As your eyes open and your consciousness drifts back into this realm, you realize with certainty, as you do every night, that the sun has gone down. Once a week the ritual begins anew; once a week your predatory nature asserts itself as the Beast rears it's ugly head and the Hunger returns.
You rise from the ornate four-poster bed and dress for the evening. Tonight is the summer solstice, the shortest night of the year, but the Hunger cares not for convenience or other such details. The Hunger must be fed, as it has been fed for lo these many centuries.
And feed it you shall.
20th place (out of 37) in the 5th Annual Interactive Fiction Competition.
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