust that sweeps the bowing acacian heaven together with the blowing mix of dust and dry leaves in the sandy ground.
Slowly, a thin layer of clouds drifts over, bringing with it a chilling gloom that threatens the once warm stunning night for not only does it conceal the twinkling glitters, but also, instead of the magnificent silver claw, an ethereal glow claims its spot as it’s completely masked by the gathering, seemingly swirling cumulus genera. Consequently, the dusky blanket casts long shadows to the murky ground tinged with cinders of dust rising almost three feet into the air and a brewing tumult of raging wind like eerie deranged fingers out to grab the rustling vegetation, making the vast land as pitch-black as death.
Just like that, the once warm beautiful night is no more.
Suddenly, a scintillating flare slices through the storming gloom, unleashing terawatts of violence onto the ground, striking a tree in the process that explodes with branched lightning flame in time with an ear-piercing boom that shakes the ground. Right beneath the burning tree, the ongoing blowing wind forms a dark vortex—its powerful rotation almost knocking the surrounding trees off their roots.
A strong-looking silhouette walks through the storming whirlwind, in its robust arms, I lay protected, yet not entirely as fine as I ought to be. I struggle to catch my breath, my nose wrinkling at the foreign onslaught of air that infiltrates my senses, making me hold onto the powerful frame that envelops me even harder, sinking myself further into the warm embrace and burying my frowning face against the still meteor chest.
We gradually stop, and I'm slowly lowered to the ground where I whimper at the first contact I make with the dirt floor, my trembling hands clutch the dark fabric around his neck as I weakly shake my head in protest.
“Let go.” An authoritative baritone hisses, prompting my face to slightly withdraw and peer up, my pleading gaze clashing with an identical pair of silver orbs that are cold and malicious. But I know better.
My vision blurs, my nose flares as I force the lump that chokes my throat down, my hands stubbornly clutching onto his robe regardless of his warning. I shake my head, furiously, beads of sheer anguish finally streaming down my face.
"Pathetic!” he spits, glaring down at me.
I choke a sob, my heart tightening against my chest. Pursing my lips, I shake my head, regardless of knowing the severity of my actions. I can't. I can't let go.
How can I ever?
“You leave me no choice..” he snarls, then grabs the sides of my head with his big hands, causing my eyes to widen in horror.
“Dad... No!!” I cry in protest but it's too late, he's in a hurry, he's got no time to spare. A familiar flash crosses his indifferent face, an expression that I hurriedly imprint deep in my tumbling heart that’s dipping into my stomach as an unwelcomed flare pierces through my mind. I try to shake my head, begging for him to stop, but he firmly holds me in place, burning everything that makes the bridge between us strong, taking away everything that I've ever known. "Please..” I whimper, but the more I fight, the more he mines what's available.
Slowly, I let go, blinking as I take in a face that grows painfully unfamiliar with each passing second. My gaze lingers at the thick horns protruding from his temples, his strong jaw clenches as he keeps taking what rightly belongs to me until there is nothing left.
Finally, my hands collapse onto the ground and he releases me, watching a slight frown forming on my face as I watch him curiously. I almost flinch at the sudden movement of his hand, brushing my wavy curls behind my ear before he rises to his feet to regard me one last time.
Something within me claws for me to wrap my hands around his limbs, and beg him to stay with me, but my body remains rooted on the ground and I only stare, as if in a trance.
“This is your new home, stay.” He orders, his tone as cold as his eyes.
He turns around and starts towards a dark vortex before us, his dark robe sweeping the ground behind him, his strides graceful and strong. The raging luminous flames engulfing the host tree light up the forest around us, it's almost burning into ashes, provoked by the powerful storm. I try to rise, but my body tenses as a sharp searing pain grips my joints and muscles.
I bloody hurt.
He briefly halts on his tracks, almost crossing over the whirling portal, and turns, his silver gaze meeting mine. "Feed and Heal,” he orders, and in a blink of an eye, he's gone. And so is the vortex.
The blowing wind around me slowly starts to calm, and I take my time to scan my surroundings, taking everything in with utter confusion.
Where am I?
I stare down at my bare self, slightly shivering at the blowing wind that pricks my skin.
Feed and Heal.
I blink, staring at space for a brief moment. And how do I do that? Here, in the middle of nowhere.
With a sigh, I scramble onto my knees and will my aching body to stand, but I crash back down due to my shaking weak limbs.
