Nights is an especially magical time to take a walk. There is something romantic about the shadows that hide the dirt and grime of a city. Something about night makes it seem that anything can happen.

William felt this very strongly that last night of August. The heat had chased him out of his tiny one bedroom, but he had yet to find a safe haven from the abusive heat. The wrung sweat out of his past prime frame like a washer wringer a cloth.

Sweat rolled down his angular face and he raised an arm to to wipe his greying brow. That was when he saw it. Plain as day, it was there on the corner where none of its kind had been before.

He licked his lips in anticipation and his steps quickened as he approached the object of his deepest desire. A red and white soda machine with the name of his favorite cola decorating the front in back lighted glory. The machine was as tall as he and had many different buttons. It accepted coins and bills and looked like it had just come from the factory.

As he approached he noticed it was up against a solid brick wall, more inside the alley than on the street. Shrugging he reached into the pockets of his sweat dampened shorts for change. He had just enough. It must be the luckiest day of his life!

He carefully put coins in the machine, which digitally displayed the amount he put in. The sound of the coins hitting the bottom of the coin receptacle made his mouth dry in anticipation. Smiling like a proud father, he loving carressed the selection buttons. Finding his favorite he pushed the button.

The smile slowly faded from his face as he pushed the button again. The anticipated beverage had not arrived. His brow furrowed in anger as he put more force behind the push of the button. None of the sold out lights were on. Why wasn't it giving him his drink? The digital display said he had the right amount.

In desperation he slammed the button with his fist. Blood trickled from his knuckles and coated the cover of the button. Still no soda was dispensed.

He started to swear. Each word making him madder and more thirsty. He began to kick and punch the machine. He tried rocking it but it weighed too much for him to move.

Finally, after breaking all the buttons and smearing his blood across the broken from of the machine. After pressing the coin return until it jammed and not once recieving his money back, William's eyes lighted in devilish delight. He had a plan.

A simple trick he learned in his youth, would be appropriate now. He had paid for a soda and, damn it all, he was going to have it.

With the sly look of an overfed fox on his face, he knelt down before the machine. He removed his watch from his left arm and stuck it up the dispenser chute.

He cried out. But not in joy, for he felt a terrible pain as of teeth grinding into his arm. He tried to remove his arm but couldn't get it loose. He felt and heard flesh tear and screamed in agony. He jerked back and his arm came free.

In horror he stared at the bloody stump of his arm. The beating of his heart measured in the fountaining of his blood. Disbelief coated his face while it bathed in his own blood.

He began to rise shakily to his feet when the tongue came out of the machine. It wrapped itself around his arm and yanked him forward. A tentacle that strongly resembled a power cord, wrapped itself around his neck.

William screamed and screamed as the faux soda machine nibbled delicately at the end of his arm. No on came to rescue him. He kicked the machine in desperation. The power cord jerked forward and his head hit the warm, hard body of the "machine."

Tiring of his screams and kicks, the "machine" twisted its power cord tentacle just so. The sound of William's breaking neck echoed down the alley and street. The "machine" dragged its prey further into the alley and fed in delicate solitude. Enjoying the peace and magic of a city at night.

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Last Updated November 13, 1999
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