Feeding Time

He picked up the shoe, a running shoe with sports branding on the side, a swoosh or swoop or something like that. It felt heavy. Inside the shoe was a foot, bone and flesh exposed, torn from a body that supposedly should be around here somewhere. With a sigh he tossed the shoe and foot into the burlap sack he carried over his back. Seems like this happened every day now. Damn kids come here to tease the monster, and someone gets eviscerated, or eaten. Maybe that’s what happened. Maybe that’s why he can’t find a body. Guess I should feed it more often.