The train's rumble was distant, barely a whisper in my ear, but it was getting closer. Closer to town, bringing with it... dinner. I could almost smell the meat. The flavors varied each time. Sometimes, a female commuter would get her heel stuck in my grate. As I slithered through the opening, recognition would dawn in her juicy little eyes, and she'd tried to scream. But it was never fast enough. Or loud enough.

Sometimes the meat would be one of the drunks that slept in the tunnels. They weren't nearly as tender as the healthier kills, but easy. Yes, oh so easy to catch. Oftentimes they'd mumble as I slipped up next to them, blithering on like it was a dream. Once I wrapped my body around and took my first bite, they knew. They all knew at some point.

The rumble always brought them, made my mouth water as it grew closer. The screeching brakes were my cue to sweep past the bones of last night's dinner and yesterday's mid-morning snack, winding my way through the tunnels. The lights betrayed my position, but they didn't see. No one ever saw. They didn't want to see. Didn't want to believe in the darkness. So, I hide right next to them. Hungry.

A thud, and then... voices, overlapping voices. Every one of them talking, ignoring what's below their feet.

Hungry.

They'll clear out and leave one. They always leave one. So I wait, and I watch.

Hungry.