Arif Hodzic

The chittering and scratching are getting louder.

The creature snatches another rat, then another, and another, popping them into his nightmare maw like he's eating peanuts.

I watch with horror as red blood begins to pump through his veins, making intricate patterns on his leathery wings.

He laughs, and I wet myself.

I hope it's urine and not blood down there.

He jabs a claw at the window.

He closes his eyes and sniffs the air.

Something scratches at my pants cuff.

Then I feel small claws dig into my flesh and climb up my leg.

I can't look down.

I can't even scream.

I just have to take it as more and more claws climb my leg.

Then, claws are on my arms, my back, my chest.

I can hear their squeaks and sniffles.

I can smell their urine as they mark me, making me theirs.

The rats are at my neck, covering the rest of me in a wriggling, squeaking, clawing, biting, gnashing carpet of rodentia, and they are doing the same with Inmate Zero.

The creature is no longer feeding on the animals, but allowing them to coat him from head to toe, from the tip of one wing to the tip of the other.

Claws grip the back of my scalp and clamber up on top of my head.

Warm rat urine trickles through my hair.

I can smell their feces.