In a moment of weakness, Rascal returned to the site under the bridge that had served as a makeshift home to him in the turbulent weeks that preceded his most recent stint in rehab.
The city had since cleared the homeless encampment, but the smell of human excrement and sour sweat had not been so easily driven off.
Though he knew his innards should have been roiling with repulsion, he could not deny a very real part of him ached for the stench emanating up from the acrid ground to wrap its filthy track marked arms around him. Suckle him to its old familiar breast. Make him whole again.
‘Just one more time.’ He placated himself as the siren needle screamed into his now ravenous flesh.
With that, the tainted earth beneath him gave out a satisfied growl, opened wide its voracious mouth, and swallowed him whole.
This is my response to the photo prompt provided by Crispina Kemp on Crimson’s Creative Challenge this week.