The Ancient Hunger

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The air inside the upper floor was thick, heavy with the smell of stagnant water and a sweet taste, similar to that of rotting animal tissue. I remained motionless behind the old chests, holding my breath, when the glow of my wavering spotlight revealed the hunched figure of that entity following in my footsteps.

It did not constitute a human male, although it wore the typical worn-out clothing of such a being. His back emerged abnormally, bending forward as if carrying the full burden of each accumulated guilt.

One of its limbs was attached near the mouth, crushing food with a soft and disgusting sound, while its other hand, long and pale as dry bone, hung down to the pavement, showing dark, pointed claws similar to metal shards.

Suddenly, the dry sound of wood stepping on her broke the silence. The creature stopped eating. Gradually, he moved his face toward where I was.

The light from the lamp touched her face, and panic froze my blood. Her dermis was pressed against bone, marked by dark veins; her pupils were two deep hollows that seemed to swallow clarity.

His mouth, overly wide and filled with uneven yellow teeth, opened in an expression that pretended to be joyful. He released what he was holding in his palm; it was a piece of fabric I preferred not to name.

With a convulsive gesture, he straightened up as far as his back allowed him, and that hand with eternal nails reached out to me, tearing apart the wind. His speech was a rough murmur, like rocks being rubbed inside a grave: "The smell of new... smell of existence".

And at that moment, I understood that there was no possible exit from that high room.