The heart of a man is delicious.

What you're about to hear is based on actual events.

Listen to discretion is advised.

I thought it would bleed more than this.

And hurt more for that matter.

The man's blood is painted across the unfinished wooden floor of the darkened room.

What a beautiful pattern.

In the distance, you can hear the faint clatter of a meal being prepared.

The chimes of utensils and dishes begin to sound like a melodic tune to his waning hearing.

His senses are suffering from the lack of blood, and the presence of blood only makes the queasy fuzziness worse.

He tries to maintain his arousal and anticipation, but it's getting harder now to simply stay awake.

My whole body is tingling.

I can't feel my feet.

He says out loud.

When is our meal going to be ready?

The sun is beginning to set.

Shadows cast by the mountains in the west are slowly crawling eastward, stretching across the sky as if pulling a canvas.

Armand's face dips in and out of the shadows as he starts down the hill.

The still cold air forces his hands into his pockets, but the sun is still standing.

But not a rush in a step.

The bite and the air didn't bother Armand.

Besides, soon it will be spring.

...