The Centenarian

The creature is withered, a gray husk in a colorless frock. She shuffles unnoticed through the subway, another piece of urban detritus. The needle in her trembling hand is ancient, yet it shines like new. She brushes against a beautiful young woman, a quick prick of firm skin, a drop of dark red blood then she disappears into the crowd. Back in her subterranean hovel, the hag howls in agony. She sloughs off decayed flesh into a pile at her clawed feet as she extracts the needle from her arm. She emerges newly made, ready for another century among humankind.

Matt Handle lives and writes in Atlanta, Georgia. Follow him at matthandle.bsky.social.