His calling

His Calling

There was no doubt about it. He knew that the majestic tiger represented him. Strong, and in charge. Dominating even the snow that surrounded him. Just the way he took charge of his victims. He’d had that dream before. The tiger looked forward defiantly, it was his calling. It comforted him. He too was a predator, stalking his prey and then pouncing on them by surprise. He bowed to nobody.
He chuckled, shivering with excitement as he thought of their fear. Their frightened screams. And then there were those that soiled themselves – they suffered more than the rest – how dare they disrespect him?!

It was a pleasure to watch them seething in agony. And it was even better that they had never suspected a thing when he picked them up. The gold-diggers. Falling for his shiny, yellow Lambo, and his hard, thick, leather wallet. They deserved every bit of it. He watched them through the night. Rejecting others. Judging the clothes they wore, the drinks they bought, and sometimes even the cars they drove. And only choosing those that flashed money in their faces. He was thankful that his good looks worked in his favour.

He sat now, with a bottle of the most expensive item on the menu on the table. A single glass next to it. It didn’t take them long. He’d only been here fifteen minutes. The blonde and her brunette friend – eyes eager as they approached him. Two for the price of one. Lucky him.


Author: nerishakemraj

Self-published poet, and fiction writer.

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