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Soprano Morto

      He wandered aimlessly as wind whispering through the trees. Leaves rustled and crunched underfoot having long since fallen, leaving the branches bare, skeletal fingers pointing in a thousand directions. There was no purpose to his steps, no drive behind his march. His eyes barely registered the path before him as he stumbled on through the foggy woods. The air was filled with a diffuse moonlight, lighting the area in a dull grey glow. 

      The snap of a twig caused him to turn his head, becoming as still as the trees he stood among. Through the air drifted a broken melody; a sweet set of tones carrying through the night. Each note was called out gently, placed carefully as though the singer was remembering long forgotten words, pausing to make sure that each word was the correct one. 

      With nary a sound, he shuffled forward towards the source, a desperate need blossoming within him, encompassing his very being. The dulcet tones rang out and he moved with them, each step matching the ragged beat the singer kept. As he rounded a tree, the slightest whisper of a sound escaped his throat.

      In a clearing no more than 10 feet ahead of him sat a woman. Her hair was done up in a tight bun that sat just under a white baseball cap. She sang more to herself as he took another step, his movements silent, but not by intention. She absently picked blades of grass from her jeans, gazing up through the fog at the sky as she found the next words to her tune. She seemed not to hear him approach over her own voice, or perhaps it was that she chose to ignore it, passed it off as the sounds of the forest itself. Whatever the reason, she sang on as he drew near, a shaky hand reaching out to her. 

      At the last moment she turned and saw him, the words stopping dead in her throat. He grabbed at her shirt and fell atop her heavily as she let out a scream, struggling to move away. Her shouts fell on deaf ears, her fists might have been hitting falling water for all the good it did. Mouth agape, he drew her closer, despite her efforts and wails. She shrieked louder as he began to bite her, her voice unrecognizable from the soothing sounds from only seconds before. Blood swelled and sprayed from her wounds like water finding cracks in a dam, and all too soon she fell silent, neither her songs nor her screams echoing into the night. The only noises came from his feast, the slurps and squishes of fluids, the snapping of muscles and tendons, and the hum-like growl that escaped him in-between bites. 

      It wasn't long before he stood and began walking again, having had his fill of fresh flesh and warm blood. He started off aimless, his eyes once again dulled with a general malaise. A moan sounded behind him and he turned slowly toward the source. He watched as the singer shifted and stood slowly, her eyes meeting his and mirroring his own apathetic gaze. He turned away and she followed him closely, the two shambling off into the fog, together, lost in the woods.