Page 31 of Zombies, Satyrs and Vampires, Oh My!

“I’m not looking for anyone,” I mumble. “I gave up on that a long time ago.”

“Because of your fiancée?” He shakes his head. He pats the wall once, then starts packing up his tools. “Not worth it, man. You’ve got to try again if for no other reason than I’m tired of looking at your junk. It’s all red and angry.”

“I’ll think about it,” I say.

“I mean if there has to be love, that’s not going to happen if you don’t spend time with her, right?” He picks up his metal tool chest and walks towards me. “Gotta let all of that dry. Then I’ll be back to paint it. Try not to have another episode or whatever the fuck you call them in the meantime.”

I release a slow breath. “I’d never touch it again if I could help it.”

He braces a hand on my shoulder.

“If you hear anything else about her, will you let me know?” I ask. Because I’m unable not to. I’m dying for more information. How did she even learn about me? I’m pretty sure the townspeople squashed rumors of the randy—always ready—satyr in the monster town.

“Yeah. Maybe I’ll let your name slip. Your address. That creepy building where you play piano at night.”

I roll my eyes. Xander’s one to talk. He spends far too much time in a creepy building himself–the abandoned inn at the edge of town. It belonged to brother and sister, Gregor and Galina, before Gregor was transformed into an Ogre and Galina disappeared. Apparently, Xander has been dreaming and hallucinating about Galina where she’s trying to tell him something. And he thinks I’m a weirdo with my perpetually perky penis.

“Thanks, Xander,” I say.

He raises a hand, already walking away. “Anytime.”

I can’t help but wonder if the woman asking about me is the one I saw several months ago.

Sometimes when the fever hits—that's what I call it when I just feel as if I can't control my urges anymore. It’s in those moments I know that I'm more monster than I am man. I hate that but I can't do anything about it. So even though I know that it won't help and that it won't make it better and it definitely won't make it go away, when the fever hits, I still have to grab my dick. I stroke and stroke and stroke and plead just make it go away. It never does.

Sometimes the fever leads to the episodes Xander mentioned where I just lose my shit and break stuff. I’m not proud of it. If there’s one thing this whole ordeal has taught me, it’s that in my before life, I was very much in control. Of everything. My life was orderly and predictable. Here, in this after, I have no control over anything. I fucking hate it.

On one such occasion when the fever hit, I was walking in the woods near the city limits. And there was a car driving slowly. I don’t normally masturbate on the side of the road. I’m not a pervert, despite how things might look. Still, the woman driving the car looked out the window and we locked eyes for a moment. Something happened.

I don't even know how to explain it. I just know that there was something more in that moment when our eyes connected. I felt her. Her curiosity, her passion, as if I knew her.

Sadly, I know better than to put my fate in the hands of a human. Their emotions are fickle and waning. I don't want to get my hopes up. Not again. I certainly don't want to hurt anyone.

The truth is, I never know when the fever will hit. But I do know that it is getting worse, stronger, and a lot harder to ignore.