Hunger. The hunger woke me, prodded me. The hunger for another. I am empty again. What happened? How did I get here? I don't recall. It seems I just appeared, began to exist, on this very spot. Did I come here? Was I left? Who would leave me here? Am I unpleasant? Why can't I remember? Maybe-- wait...
Who am I?
How can I not remember that? My own name! Do I have one? I don't understand. Am I... alive? I don't feel it. I don't feel the wind, or the rain. No, what is my name! What! Can I not be offered the consolation of being able to recognize myself? Or is it some trial of cruel taxation? What is my name! Someone tell me! But wait. There's no-one here. Why do I hear voices? There's no one around me. I'm on a rock. No...not a rock. A building. Of concrete. How high? Let's look. Oh. I can hardly see the bottom. Maybe it's the darkness. No, it's the height. What of the voices? They are different. There's a man's. A woman's. A scream. A memory? A vision? No, a victim. A victim of the hunger. Why is this? Why do I... the hunger. I need to eat. But how do I get down. I'm not a bird. I can't fly. How did I even...no, must eat. It's torturing me, I need to... ARGHHH! The side, the wall. Climb down. Claws.
Wait. Claws? Do people have claws? No. Do I? It seems I don't—wait, here they come. Oh, the tingling, they are forming. Claws. Climb down. Eat.
I am at the bottom. It is still raining. A puddle grows at my feet, my claws still tingling. There is light here, from a lamp. Many lamps. People. Humans. Eat. I need one. Just beckon. Here he comes. He has a vest, long pants, and a hood. He is cautious. He should be. Not much longer now. He comes close. He sees me, my form. He screams. Ah, food. I feel him inside me. Another voice. The screaming. I can't block it out. No one hears him, hears me. I am alone. But now, what's this? The tingling again, all over, my claws shorten, become fingers. My head points out. I have a nose. A split forms. A mouth. Am I human now? No, still the voices, and inside me, I can feel the hunger, waiting for another occasion. The man's blood flows around me, and I soak it up. A woman walks by, sees me. No, sees him. His form. The little blood remaining begins to coagulate.
"Arr eoo hert?" it sounds like. I don't know how to react.
"Hoo arr eoo?" says another, standing next to her.
I wish I knew. I wish I could say, and be helped. But I had no answer. Maybe the voices could tell me. I concentrate, closing my eyes, willing my consciousness to organize itself. The new one told me his name, and his recent past. Nothing more. I wish I could take that as my name. The only answer I have is myself. I show them. More screams. I try to walk toward them, they run. When I walk out to follow them, everyone sees. The whole street is deafening. I don't notice. Eat. I consume everything around me, but there are still more.
A feast.