I was lying in the leaf-strewn earthy carpet of the local woods, that much I could make out.
The next thing I was aware of, was a deadening cold running from my stomach outwards, tingling my arms and toes, making the tips of my ears burn with the cold.
When my entire body lay stone-cold in the rich brown mud, I felt myself being pulled up, by some external mind, I swear I didn't want to, I wasn't trying to get up. I could feel the mind, pulling a slick black cloak over my human memories and desires. All I knew then, was the urge.
The urge, to taste. Taste, taste the flesh.
I could feel the mould growing rapidly over my once peachy skin. What did I care?
I needed it, needed it more than anything in this god-forsaken stretch of earth.
I was going to reclaim the living to the dead, and taste their flesh while I was at it.
The mind pulled me toward the nearest pheromones radiating from some warm fleshy body, I could hear a woman laughing happily with her partner, while they took a loving walk through the woods.
I vaguely noticed the bite marks that had savaged my legs and neck, huge chunks of flesh missing, as I lumbered towards them with a low snarl.