The Memory Eater

I am a rare breed; a mutation. As far as I know, I am the first, and only, of my kind to grace the night.
They call me Memory Eater.
Some odd years ago, a plague was released on Earth. Scientists called it a miracle drug. It was supposed to better humanity. Instead, it's been slowly forming roots in the souls of man. Those infected gained sustenance, only, from eating the brains of other humans. I believe Hannibal was among the first. If not, he brought the disease, the plague, into the limelight.
Then there are some that are... resistant to the feeding. Those are the Newly Made; the ones made from the Originals the scientists experimented on.
And then there's me. I was 24 when it happened and freshly married. My bride did not survive.
The one who made me was Basil. He was the first Original. They chose him because of his Alzheimer's. The med student in charge of his meals was his first victim. Being Chosen by Basil is the highest honor of our kind. But my "gift" holds only horror.
So I traveled the world, endlessly, trying to hide, to run, from my fate. I am scorned by the ones who made me. I am shunned by the ones who had known me. I am feared by those I would prey on.
Now, I live in a cave high in the Catskill Mountains surviving off animals like a heathen. But that isn't what I wish to tell you. The story I need to write is her's.
Jeezabelle's.
She was little more than a child when I first saw her. Her blonde curls, tangled and dirty, nearly glowed in the moonlight. But it was her eyes that caught my attention. The pain was almost unbearable. Almost enough to rival my own. And so I followed her in the attempt to sate my curiosity. No one before her had caused me to feel. Not since my turnday.
It wasn't long before she heard rumors of a healer on the top of the mountain and she sought me out. Generations of old wives forgetting that I cannot heal. That I harm. But still she sought me.
"Healer!" she cried after days of searching, her body exhausted, bloodied, and bruised. "Healer! Help me."
Days she wandered and days I let her. At night while she slept, I crept towards her, craving sustenance, knowing I could take what I so desperately needed. But each time my hand neared her's a soft sigh would escape her lips and she would look so much like the child my wife had been.
Then one night, she found my cave. Whether she found it or I unknowingly herded her towards it, I don't know, but she found it nonetheless. I watched as she waited. She sat at the mouth of my cave and waited. Night fell and she waited. And day broke and still she waited. That night, I hid in the shadows and listened to her.
Softly, as if in prayer, she asked me to take her pain. Silent tears rolled down her plump cheeks mingling with the dirt and blood.
"I cannot help you, Jeezabelle."
I didn't remember saying it, but I said it all the same. She stood as her tears intensified.
"But you're the only one who can."
"I am not a healer. I have nothing to take your pain away."
She took a tentative step towards my hiding place.
"It is not my body that hurts me, but my mind."
I grew angry at her.
"Foolish child! Do not seek out Death. Do not make this your fate." I stepped out into the moonlight to her soft gasp. She reached for me then pulled back her hand. "I do not have the power to turn you."
I turned and started to walk further into the forest.
"I do not seek Death, but ignorance."
At her whispered defeat, I stopped. She was no longer crying but her pain, her memories, gripped her tighter.
"Think only of the memory you want to forget and take my hand."
And so started our relationship. Every few months she would come to me. She would give me life and I gave her freedom.
Then one day she came to me with the gilded gold of her hair hidden by brushed silver.
"Jeezabelle," I whispered fondly.
"I am dying, Memory Eater. Take this last sin from me. Let me die in peace."
I nodded and we sat down. She took a few labored breaths. Then she did something she never had before: She touched what was left of my face. At that briefest of caresses, memories flooded my brain and her guilt weighed heavily on my stomach.
I saw her as a young girl, Chosen to find me. Chosen to feed me, sustain me. Fatten me.
Her hand fell from my face. We had both fallen over to lay on the ground during the exchange. With her final breaths, she smiled at me and for once I saw no pain in her eyes.
"Thank you, my friend," she whispered into the inky darkness of the night. I placed her in my cave, the best burial I could give her, and I left.
So I travel the world, endlessly, trying to hide, to run, from my fate. I run from my curse. I run from my memories. I run from the one who would prey on me.
I run from Basil.


This is my entry to @Blackfireink's Memory Eating Zombie Writing Contest. For rules and details go to www.blackfireink.tumblr.com The contest ends at the end of September so get a move on!