Monday, May 4, 2015

FICTION: Tin Roof Reminiscence

Tin Roof Reminiscence

You love the sound of rain falling on a tin roof. The rain is brought by clouds. The clouds, more often than not, bring the murk with them and overshadow the world. And in the shadow you can see. You can smell. You can feel.

And the sound of the rain brings back such strong memories, as fresh to you as if they were of yesterday’s events. You remember chasing after the Game, and the sound of their footfall on concrete and grass as you pursued them. The pleasure that came with their fear as they struggled to see through the downpour that was around them.

Two of them went to ground in a place like this one, with an old tin roof over the porch. Their ramshackle, an abandoned place where they could live and hide. But they found it hard to hear you over the rain. They could not see you, either. You held back far enough that the heavy rain masked your presence.

You could track them by the richness of their scent, the texture that their fear gave to it. You were never in any danger of losing them, not even in the rain. No, not when whole world around you was being given such color and every sound was made a symphony.

And then they and you came upon their hideout. You quickened your pace and shed all intentions of stealth so that they would hear your claws on the pavement. You shrieked for them, all so that they would know and their fear would become that much greater.

You came down upon them between the steps and the front door. You crippled one, slicing the hamstrings of its legs so that it could not walk and then you struck the other. In a single movement you impaled it with the claws of your killing hand, sticking it to the short wooden railing.

You should have waited. You had found the place where they took shelter in the night. You should have called upon the rest of your band and waited until their kin had also come here, but you were so hungry. You were selfish. You could have waited but you wanted them now (you wanted them the two of them to yourself).

And so you did. Slowly, savoring every moment of it, you ate them both, and their fear gave such a wonderful essence to the sound of their screaming and the pitter-patter of the water-drops that were falling all about you.

You love the sound of rain falling on a tin roof. Oh, the memories that it brings back to you...

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