Prowler
By: A.W. Verheyen

His eyes skipped through the vacant light of the arching midnight streets. His desire burned, as did the prickle of his evolving fury. A small lump formed in his throat and he swallowed it. His palpatations became coherent as he flowed in and out of each shadow, moulding it as if it were clay, formed by his persuit.

He clenched his fist, and tightened his fingers around the smooth handle of a freshly sharpened blade. Sweat dripped from his brow, as his mouth salavated and eyes widened. Aproaching in the shallow distance was his specimen. He cowered into the shadow.

A young woman neared his perch. Her belly swollen, her breasts perked, and her face emotionless. Her hands cooed the curves of her enlarged abdomen. She was cautious, yet seceptible, strong with her plight, yet frailed by her femeninity, hard to find, yet easy to catch. She was alone and frightened; the perfect prey.

He clenched his teeth as she approached. His heart pounded. He flickerd his tongue around his lips, as a quick taste of sweat emcoumbered his senses. A hideous smile formed upon his lips, as he open his lungs, and took in a cool chill of air. With an exuberent sigh he lunged from the shadow.

His free hand lured itself around her mouth, as the other bared a knife before her throat. The soft coo of her screams nuzzled against his hand as he effortlessly pulled the knife through the skin of her neck; deep in her esouphagus. Her scream crackled, as her tireless struggles ceased. A deep red fluid ozzed through her mouth and onto his hands, and her lifeless body fell to the ground.

His attention changed as his eyes traced down and onto the center of her blouse. With a silent stroke of his hand, he ripped it open. Her belly was full, and still warm. He prodded it with his hands until he found an indentation of particular softness. He pulled his knife forward and carefully slid it in.

He dragged down, and her stomach opened like a zipper. He carefully pulled the skin away, seperating the remaining flesh from the womb. The moist folds flopped aside, and the gentleman smiled. He reached inside, and pulled the still moving unborn through the mounds of flesh.

The child looked up into the man, it's eyes glowing an incandecent red. Two small horns erupted from the apex of each wart covered temple, stretching toward the crown of it's head. A row of sharp pointed teeth weilded the flicker of a serpant tongue. The hideous babe was boiled and blistered; fingers protruding sharp claws. It giggled happily amisdt the night air.

The man glowered over the blackened babe as it's stare shot a Mephistophelian grimace up towards it's saviour. He severed the chord and stood up; turning away from his unpropitious victory. His looked away into the darkness for a quick escape as he eyed a favourable destination. His blackened tongue lept accross either cheek as eyes flashed quick burn of red that lit up the night streets.

Again he smiled, as he nuzzled the babe in his arms. It's gentle coos were tainted by the occational wimper, and the intermittant severance of a softly bellowed growl. He peared into the dark and a yawing hunch, he scampered away into the still night. The viceral silence fashioned itself to it's surroundings, as a barly descried cackle, faded into the eternity of the darkness.