Nothing Must Go to Waste

[Val]

( Some dark/mature themes, even if only briefly! )

 

He couldn’t sleep. But that wasn’t abnormal, was it? Usually it came because an idea or thought caused his mind to be far too restless, and that was not currently far from the truth. The man didn’t really know where he was going, preferring instead to allow his feet to do the leading. He made his way down from the guest room of the estate, through the foyer and into the hallway. A turn here, a turn there, and the descent of a flight of stairs led him down to the basement.

 

The man made his way past the various contraptions, through the room that housed seemingly hundreds of vials and containers of a airy, bluish-green substance, past a room full of cages filled with various entities and beings—some of the known world and some not—until he finally came to a stop a few rooms beyond. His violet eyes surveyed the surroundings. It was all just as they had left it. Blood pooled on the floor along the edge of a circle that had been drawn in chalk, though the majority of it had dried by now. The candles around the circle had long-since melted away, and various cadavers and limbs littered the floor. He set to cleaning.

 

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been forced to pick things up himself. It should have already been done by the various servants in the estate, assuming he even had any left after the events. He did, didn’t he? If not, perhaps he would have to find the means to make more. After all, there were plenty resources in which nobody had need of; plenty that were carelessly thrown out and going to waste. Most of them, no one missed. Most of them went unwanted or unheard of. Only occasionally would he see a flyer or article about one, but by then it no longer mattered.

 

It was not until he placed the final cadaver on its respective table that his body gave out, forcing him to slump against the darkened wood for support. Weakness was something he’d not felt in some time. He loathed feeling powerless, helpless and unable to take control of the changes and events around him. He felt it now more than ever. His muscles ached and his head throbbed with a dull, pulsing pain. More importantly, his chest burned. It had been ever since the events, but he would not make it known. No, neither of them deserved to worry about him for what he’d put them through. It was to be his penance.

 

“Feast,” ordered a sudden voice from the dark recesses of his mind, deep and commanding.

There was a lengthy pause before he deigned an audible response. “I have already taken all that these have to give. There is nothing left.”

“You must look beyond what you have already taken.”

“Beyond wh—Surely, you cannot mean..”

“There exists power in flesh.”

 

The voice was right. He knew it to be true. He could sense the remnants flowing about the body, not quite having left. If it was not taken directly, it would surely go to waste. His right hand lifted to brush over the corpse, fingers tracing over the exposed skin and decaying organs. Some of the flesh inside was still good, not yet taken by the onset of rot. It hadn’t been here for too long.

 

“Feast,” the voice commanded again.

 

It took little effort to dislodge some of the raw meat and bring it up to his lips, even with the weakness of his body. He hesitated, peering beyond the small bite to the body that it had come from. His hand was shaking purely because of how tired he was, wasn’t it? Certainly it had nothing to do with apprehension or fear or anxiety. 

 

“FEED,” came the voice once more, booming from deep within. “Nothing must go to waste.”

“Nothing must go to waste,” he echoed as he slipped the morsel of flesh past his lips.