Word Count: 100
Warning: A little creepy, maybe, but unintentionally.
Author's Note: This wasn't meant to be so dark, but it just came out that way. I was going for innocence, but the result was slightly malevolent. It doesn't see itself that way, though. It simply 'is'. This could be any of dozens of scenes, but I think those who know my writing will guess which one I had in mind.
It falls into me, heavy and warm, sinking into my embrace. The rich liquid flows and I drink like a suckling babe. The black milk of the others things is bitter, but this is hot and sweet, nourishing me.
Heavy feet pound me as the other comes, bruising as it falls at the first one’s side, drawing it close. I drink the salt it drips upon me, feeding and burning at once.
The mother thing is growing cold, its milk no longer flowing. Soon it will be dead, and I will be weaned.
Do not take it: I hunger.