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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/OriontheGuyMan on 2026-05-17 17:24:07+00:00.

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I started feeling hungry an hour before Carrie was set to pick me up. It was seven at night and already getting dark. The concert started at nine. I thought about trying to scrounge up some poor animal and satisfy the craving, but the only thing within an hour’s distance would be someone’s dog, and I’m not prepared to murder some poor old lady’s Yorkshire terrier.

I took a walk outside around the perimeter of the apartment complex, looking at the highway situated below the hill the complex sits on, and trying to find something, anything I could feed on that wasn’t human or someone’s pet.

I did see something, slithering at the bottom of the hill. It was a snake. I walked down the hill and towards it. Startled, it struck me, holding onto the flesh of my hand with its fangs. I felt some sympathy for it. We weren’t too different from one another, both fanged predators wanting to live long lives and needing to kill to do so. I sank my fangs into it, making it my first kill.

It did the trick, but I wasn’t at all full. I had to hope that it would be enough. I couldn’t keep Carrie waiting, not tonight. I was worried about Greg and had hoped he just dozed off. He’s done it before. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. I chose not to think about it. Tonight would be me and Carrie, enjoying music, and each other’s company, and… my mind wandered towards possibilities. I liked her, sure, but I didn’t know as much about her as I wished. We hung out all the time in middle school, though never outside of school. She’d never met my mom, and I never met her parents.

Something or another happened to her mom when we were in eighth grade, and she got really distant from me. We went to the same high school, and it was like she was a totally different girl. She had long hair, did cheerleading, and all sorts of things that were out of character for her. I had a huge crush on her at the time, but looking back I never did see her smile in those four years, not when her team went to nationals, not when Mark had taken her to prom, not at all. During middle school she wore dark colors and dark make up, dyed her hair, all that sort of stuff that your parents tell you is just a phase. Seeing her back to her old self a few days ago had felt refreshing in a way I didn’t expect. There was a lot of time to make up for.

As I waited in the parking lot for her car to show up, I could feel my mom staring down from the small balcony that was attached to our unit. I looked up at her and she was smiling wide. It should be a surprise to no one reading this, but I had never brought a girl to the house at any point in my life. My mother always hit me with that talk parents give to their terminally single children. “You’re such a nice young man. Those girls are missing out.” Things like that. Of course, I always attributed my terminal bachelor condition to my immense awkwardness. Greg had suggested that I should get tested for autism, and if doctors’ offices were open during nighttime hours I might consider it. Greg… I hoped he was okay.

She came in a black Honda that looked to be about as old as my mom. She was blasting death metal. She rolled down the window. “Hey, Alex! Ready to roll?”

“Yeah! Let’s do it!” I looked back and waved to mom. She just smiled down at us. I hopped in the car, and we were off.

As we were driving, there was a silver Honda behind us. I thought I had seen it parked in the lot of the apartment complex before we left. I brushed it off. There were a lot of cars that color, make, and model. I could have easily confused it with any number of other vehicles.

My eyes were on Carrie for a good bit of the ride. She was stunning. She wore black lipstick and eyeliner and had the nastiest looking metal shirt I’ve ever seen with “Cannibal Corpse” plastered in big messy letters on the top. She wore a long sleeve dark striped shirt under it.

“I would never have guessed you were into this stuff in high school,” I said, still surprised by her.

“My dad was less tolerant of my tastes after my mom died.”

I had no idea that her mom had died, just that something bad had happened to her. “When was this? I’m so sorry. I had no idea that she had passed.”

“Eighth grade. I never liked any of that crap I was a part of in high school. Dad made me do it hoping I’d come out normal. I don’t live with him anymore, so I’m choosing to be myself from now on.” She smiled.

“How’d Mark take that?” I regretted asking as her smile vanished immediately. At the mention of his name, she winced.

“Well… it doesn’t matter now, does it.”

We parked outside the venue. It was a little bar at the edge of town called “Ma’s”. The silver Honda parked a couple rows behind us. It unsettled me, but I convinced myself that I was getting paranoid.

