The Passenger

Why do human beings want to live forever? Beats me, it's not all it's cracked up to be. Hell, after a few thousand years, most go crazy. Me? I haven't gone crazy yet.

Who am I? I am who ever my current host is, I guess you could say. My parents didn't give me a name. I just inherited all their knowledge and life-experiences from both of them. Which means I have a lot of information. Some of it useful, some of it not. Most of it didn't make any sense until I had my own life-experiences to relate it to.

Yet, here I am, still living among you. I've been worshipped as a god. Bowed down before by you as a Pharaoh, a king and a queen. I've been a man, but I prefer to be a woman. With men, as long as there's sex involved, they'll go with you. You don't even have to be pretty.

Who am I now? I'm currently a single mother with two kids. Or at least, that's how it appears. Because you see my host, not me, because I live inside my host.

I'm a parasite, but I don't live off my host. That would be counter productive. But I do feed off other human beings. Don't worry, I don't have to kill my prey to feed. Even though, the best feeding is achieved by sucking the prey dry of its life force. If you suck the prey dry, the feeding last between a decade to a quarter of a century depending upon the age and health of the prey. The younger and healthier the prey, the better the feed. That's why virgins were often sacrificed to us.

The way I do it, I select men between twenty and fifty years of age. The feed last between three to five years. It means I have to hunt more often, but there's no trail of bodies either. Just a guy here and there that thinks I'm kinky, or rather that my host is kinky. But I don't hunt in the town I live in. I drive out of town, and move every decade or so.
I only stay with a host about half a century now. The benefits of being a host are excellent health and longevity. How do you think those guys in the bible lived so long? The blessings of being a God fearing man? Please.

Not that you don't have creators, you do. They invited us here because we would give you excellent health and longevity. Our realm was imploding, they offered us refuge here in your realm on your world.

They hadn't meant for you to grow old and die. But they are feeding off your souls after all.
That's right folks, and for those that are a little slow, I'll put it bluntly. You are not the top of the food chain. The reason you grow old and die is because your creators are constantly feeding on your souls.

They've gone by many names: Zeus, Apollo, Hera, Aphrodite, Ra, to name a few. And they did interact with you in the beginning, or rather what you think of as the beginning. You can even reproduce with your creators. you were after all created in their image. But it's been a long time since you've reproduced together. The last guy that was born of such a union, you now call your Savior and pray to him. Not that he's not capable of hearing your prayers. But come on people, do you really think he's listening? Well, maybe once in a great while just for a laugh.

I wonder what they do over there on their side of the veil to keep themselves busy. They're not here hunting to survive, that's for sure.

And sometimes I think they made you way too intelligent for your own good. figuring out your average life expectancy, counting and keeping track of each other like cattle. That's why I have to change host about every fifty years. If the villagers got suspicious because we didn't seem to be aging, we just moved on, went some place else. Sometimes we even faked our own death. No body in a burnt down house, no problem. Not possible these days.

These days, by the time I get my host's life in order and we're finally living comfortably, it's time to go to a hospital and pick out a new host.

Yes, a hospital is the best place to find a new host. There are plenty of unconscious people. Where do you think miraculous recoveries come from? God? Not that your creators aren't capable of healing you and extending your lives, but they don't bother with that anymore. You do very well at it yourselves now anyway.

When I found my current host, she was in the hospital having a paldynado cyst removed. Not necessarily a life threatening condition, but very painful. She was thirteen. I thought: "Cool, teenage guys are always horny. My next feed is going to be so easy."

And it was easy. The only problem is the only reliable form of birth control is abstinence. So, in the process of getting myself fed, I got my host pregnant at fifteen. Not me personally, but me, as in, I was in control that night. I was driving the car so to speak.

There was a time when humans volunteered to be the host for my kind. And lined up begging to be the human sacrifice, eager to be the one to die while being embraced by a god. And just for the record, I wasn't the one who told that lie. One of your own creators said we were gods too. And adoration is fun for a few centuries. Then it starts to get monotonous.

I think it may be the monotony that drives some of us crazy. And one of us gone crazy inside one of you is a bad thing. Children, can you say Hitler? Count Vlad the Impaler? Nine Eleven? How about Jack the Ripper? Child Corpse Collecting Chad? Harold the Human Skin Collector?

You guys don't need any help killing each other. And when one of us goes nuts, we manage to take out a lot of you in all kinds of ugly ways. We try to police ourselves, but we're not as good at counting ourselves as you humans. I just know there are a lot more of you than us. And when one of us goes crazy, it has to be terminated. We usually do that by preventing it from getting a new host if their current host dies. You can keep a dead host's body animated about four hours. But you're integrated into your host. You're part of him or her. Part of their immune system, connected to their brain and spinal cord, to their intestines. Our tendrils are connected all over the place, including the respiratory system. I need oxygen too.

So, if you can't get out of your dead host, you expire too. You can heal a lot of things for your host including most cancers. I've healed damage that would of killed them otherwise. But I can't fix stuff like decapitation or a severed limb. We all have our limits.

Yet, I miss the good old days when my hosts were partners who shared thoughts and feelings with me, when we made decisions together. All my knowledge, was their knowledge too.
Now, They never know I'm there. I sneak into their body while they lie unconscious in a hospital bed. It's better if they're unconscious. No matter how you enter the body, it's uncomfortable, even quite painful if they fight you. And you do damage on the way in, but I heal it quickly. With men, there are only two ways to enter, orally or anally.

I know, eew, gross. I guess that might be why I usually choose a female host. Entering the body vaginally is easier than orally or anally. Less discomfort to the host too if you enter vaginally.