Curses! I'm too weak.
Groaning, I channel the remaining strength I have and start moving, crawling like a newborn kid toward a nearby tree. My body is a trembling mess due to lack of energy, I feel drained and utterly famished.
The wind simmers into gentle whispers that blow my hair back when I finally reach for a nearby tree and hug it with all of my might whilst working on my wobbling legs, forcing them to carry my weight as I find support on the thick bark.
Rising on my feet, I hold on for a few more minutes, building on the strength I'll need to move on my own. I cast my searching gaze around as I wait, noting there's nothing but trees stretching for miles and distant dark hills. I can sense wildlife, their essence lingering in the air, not old but not new either; they often tread this place, I gather.
I face up, staring at the dark sky and the looming clouds around, it's as if they sense my presence and they're there to give me the company I never asked for.
I shift my gaze back to my surroundings and slowly push away from the tree, trudging to where my instincts guide me to. Something tells me this is going to be a long walk, the earlier I start, the better.
I walk.
I trek.
I let my legs take me further, gaining miles on my way to nowhere in particular. There is only one thing in my head, and the familiar voice keeps echoing inside my head over and over again.
Feed and Heal.
Feed and Heal.
If I want to survive. If I want this pain and weakness gone, I feel that's what I'm supposed to do. How? I'll let nature take its course.
Coming to an abrupt halt, my breath hitches in my throat while my eyes take in a distant smoke in between thicker taller trees. I can almost see a weak flare glimmering in between, contrasting the reigning gloom.
A camp?
I push forward, feeling a new jolt striking my dormant strength back to life. I trek faster through the trees, my feet constantly crashing the dry twigs and leaves beneath me along the way. The voice fuels my anticipation that bubbles with every step I take as I approach the unknown.
No, scratch that.
I can feel it, the nearer I get, the stronger it gets. Life. Fresh life.
An inward rumble, almost animalistic vibrates within my heaving chest. I wish I knew why this excites me. The night gloom feels attached to me, the eerie shadows coil around me like bees swarming after their queen.
Faster, I tread in the illuminating direction, and before I know it, I break through a thick line of trees and stop, my eyes curiously taking in the tents surrounding the massive clearing circle. A few acacia trees scatter around enough to create shadows of some sort, there are large built-up tents that pass as common rooms for the public—one that captures my eye, is adorned with lush armchairs surrounding white-clothed tables with some kind of silverware on top. Beneath each table, I notice brown rugs that match the softwood floor, elegantly pulled-back curtains round the entire open tent, and rustic chandeliers holding burning candles create an alluring dazzle to the area.
Antique oil lamps are placed on the floor outside, in some tents, they dangle on lamp posts. They scatter in the paved ground, lighting the way throughout the site, to where I stand, at the main entrance I suppose, for before me stands a log framed post with words painted over a wood board for everyone to see.
Ole Serai Luxury Camps.
I pass through the logged entryway and follow the paved way; the grass on each side is as dry as dust, I reckon it's pretty sunny during day time.
Nobody seems to be outside, and I take its way past midnight and the weather isn't as charming.
I gulp, draining my flooding mouth. I clench my hands into tight fists, fighting back an exciting shiver. The sleeping tents are further scattered metres ahead, each a tad further from another, and the sight pleases me.
Moments forward, I stroll into a cozy glamping tent and stop a few paces inside, my gaze landing on a sleeping figure on a Queen-sized bed in the middle of the room, snug in a soft-looking duvet like a bug in a rug, content and peaceful, far in a dream that's rather... interesting.
I take a whiff, and almost purr at the scent lingering in the air, I swallow some more as I stalk closer, taking in some more.
Guilt-filled arousal.
His frame rises and falls steadily as he dreams away, a small smile pulling at the side of his lips. He's a tan fellow, tall enough, a bit to the lean side, but not bad-looking for his own good. Dark hair is roughly ruffled by constant tossing and turning, dark brows and long dark lashes adorn his deep-set eyes; a layer of sweat adorns his temples, the back of his neck, and his arms, regardless of a fan nearby roaring on its highest speed, blowing everything inside.
“Daisy..” he mumbles, more like a husky moan, and a picture materializes before me.
A slight-chubby chocolate-skinned woman, her frizzy locks ironed straight to her upper back, curtaining her pretty round face and big round brown eyes.
An innocent-looking pretty thing, really.
