Ug kung daghan pa ka og nakaon nga humay kaysa kanako
There is a saying in Cebuano, “If you have eaten more rice than I have, then you can complain.” Usually it is meant for children, not to contradict their parents’ decisions.
Brown St., Brooklyn, New York, USA
An old man is carrying a cake, he is walking along Brown St., Brooklyn. He walks into a property, with a decent small front yard, and into the porch and knocks.
“Hello, anybody home?”
A pregnant woman comes out. “Mr. Lutz?”
“I hope I am not bothering or anything, I was walking and I passed by a store selling this beautiful looking cake.”
“Oh my, Mr. Lutz, you bring out my weakness. I have cravings for chocolate cake for five months now. You shouldn’t have.”
“Well?” Mr. Lutz trying to be coy.
“Why don’t you come in, and let me give you a slice before you go.”
“Naah… you shouldn’t.”
“Please Mr. Lutz, it will be my pleasure, I insist. Besides you have been coming over here for the past three days now.”
“I’m sorry if I bothered you guys, young families kind of reminded me of… me”
“Don’t you have any children Mr. Lutz?” Pamela Luchesi slices a piece of cake for herself and Mr. Lutz.
“We never had the chance, the missis could not…” Mr. Lutz fumbling for words and looking sad.
Pamela touches Mr. Lutz’s hands in consoling manner. “Mr. Lutz, you don’t have to say anything.”
“Thanks,” Lutz playing coy, he is not much of an actor but this one works.
Oh that sweet odor again. That sweet fruity scent, why do I always smell this on pregnant women? Why do pregnant women always smell like this?
He has been feeding on the unborn baby’s soul for three days now, at the moment he made contact he started to feed.
He could see a white smoke like light coming out from the mother’s tummy or where the belly button should be.
The light is spellbinding. The white color is followed by a myriad of colors, this usually depends on the mood of a person.
Like how a synesthete perceives the world, but he is not synesthetic nor neurologically impaired, he is without a doubt another wakwak.
He slowly takes it in through his mouth he is after all feeding on the baby’s soul. No one would suspect what is going on with him, because after all he is old.
He looks like someone out of breath, breathless and trying to get more air into their lungs.
It is always on the third day that seems the best, but in reality it takes three days to consume the soul of an unborn this way and it is on this last few amount of the soul left that is always the best.
The color of the light turns to purple. All of a sudden he notices the scent just left and the light disappeared.
Why does it always have to be on the third day, why does it always have to go on the third day?
“Oh I guess I must have been bothering you, at least I was trying to spoil you like I would with my child, but that didn’t happen. I won’t be here long.”
“It’s alright Mr. Lutz; at least I have some company while Jerry is out.”
“No, I insist you do need time to yourself and I don’t like to be a burden, with a baby coming.”
“Mr. Lutz you don’t have to say that, at least I have someone to talk to sometimes.”
“Don’t say that young lady, I will be back, I will be checking on you kids from time to time.”
“Mr. Lutz, it’s a pleasure having you hear, please do come by. So are you going out for a run tonight, Jerry should be back from Vegas tonight I guess?”
Pamela pours some orange juice for herself and Mr. Lutz.
“Well I try to run as much as possible early morning and evening, it’s not that I have anything to do.” Feeling invigorated after the feeding, he stands up and smiles on Pamela.
“I’ll best take my leave now, and thank you for the cake and the juice was quite invigorating. I feel like a need for a walk.”
Mr. Lutz is feeling a slight tingling sensation in his head, like the top of his is pulling him up, this is something that he has gotten used to and has learned to control over the years.
“It’s a pleasure having you here, and do come back.”
Mr. Lutz left like nothing happened, he has gotten used to this charade for years now.
The night jog is a recent activity; finding out about this new trend, gave him the best opportunity to reconnoiter and even feed on the souls along the way.
And the frustration of losing the addicting scent goes along with it too.
Brown St., Brooklyn, Johnson Lutz a 99 year old World War II veteran, a widower, his wife died 21 years ago.
He is a pretty normal person, friendly and very neighborly. He kept his weight and muscles toned and ran and exercised daily, not bad for an old man.
But this old man has a secret of which he cannot even control, some secret he kept for seven decades now, a secret that cannot be helped but through death alone.
As a rule he does not actually live around Brown St. but somewhere else, this way it would be easy to get away when suspicion arises.
Out of the blue, a familiar sight, the eyes of someone just like him over seven decades ago. It took this long to see another one like him, and of all places the United States.
A young guy stares back at him, and walks away.
Agitated at being disregarded, and feeling insulted he follows the guy. He ran so he gave chase.
After a long chase. He finally catches up with him and he introduces himself.
“Lutz, my name is Lutz.”
“Look old man, what do you want, who are you, I do not want to hurt you,” the young man responds, sounding angry and aggressive.
Lutz angry at the young man’s response, and lack of respect for the elderly.
Lutz is a tall man over 6 feet tall and over 90 years old, he did not get what other seniors get, shrink. In fact he maintained his height and weight since after the war.
Towering over the young man, he grabs his throat and pins him to the door, “Look young man, where I’ve been the youth do not complain over their elders. Unless you had more rice than I have, you ain’t get to say anything at all.”