I still remember the day the headaches started. They were sharp, stabbing pains that felt like my brain was trying to claw its way out of my skull. The doctors said it was an aneurysm, that I was lucky to be alive. But the pain never really went away. And my memories...they started to get foggy. Names, faces, where I put my keys...it was all a struggle.

     I saw a special on the television once. It talked about how eating chicken liver, could actually be beneficial to the health of your own liver. It was an interesting little report. Imagine eating something and absorbing it into your body in a way that it makes your organ better. Good thing all my organs are healthy. Well, aside from my brain… Hmm, I wonder… 

That's when I started hearing the voice. It was quiet at first, just a whisper in the back of my mind. It told me that I could get better, that I could fix my broken brain. All I had to do was eat. Eat the right food, and I could be myself again.

     I knew what it meant, but then I started having these...visions, I guess. I'd see people, happy and smiling. And then I'd see myself, my hands holding a sledgehammer. I'd see their skulls shattering, their brains spilling out. All the reds and the pinks and the blueish greens. the ‘shlopping’ sounds. I'd feel this hunger, this burning need to consume.

     The first time, it was an accident. I was out hiking, and I ran into this couple. They were tourists, lost in the woods. I tried to help them, but the pain spiked, and the voice got loud. It told me to take what I needed, to feed. I don't remember much, but I remember the feeling. The cool flesh between my teeth, the burst of flavor. And for a second, my head was clear. I knew who I was, where I was. I felt normal.

     So, when the fog rolled back in, I went looking for more. It became a regular thing, then more frequent, from monthly, to weekly, to however many days it had been since the last time. Three, I guess? The voice told me where to find them, how to wait until they were alone. It taught me how to use the hammer, how to crack them open like a coconut to get all the good stuff out. And every time, I'd get this flash of clarity. I'd remember things - my childhood, my job, my wife's name. And the pain would be gone. Everything would be quiet. Everything was ‘normal’.

     But it never lasted. The pain always came back, the voice always started chanting again. “Feed, feed, feed”. So I kept hunting, kept eating. I lost count of how many, but I know it wasn't enough. I'm still broken, still foggy.

     I've been hiding in these woods for weeks now. The police are looking for me, but the voice knows how to stay hidden. It knows how to set traps, how to move silent. I'm still hungry, still hunting. Because if I can just find the right brain, eat the right flesh...maybe I'll be me again. Maybe I'll be fixed.

     I hear something moving through the bushes now. Heavy footsteps, snapping twigs. The voice is humming, my hands are tingling. I grip the hammer tight, my heart pounding in my chest. Maybe this one will be the one. Maybe this one will make me whole again.

     I move quiet, the voice guiding me. I see a flash of color, a hiking backpack. My stomach growls, and my mouth waters. I raise the hammer, the voice screaming “yes, yes, yes”. I swing down, and the world goes into slow motion. I see the skull give way to expose the squishy deliciousness, the brains spill out. I feel the hunger roar up, and I dive in, teeth snapping. I’m ravenous. 

     For a second, everything is clear. Everything is silent. I feel no pain. I actually feel nothing. I know who I am, what I've done. I'm the monster in the woods, the thing that needs to eat your brains. The one that wants to eat your brains. I'm the man with the broken head and the endless hunger, and the voice...the voice is laughing. I'm the man with the pain. The man with the sledgehammer, and you're nothing more than a painkiller and a cheap meal to me.