The bodies dropped all around him, long thorny vines retracted themselves from the bodies of the poor victims. The bloodied vines suspended themselves in air where the blood dripped down from the sharp tips of the vines to the poor man's body standing amidst them. His eyes were half-closed and a few tears made themselves noticeable shining in the corners of his eyes. The vines that protruded so grossly from the man's flesh stopped their spasmodic movements and from each and every thorn along the lengths of the vine a flower bloomed. The petals of these beautiful flowers were the same red as the crimson liquid that the plants had fed on.

Eventually the flowers closed back up and all at once retracted themselves through his flesh into his body. Alain's body slumped back against the wall of the building outside one of the abondoned warehouses in the old fishing district. His eyes fluttered open and his gaze swept over the 3 people dead and mutilated on the ground. They have been law enforcement officers, they had been after him because of a fake police report filed under his name. He didn't want to kill them but they had pulled their guns on him and it was just so hungry.

There was no denying it when it began to permeate his brain. He always noticed it at first by the vines becoming a little more brittle than normal. That was followed by a greying of the senses, a feeling of hopelessness. Then the real need kicked in and he thought about killing other people all through the day every day. He tried to keep the hunger back by not using it as often as he possibly could. Alain stood up from the ground as most of the wounds on his body made from the plants tearing through him were closing back up, green fibrous tissue bridged the gap and pulled the skin back together stitching it up. He stumbled out of the alleyway into the empty street.