by Lisa McCourt Hollar
Jonathan hovered over the woman, salivating. She was a plump one. The woman, not yet dead, crossed herself, praying for mercy. Jonathan found that amusing. What did God have to do with him? Perhaps she should pray to Lucifer for mercy
Spying the tooth he had knocked from her, he picked it up. Popping it in his mouth, Jonathan sucked off the blood. A positive he thought, pocketing the prize. He would add it to his collection. Crossing the room to the cooking station he found a knife. He was humbled by the bountiful feast he would share this Thanksgiving.
Word Count: 100