Disclaimer: Not my sandbox, the characters herein belong to United Artists and other professional parties, I just wandered through. This story takes place a long time after the events of "Jeepers Creepers 2", and from the star's point of view .. Thanks, let me know what you think.

My first thought is, how long I have I been here? It would seem like ages, if I were still human. And I haven't been human, not for a long, long time. My guess is it's been about twenty years or so - probably closer to twenty-three, since I feel myself growing stronger again, like I do every when it's time to awaken. I've woken up a tad early this time, it's not the time just yet, but that's not a bad thing. I'm shaking off the cobwebs of two-plus decades when I first feel it.

My wings - they hurt. I can't flap them, not yet anyway. They feel like they're being restrained by something; something sharp, something that's punched through them. It's more of an irritation than real pain, but regardless it will change once my hibernation fully ends. My limbs feel heavy, as if I've been suspended in some fashion for days on end. It's not as if my body will have atrophied, but I also remember the sensation of not being quite whole when last I slumbered.

I don't recall everything of my last excursion - just the cornfields and the night, and that yellow metal shell and the soft morsels inside. Now that was a feast - I'd lick my lips if I could, but my jaws and entire face are still constrained by the protective membrane that emerges from the back of my skull when I'm threatened or when it's time to sleep. I remember the final anguish of that last time out - especially the agony of having limbs ripped loose in that pickup crash and the aftermath, before I could eat and fix my injuries.

I remember that older human standing over me before it was all done, puncturing me over and over with a spear, liquid black spilling forth from my guts and agony lancing through my chest until, almost mercifully, I could feel my systems shutting down and the light fading away as I slipped into my cocoon. I was never so happy to sleep in all my second life as that time, just to know the pain would go away. My last thought was my desire to kill my tormentors - and then nothing, until now.

I wish this wrap swathing my head would melt away - I can't see at all, although I can hear muffled human voices below. A few of them are new but a couple of them are almost familiar, as if I've heard them before long ago. I focus my still-waking concentration and now I can make the voices out more clearly - and one of them I definitely know.

"So what are you waiting for?"

This one is young and unknown, it's one I know I've never tried to eat before. I can't say that about the next one, although I can feel the age and weariness surrounding it now.

"Three more days." A short pause, and then the man finishes. "Give or take a day or two."

I know that voice. He's older now, but it's him. The one who crippled me before it was time to rest. Harpooned me while I was aloft, then stabbed me when I was down. Halted my feast before my twenty-three days were up. Bastard.

Now I know what I'm going to do when I wake up.

I'm going to kill this man. Going to kill his other son, too, whom I'm sure is one of the other voices I heard, although I can tell he's older now, too. Handle him like I did his little brother, the memory of that incident making me smile a little. I snatched that little blonde boy right up in broad daylight, carried him away like that teenager in the night, and there was nothing anyone could do but gape mindlessly.

I'm going to finish what I should have finished two decades ago - and if they still have a dog, well, I might just make dessert of that, too, before I go. Three weeks to be out and about isn't much time, and again I'll just have to make the most of it.

I wish I could just rip loose now and slaughter everyone here, but even I have rules I have to follow. I have to wait twenty-three years between meals, but I can feel my limbo is drawing to a close. I know I'm going to need repairs, but I've always been a fast healer. My eyes should be OK, thanks to that kid I followed awhile along with his useless bitch of a sister.

I haven't survived this long by being brittle, and this emergence should follow suit. I smile again, even with the membrane encasing my head, not that they can see it, but I'm delighted. And hungry.

Yes, three more days. Give or take a day or two.

END