Darkness. Endless Darkness. I saw nothing. I felt nothing. I heard nothing. I screamed, but no noise came out. I was nothing. But then I felt it... I felt it aching inside, gnawing at me. It wouldn't stop. The Hunger. The Unending, the excruciating hunger. That's when I felt it. Scurrying around inside me, above me. Furry little feet scampering around, it's tiny little brain unaware of the part it would play. Of the miracle it would take part in. Tiny little splashes. I was so hungry. I felt myself grip it tight and draw it into myself. I heard it SCREAM in agony as it's flesh, it's bone and it's blood fed me and flowed through me, giving me strength.
But it wasn't enough. I tried moving, but nothing happened. I was still in the darkness, I was still nothing. All that changed when that man came in. I wonder what he looked like... I felt the vibrations of his footsteps. Like earthquakes. I felt myself shifting as he grew near and my hunger began clawing at my mind yet again. I felt a touch, but it wasn't meat. I hated it. It tasted FOUL. It was cold and tough. But I was SO HUNGRY. Instinct took command and I felt myself moving up and over, until I felt warm flesh. I began chewing and swallowing as much and as fast as I could. Warm, bloody chunks. Marrow dripping from cracked bones, flesh so tender and juicy.
With each bite I felt strength flowing into me. Ah... I could see, I could hear the sounds of my own slurping and chewing. I could see the red flowing from the open chest. But everything was still so black, and as I reached my hand into the darkness, I saw it. I saw that I WAS the darkness. My hand was black and flowing. For a moment. For just a moment. The Hunger stopped and I looked on with... Uncharacteristic horror at myself. All black and flowing. I was everywhere. I was even inside the body, pieces of me chewing and sucking dry the body. But as quickly as my terror came, it passed underneath that hunger. I ripped into the body with even greater zeal until nothing but the empty clothes remained. I lapped up every last drop of blood. But it wasn't enough. I wasn't satisfied. I was still hungry. I needed more. I had to have more.
I reached out a hand and dragged myself along the ground like a worm. Slithering towards the door. I saw something attached to the door. A room, filled with crates and empty clothes. But closest to me was a mass of writhing black sludge, with half a blackened human skeleton staring at me. Wet, bony hand outstretched as if dragging itself towards me. And as I stared into those empty sockets of that grinning skull, I realized something. It was Me. I was it. And I laughed, I could hear it. Less a laugh than a terrible gurgling, but I didn't care. I laughed and laughed and laughed. Because it was funny. It was so funny. My laughter brought the attention of another worker and he screamed and I laughed more. And the hunger, the terrible hunger pulled me forward with such speed. And as I chewed and I crunched up bone and organs I felt myself taking shape.
Every vein I drained was a vein in me. Meat took shape on black bone. I felt so strong now. I stood, tall and laughing over the empty clothes and I turned to see the myself once more. Large chunks of raw black flesh, oozing liquids, with small patches of bone visible. Eyes took shape and I saw them peering out from malformed sockets. Yellow. Piercing Yellow. Burning Yellow. Those Yellow eyes became the last thing 64 more workers saw before they died. The only thing left behind were the empty, spotless clothes. Each time one vanished, I returned to myself and gazed into it. Each time my shape returned to me, first the colorless skin, then oily blackened hair. Many times I returned and saw no color on me but the yellow eyes which marked me. And the hunger kept me going back for more to finish it, to finish myself. With the final meal I saw myself. Full Flesh, my skin an ivory hue, bright blue eyes and light blonde hair. I was unmistakable. I had a name. I had history. I had new life.
I was a murderer, I was a servant of my God, I was the butcher of men, the devourer of children... I was Morningstar. And I am still so very hungry.