They Call Me Demon-Head

The other dogs were much faster than me, and more aggressive. If there was any scrap of food on the street they’d get it first. They’d have it eaten in a flash, before I even got there. They had a better sense of smell than me too. They also had stronger jaws and sharper teeth – they had all the advantages. That’s because I wasn’t really a dog, I was only pretending to be a dog. I was hunting with the hounds but I wasn’t a hound…


Demon-head – they call me demon-head. They call me demon-head on account of the great big head I have on me. I scream all night long. Screaming all night long – screaming like a banshee, screaming like a devil. Minutes seemed like days and the days seemed like nothing at all. Voices crying out in the wilderness. Howling and bubbling, full of malevolent mirth. They call me demon-head because of the head that’s on me. They call me demon-mind because of all the bad things I think. I scream all night long minutes seem like days and the days seem like nothing at all. The days are like the thick carpet of dust that covers the long abandoned dormitory where we slept our lives away. All is consumed by the maw of the Great Lamprey.


I am sad and I don’t know why – I feel like a sad broken thing hobbling down the street. It’s me, I cry out but I nobody knows me. I don’t know myself. I try to cry out but I can’t – I have no voice. I am the great lamprey. I am lamprey-head – I have the head of a vast lamprey. All you can see is my great, all-consuming mouth. My teeth – my rows and rows of teeth. My vast all-engulfing maw. It’ll burrow deep into your flesh and you’ll never shake me off. I’ll be your companion for life. I don’t mean to hurt you but I will…


The other dogs were faster than me and stronger – so much stronger. They raced ahead, knocking over the bins and pulling the contents out onto the street. Silently they ran, the only sound the clatter of the bins being pulled over. Smelling out the goodies, swallowing them down in a flash. The ecstasy of the chase. The promise of the night. Obeying the terrible hunger that is in us, the terrible, terrible hunger. The clatter of the bins is music to my ears but I never get there in time to claim my share of the goodies…





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