“The Hunger”

by Ethan Burger

I’m hungry.

For nine days I’ve been walking. Miles of asphalt and well kept lawns pave my trail. And a thousand prefabbed homes, like reflections of reflections, an infinity mirror that stretches alongside the road. I see those houses when I close my eyes. 

Every morning, shortly before sunrise, the sprinkler system turns on. That’s where I get my water. It’s humiliating. I feel like a stray dog, scratching and fighting for survival. But there is no food. The house doors are locked and the windows are hard like iron. On the other side, all I can see is black.

I’m so hungry.

The sun seems perpetually hidden by overcast gray clouds, hanging in the sky. Everything seems hazy, and my mind is filled with fog. Sometimes I swear I hear children laughing, playing, cheering, but I can never find them, they’re always just one block away.

Last night it was raining. I fell asleep on one of the porches, but as I slipped away into slumber, a loud car horn blasted into my ear. From where, I do not know, but I screamed and lept to my feet, bloodshot eyes and awake. I didn’t get any more sleep last night, my clothes were too wet.

The grass makes my skin itch and I think I’ve caught a cold. The rain has stopped but I’m still shivering, and my hands, my lips are still blue.

I’m still hungry.

I’m still shivering, and my hands, my lips are still red. What have I become? Such a divine feast and still I am so hungry. There are tears in my eyes, tears like the rain. The tears run down my cheek and mix with blood and viscera and marrow and fall onto a corpse. A child, flattened against the asphalt. Roadkill. Oh my god.

She was just a kid. She still looked like a person before I began. What have I become?

I’m still so hungry.

Will her family ever see her again? Will they ever even recognize her? What have I done, what have I become, why can I not stop myself?

She’s not even warm anymore, as I dig deeper and deeper to find more and more to eat, as I break open bones and rip out organs I can not find even a degree of warmth. How long has she been here? How long will I be here?

What will I become?