by Clint Foster
There was no warning before I died.
A sharp flash of pain, a weakness as the blood left my body, then I was tired, and I slept. I can’t say how long I rested, nor could I have guessed where I was. I remember the taste of metal and the fire in my throat and gut as I was fed. When I woke, I wondered if this was heaven, or perhaps hell. Maybe it was both, or neither, or something in between. Yet I woke, and I woke hungry, and where most newborns mewl for milk, I craved only blood.
Clint Foster lives with his herd of four cats, his beloved Basset, Zero, and his wonderful wife, Nik. He loves to tell stories as much as he loves to read them, and hopes you like his work! Follow on Facebook: www.facebook.com/ClintFosterAuthor