We were both young. I could tell he was still young enough to believe himself invincible. I spotted him moving like an elemental on the other side of the room and downed my drink. The spirits from the bar quelled my nerves and I crossed to join him. I hadn’t done anything like this before.

We talked for an hour until we were both drunk. He, more drunk from love than drink. He was 22. I was 23. I will always remember the first.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said.

“Where shall we go?” asked I.

“Anywhere,” was his reply.

Hand in hand, we left. After a brief exchange deciding which direction to take, we headed toward the park. I knew a dark and quiet place. I led the way from the path and into the trees.

I will always remember the first.

In the woods, through the canopy of sky-reaching limbs, the clouds above spun away from us as I gazed. He aroused something within, speaking words I barely heard him say. The night hid our intents as he licked his lips and pressed against me. He tasted of something frantic–fleeting. Something sweet that I might steal and shred and keep. His heart thumped in his chest. His eyes locked with mine; a wild hungry thing.

My stomach rumbled. I was hungry too. As we walked the clouds churned further and slipped away. The moon began to filter through. It glowed down on us in the clearing. He was taking off his shirt, eager-eyed and far away. I was taking off my pants, hoping this place where we had strayed was deep enough in the inky black of trees to go unseen. All the while, he whispered sweet nothings and wove his loving dreams.

In my memories, the soundtrack of his screams still echo back. The full moon whispered louder, calling through the black. Telling me of better, darker dreams. It made me wild and howling. I pounced through the untamed world like the wind. My ears alerted as he fled, but he was just too loud and slow to win. I did. I drug him down. With paws and muzzle I dug in, tearing out his heart. It still beat; the cadence weak. I ate my fill.

I swore I heard those screams when I met the second and the third. I swore I smelled that same red heat as I drove my muzzle through their shirts and clawed my way inside to find my beating prize, but they weren’t the same.

Because I will always remember the first.

I chase that monthly rush through the trees. None of those that followed had that same sad longing, nor looked so lovingly, nor tasted quite as sweet. They didn’t come with childish dreams…nor hope of loving me. He felt something different, where all they feel is thirst…That is why I think that I will always remember the first.


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