Always kind, always smiling whilst her killer hips give him a raging hard-on—a painful torture that he suffers in silence, for he knows, she can never be his. She's an alluring forbidden fruit.
His best friend’s wife.
He grunts, humming his pleasure as she reciprocates his feelings, kissing him, touching him. He's going to wake up exasperated for sure.
I crouch, slowly, reaching for his blanket and pulling it off. He squirms, but he's too far to wake, he doesn't want to.
Finally ripping the duvet away, I briefly study his almost bare body, exposed. Inhaling, I groan, trembling in sheer excitement.
Feed.
I crawl up, feeling my sheen changing, growing darker, my long hair regressing, my frame stretching, taking a different form. I lightly move up, settling onto his throbbing bulge that's ready to rip through his thin briefs. Disregarding the dampness I feel against my folds, his bleeding arousal for a woman who might be feeling the same but is too ashamed to make the first move, I lean closer to his face and press a soft lingering peck on his slightly parted lips.
That seems to stir him from his sleep, and he almost jolts up but my hands on his chest hold him down—he’s ready to struggle now.
“James..” I whisper, my new voice as smooth as silk, implying sexual desire the way an alto sax implies jazz.
He suddenly stiffens like a lawn chair, a tense all I can eat platter narrows his eyes up at me, before they widen in shock, utterly bewildered by the surprise straddling him, looking down at him with hooded, seductive eyes.
“Daisy?” he frowns, his heartbeats picking up, "How—?”
Interrupting him, I crash my lips onto his, hungrily claiming him with a soft rock of my hips.
“Oh my God..” he moans against my lips, succumbing to his unquenched desires, his tongue seeks mine with urgency, and his arms instantly fly around me, pulling me against him like I'd disappear into thin air at any moment.
He groans, heaving as a burning fervour envelops him. He rolls his hips against mine, grounding his rock-hard erection against my core and I gift him a soft moan that invigorates him, eliciting what I've been after all this time.
I can feel it, I can taste it on the tip of my tongue, making me shudder deliriously. I let him dominate the kiss, sweeping and sucking my tongue with a carnal thirst while I inhale, welcoming the fulfilling hum that surges through me, setting my body alight with sweet energy.
“Yes..” I moan, grinding myself even harder against him, taking more and more that I fail to notice his weakening state.
Now, for the best part..
I can feel my nose elongating, my face changing, my skin prickling, my lips drying. He pulls back with a slight frown, and I watch his lustful gaze turn into that of pure horror.
“Hags deserve young cocks too, James..” A cackle-like dry voice replaces my once smooth melody, matching horrendously with my dry wrinkling skin, my beady eyes, and my deranged pimpled old face. I might have a rotten cavity and death breath, this feels like it does the trick every time, pure passion bores me.
He screams, eyes wide like saucers, but he's too weak to push me away, and I laugh, inhaling more of his glowing essence, bluish thick strands swim into my nose and open mouth, delectable fear, and terror I taste; there is no time to be baffled, adrenaline pumps so hard to let him care less about perplexion.
Before I know it, there is nothing left but a shell. Grey, stiff like a rock, he looks up at me, his dark eyes void, lacking a soul I had little fun devouring.
Feed.
I want more.
I sense quick steps approaching the tent, and I hurriedly remove myself from the bed. Seconds forward, a busty brunette runs in, her dark eyes searching the dim-lighted tent before settling on the bed, widening.
An ear-piercing scream leaves her, especially the moment she notices a naked hag with saggy tits stalking her way with a wicked snarl. Before she can spin and bolt, my clawed hand slashes through the air, knocking the air out of her as she collides to the floor, the side of her face red with crimson fluid pricking from evident claw marks.
Her hand flies to her bruised cheek, heavily panting while her glassy eyes flare in my direction, bulging in horror as she watches me approach her.
“No... NO... HELP!!” she scurries back in hopes of creating space between us, but she doesn't get far.
Seconds forward, she dangles by her neck in my tight grip, kicking furiously, gurgling miserably as I take what's mine—her sparkling purple strands invigorate me.
It doesn't take time and she hits the floor, limp, dark grey, hollow, and stiff like a mummy.
Something within me stirs happily and my body hums deliciously that I moan. The pain in my joints is still there, but not as excruciating as before, my muscles are bearable.
But I'm still famished.
More feet run my way, and that seems to provoke a smile.
I'm famished and I don't think I can stop. Whatever I am, I'm damned.
This can never be my home.
