The Milk of Human Kindness

By Da Vinci at Work

"Yet doe I feare thy Nature, It is too full o' th' Milke of humane kindnesse." -William Shakespeare 1623, Macbeth

1. Into Thin Air

His fingers, bitter with unrequited restlessness, lingered upon her skin, bare and pale. He traced the delicate line of a bead of cold sweat traveling along her sensuous collar bone. Slightly bemused, he went on to lick his finger.

Salty.

Fear.

Unsatisfied, he screamed a scream that seemed capable of ripping the soul out of his heart. But it didn't, however misshapen and damaged, it remained.

Unsatisfied. Restless.

Unsatisfied and restless, he concluded. That's what he was, and God damn him for it. He cackled softly to himself, cackling at the loss of his sanity.

Without a backwards glance, he sauntered away, leaving the woman and her salty cold sweat lying flat and broken on the forest ground.

A/N: An experiment on my part. I never intended to post such a serious piece here, but here it is. Enjoy.