hungry | Gregory M. Fox

The wolf was hungry. That was why it had come to the village. The blood of lambs was dripping from its jaws when the men found it. “Horrible,” they said, “monstrous, repulsive.” Razor sharp teeth cut through flesh.

“Perhaps,” one among them whispered, “we could use this beast.” The men were hungry too.

A wolf is an excellent hunter, savage and relentless. With this beast at their side, the men brought home wild boars and mighty stags. The village held bounteous feasts with these spoils, though the best portion always went to the wolf first. The wolf was hungry.

And winter came. The wild game grew scarce, and the wolf grew lean. The wolf grew vicious. They slaughtered livestock to keep the hungry beast from turning on them, but they couldn’t sacrifice it all. “Perhaps,” one among them whispered, “the village across the river.”

No one in the other town was prepared for an attack. For the wolf. Beasts don’t fight like men. A wolf goes for the throat. The men returned home victorious. They came home scared. They led the captured herds before them, following a hungry wolf – a beast with the blood of men dripping from its jaws.

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Story by Gregory M. Fox

Photo by Chris Ensminger on Unsplash

Shana was reaching for her keys when the voice slithered out of the darkness. “Hungry,” it groaned. She paused, hand on the knob, and tried to ignore the void in the corner of her eye. “Huuuungryyy.”

She sighed. “I already fed you this morning.”

A thin, boney limb reached out of the shadows, clawing vaguely in Shana’s direction. “Hungry,” the creature growled again, more insistently. She could see the glint of jagged teeth and six glowering eyes reflected out of the darkness.

Shana folded her arms. “This is getting out of hand. I can’t keep going back and forth every time you want a snack.”

She wasn’t sure if the sound that came next was a growl or a hiss, but it made her flinch in spite of herself. Perhaps the creature could sense fear, or perhaps it finally lost its temper. Either way, it began thrashing wildly, beating against the furniture and walls, shouting “Hungry! Hungry! Huuuungrrrrryyyyy!”

But the fit was short-lived, soon replaced by a soft, pathetic whimper. Shana softened. “Wow. You really are hungry, aren’t you?”

Fifteen minutes later, she pulled up to the drive through. “Yeah, I’m going to need a dozen pumpkin spice lattes please.”

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Story by Gregory M. Fox