The Hunger Gnaws...

She dangles her hand off the side of the bed unknowingly tempting you with her delicate flesh. You remember the taste, the satisfying feeling of fullness. Unable to resist any longer you slink from the recesses, your yellow, aged claws flexing, old bones creaking like wooden floor boards in an empty hallway. You're not as strong as you once were.

"Soon the fear that feeds you will again be yours."

Your approach is slower than you remember. Your steps halting and uncertain. Traveling on shadows used to be much swifter. You pause as the space around you shifts; something isn't right. The walls are no longer pink. Gone are the winged horses and fairy tale princesses. The dollhouse is missing. In its place sits a glowing square of light. You raise an arm and hiss softly.

"Hurry. Before it's too late."

Each step takes enormous effort and your breathing is labored, the air whispers through you like wind moaning through branches long dead. Your slivered eyes search for the raggedy bear she clings to, desperate for something familiar; something to let you know all is not lost.

Your scarred skin, once stretched taut over rippling muscle, now shrivels and erodes into the air like Sandman's sleeping powder.

It's gone. It's all gone. Sometime between then and now she aged and grew. She moved on and forgot all about you hiding in the closet, in the darkest corner, under the bed. As the last shred of you vanishes into distant memory you realize...

"She wasn't afraid of you anymore."

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I wrote this piece as a response to a writing prompt in a writing group. The prompt said to write something that ends with "She wasn't afraid of you anymore." I really liked my piece, so I wanted it to be posted here, too.