Beyond the End

Sour was the taste on his tongue, devouring the deep as he swallowed flesh.

His mind had degraded long ago. Between the infection that had haunted his arm to the baseball bat that had hit him hard enough to be damaged but not dead, he would never return to the man he once was.

Not that he wanted to return, of course.

The tug of sinew under his fingernails and the most delectable scent of fresh meat were pleasures his addled brain would never surrender. It made his dead tongue itch for a taste he hadn't felt in a long while.

Something in his rotting heart clenched when his remaining eye moved to examine the face of the body he was devouring.

She was a pretty thing, and there was something vaguely familiar about her features. He would have frowned if he still had the muscles to do so. A groan ripped itself out of his throat, and he was hit with the metallic smell of the delectable meal before him once more.

His hunger took over and he began to dig in, feeling eyeballs pop in his mouth and skin tear under his hands.

She was unrecognizable by the time he was done.

The world seemed just a little bit lonelier when he looked up to see an empty street, abandoned and filled with nothing but ghosts. He looked down to see a pair of hideous hands and let himself fall.