“Ready?” Carrie asked, smiling at me.

“Y-yeah. I’m ready.”

We walked up to the entrance. The line was short. Carrie was talking about the band, telling me all sorts of facts and trivia. It was an underground group, so there wasn’t likely to be a lot of people, but the venue was small so it would all even out.

As we got to the front of the line, the staff member, a large gentleman who looked like he ate creatine for breakfast and protein powder for lunch, checked our tickets and IDs before marking our right hands with a black X. I looked back at Carrie, confused.

“Have you never been to a concert before? It’s so we can’t order alcohol from the bar.” I nodded. Alcohol wasn’t what I was worried about drinking. My stomach started growling sometime during the ride over.

We walked in. The light was low. There must have been a hundred or so people inside. It wasn’t terribly crowded, with tables and bars on either side of the floor and a large space in between for the crowd when the music started. There was a merch table on the right side of the stage.

“I brought some money. You want a shirt?” I asked.

“You’re a real romantic, y’know?” She said with a laugh. “Yeah, I’ll take one.” I smiled and blushed at the statement, joke or not. I don’t think she noticed. We entered the line, and towards the end I caught a glimpse of the prices.

Can you believe they charge that much for a shirt? Thirty dollars for a T-shirt. She saw the face I made and laughed. “Having second thoughts?”

“No… I just… didn’t’ realize they were so expensive.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to. I’m flattered though.”

“No, I’ll still get it.”

We came up to the front of the line, and I bought her one with a melting skull and the indecipherable logo of the band printed over the top of it. She threw it on excitedly over her other shirt. I wondered if all those layers got warm. The temperature of the bar was notably warmer than the air outside.

Right as she put it on, the lights dimmed, a soft guitar fluttered through the air hitting classical acoustic melodies with dark undertones which shifted slowly into something sinister, then the distortion kicked in and the lights flicked on. The band was on stage playing the most brutal sounding song I had ever heard in my life.

Carrie lit up. “Come on!” I could barely hear her say as she turned to me before rushing towards the stage. We managed to make it at the metal dividers right up front, the amps blasting so loudly in our ears that I could feel the bass vibrate in my chest. A mosh pit formed behind us. For all those unaccustomed to the wonders of metal, a mosh pit is when a crowd forms a circle and then violently throws themselves at each other.

It got a little close for comfort, as men who came into the pit crashed against us or fell down next to us. I tried forming a barrier between Carrie and the pit. It settled down for a moment as the first track ended.

“Hey everyone! We are The Cerebral Emulsifiers!” the singer yelled into the microphone. “Now, for this next song I want to see you rip this floor up!” They then began playing another even heavier song.

I could feel the pit behind me growing wild, when something sweet entered my nostrils. I turned around. One of the men in the pit, a short lanky fellow, was holding his nose in his hands as someone in the pit helped him to his feet. Blood gushed from his nose.

My stomach growled. My mouth salivated. I saw him exit the pit. I followed the scent instinctively, feeling like I was watching out of someone else’s eyes, like I was merely an observer and not an active participant in what was transpiring. It led me to the bathroom, where I was stopped by a familiar looking older gentleman who looked very out of place.

“Hey, that you Alex?” he said.

“Yeah… who are you?”

“I’m an old friend of your dad’s from church.” He reached out his hand to shake mine, which I confusedly accepted. “Nice to see you again. This sort of stuff isn’t my thing, but my son loves it, so I bought him tickets and drove him up as a birthday present.”

That explanation felt off, but in the absence of other sensible conclusions, I accepted the story. “I gotta get going,” I said. “It was nice seeing you…”

“Peter,” he said. “Name’s Peter. I have to go use the men’s room. Hopefully I’ll see you again soon.”

I had vague memories of my dad going out late at night to meet with the pastor and do work for the church with his friend. I wondered if Peter was the friend. I had probably seen him at church before and not even realized it.

I smelled that sweet scent once more, but it had a different quality to it. I followed it to the bar and found a small rat trap in the corner. Snapp...

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