Crumbling

A wretched thing was found tonight
In a weald not far from here
An item which held a life of its own
But lacked a shape to show its life

It was green and minuscule, but the finder knew something
About the way that it held no mouth, no teeth to speak
But still told him that it hungered
He had heard of this and knew it should be left
Yet he took it home to study

“The thing should feed,” He told himself
“It won’t last long if it doesn’t.”
Yet he knew it was wrong
The formless creature shouldn’t have an eye
and the eye shouldn’t have fangs

The item grew to the size of a toddler, at least
Its eye was wide and bared its teeth
Another eye wasw growing on its back, behind the first
The man could tell the more it grew, the more that it would feast
With or withour his help, the thing would grow
The thing would hunt and consume

It ate his cat whole with a single look
The kitten was gone, the man saw it all
He held his head in shame. He couldn’t face the town
The man must have known what he was doing
For a crumbling could be heard coming from behind the eye

Author: Kay Walker

I write short stories, and post them to my site justmynarratives.com

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