Prologue

Ben looked all around him. Nothing seemed to make sense. Everything was in tatters. Trees burned a crimson red, mountains of bricks that once were walls lay strewn all over. It was a scene from hell, or as close to it as he himself can imagine. Through the thick cloud of smoke rising seemingly from the face of the earth, he was astounded to find a lone figure on her knees, swaying back and forth, as fleetingly as leaves would in the gentle breeze of the wind.

As he walked closer to the figure, he saw that the lone figure was a mother cradling her child, hugging the infant tightly to her breast. Her breath came in short gasps, mouth opening and closing as a fish might. He could hear her sobbing from even this distance. Tears streamed down her cheeks, slowly dripping on the child's pure face.

His heart broke.

Then, he noticed something was off. While the mother was obviously in a state of distraught, weeping, sobbing, as he looked closer, her face was drenched in blood. Her mouth was working slowly, as if she was chewing an uncooked piece of cheap slab of meat. And there was definitely something wrong with the child's face.

A big gaping hole on his left cheek, all bloodied and marred. A deep, dark purple abrasion mapped his soft white skin up to his cute button nose. Streaks of black veins that looked like webs filled the left side of his face. His round eyes were open, as though horrified by what he saw last, and yet confused as why God had let something of this magnitude of monstrosity happened to an innocent soul like him. Bulging almost out of its socket, Ben can only imagine the pain that he had gone through.

A horrifying thought occurred to Ben just then.

Slowly she bent her head down, bit on his flesh, and tore it up some more, sobbing while at the same time enjoying the taste of her own son. Ever so slowly, she chewed on the tender meat that was her son's. And ever so slowly, she averted her eyes upward to enjoy the meal.

That was when she noticed Ben.

A distorted squeal escaped Ben's lips as it dawned on him what situation he was in. As she rose, Ben backed up and turned, his feet dragging beneath him, slowing him down. He forced them to work, using every bit of energy in him to run away, but they just wobbled and turned to liquid, taking him down. He was barely able to turn his head back around, but he managed to peek.

The mother had already stood. Eyes white with rage, or hunger, Ben could not know, were looking straight at him. As she rose her hand, a finger pointing towards him, she said, whispered to be exact, barely loud enough for Ben to hear from this distance.

"Food..."