My first host was a young girl of eleven, a virgin. Don't ask me why they liked to use virgins for everything. It's certainly not necessary. But Cleo was so brave. She received me on her knees, opened her mouth willingly, never flinched, never screamed. Of course, the fact that she didn't struggle means she didn't suffer any pain, just momentary discomfort. I loved her very much. So many centuries ago, yet I still miss her very much.

The thing about going into a hospital and choosing a host is that you don't know everything you're getting. Take my current host for example. I really love and like her. She's awesome. But when I got her at thirteen, she had already been molested by a preacher as a preschooler. And just a few months before I got her, she had been raped at a party in her own home while her mother was downstairs partying. Her mother's a fairly functional addict. Her father is a drug pushing pimp, who spent most of her childhood in prison. She was a little suicidal when I got her. But I helped her through, subtly, of course.

She's not aware of me exactly. She's aware of me in the way that she's aware of her conscience, or rather she thinks I am her conscience. I whisper to her. She hears me the way she hears her own thoughts. And when she argues with me, she just thinks she's arguing with herself. But she's such a good person, a lot of internal strength and endurance.

When we got pregnant when she was fifteen, I say we, because you have to remember, I become an integrated part of my host. I hear with her ears. I see with her eyes. I touch with her hands. I experience everything she's experiencing: the good, the bad, and the Why me?
Yet finding yourself pregnant at fifteen... She was so scared. Her mother offered to take her for an abortion, but she didn't even consider it, decided to keep her baby. Her mother offered to sign papers so she could drop out of high school because she had the baby. But she didn't go for it. She stuck it out and got her high school diploma. Then got her bachelor's degree through a university partnership program at the local community college. Had her second child a year before she earned her bachelor's. That pregnancy didn't have anything to do with me. She was in a relationship with what we both thought was a nice young man. But his reason for dumping her was the pregnancy. What an ass! I should of fed on him and sucked him dry. Bastard!

My girl can't catch a break. Rotten parents, irresponsible fathers, two kids with special needs, beat up old transport, and she doesn't give up. She just keeps trying, keeps pushing forward. She's intelligent, honest, hard-working and reliable.

She's got herself some religion now. I can't say I'm exactly happy about it. Except it gives her hope. So, I'm not going to rain on her parade in this area. I've only ever lived in this area of the realm. For all I know, maybe you creators have some sort of paradise waiting for you all after you die. I have no trouble saying my girl deserves such a reward.

Except this new religion is going to be a problem for me. It's so strict. We're not allowed to have any fun. No coffee, no cigarettes, no booze. My girl's not a drinker, but I like to have one once in a while. I like the fruity ones.

Here's the big problem, she took a vow of chastity... Chastity!.. During sex is the easiest way to feed. Of course, I really enjoy sex too... I can manage to feed during hot and heavy making out. But she's not even allowed to do that.

I hate to totally take over and drive. That leaves her with a blank spot like a black out. Then if she finds out what happened while I was driving, she'll be afraid she's becoming a nut job like her mother. I don't want her to doubt herself. She's vulnerable and fragile as it is. And she's so lonely. She's hoping that if she's a good girl, God will finally reward her with her soul mate.

I'm not even sure I believe in such a thing as a soul mate. But I guess it's possible. My parents were in love. Said it was very rare for us to find someone to endure eternity with. My parents died when their hosts were beheaded. I have a sibling I haven't seen hide nor hair of in a few centuries. I have no idea if my sibling is even still alive. It's been nearly two centuries since I've come across another like me.

How would I know if another like me was in the room? Scent. Your noses are more sensitive than you think...

Okay, I want my host to be happy. She deserves it. And if she meets Mr. Perfect for Her, then what? I don't want to feed off her mate. A feeding that last me three to five years knocks up to a decade off the prey's life. I don't want to her to be a young widow because of me. But she's not the type to cheat. I'ld have to take over and drive... Hell, a lot farther than just the next town over. Because if it got back to him, it would ruin her marriage. And believe it or not, I'm trying to help make her life better, unlike her own parents. We don't talk to them anymore and have moved about as far away as we can get.

My girl has big brass ones. I gave her the idea it was time to move again and she ran with it. She spent a year preparing, packed up her kids, rented a twenty-four foot long U-haul and started driving.

Everything didn't go as planned. Yet, we've managed to land in a decent area. We haven't been here a whole year yet. And because of her rough upbringing, she's slow to make friends. She has trouble trusting people. But we're going to make it.

I have always managed to help my host build better lives for themselves. It would make me very happy if by the time I'm ready to seek a new host, she had a good mate to spend the rest of her life with and a nice fat retirement. She's never had a real vacation. I'ld like to see her get that. There's so much I wish I could share with her, let her know she's not alone.
I hate it when she cries herself to sleep at night. She's a quiet crier. She doesn't want her kids to know how lonely and scared she is. She's afraid that no one matter how hard she tries, her life will always be a living nightmare.

I want to tell her she is one of the bravest women I've ever known. Every bit as brave as my first host, Cleo. And braver than any male host I ever had.

I have found males to be unbelievably insensitive. A male will tell a woman he's gotten pregnant, without batting an eye, "It's not my problem," or "Get rid of it," often both. Like his own child is an unwanted litter of puppies or kittens. The laws protect pets better than they do children.

I did admit I prefer to have a female host, didn't I? That's because women are truly the strong ones. There isn't anything my current host wouldn't do to make life better for her children. For most males, their whole focus is themselves and their third leg.

Sorry, didn't mean to male bash. But remember, I have centuries of personal observations and experiences, centuries.