The Idiot Who Left the Fire

Flesh was falling from the bone, clumps of flyblown steak, rippling the glass surface below its reflection fragmented in the lake bloods oily residue hanging in long tendrils, leaving a stringy mucus in its wake, coagulated, and black, it stained the decayed clothes of the phantom, as it moved across the lake. Campers unbeknownst, they tarried by the fire, laughing and enjoying their night, the firelight a homing beacon for the spectre moving towards the light as nature calls one left the circle and entered into the woods the wraith shifting its focus deviating - an end; all likelihood it found its target and extended its fingers inserting them at the base of the neck blood curdling screams were released as the pain disseminated - oh heck! it lifted the man off his feet by his skull and flicked it with an echoing snap and tore the man apart from his shoulders to his lap The revellers around the fire did question the ear shattering cry and stood to call out to their friend who was "supposedly" nearby Not a sound was uttered, no response came to their ear as the spectre was engorging on the flesh, its lips a red smear. Tearing the meat from the bones, and sucking them clean the discarded pile of the friend rising as it drinks the man's spleen The eye balls, the brain, the sweet breads came last like a delicate treat, he savoured these tasting the lymphoblast and licking his fingers he sighed in delight - for the entree was satisfying - but dinner was by the fire light.