Flash fiction: “Q & A.”

“Let me look through your eyes,” he said.
Amused, she took a sip of her coffee, allowing the curve of the cup hide her grin. “Why would you want to do that?”
“To see the world how you see it.”
“Don’t you think that would involve more than just sight?”
“To feel someone else’s tears, then.”
“The tears would be meaningless without the reason why.”
“One could argue that all tears are meaningless.”
“Who would argue that? And what would they gain by it?”
“Does every argument have to gain you something?”
“It might make it worth the effort.”
She took another sip of her coffee. He stared intently at her, though off in the distance. He had yet to touch his tea. If she recalled correctly, he didn’t even like tea.
“If you let me see through your eyes, I will let you feel my pain,” he said.
She put her cup down. This offer intrigued her. “Why would I want to do that?”
“If you need a reason, then the pain is weakened.”
“If we do this, can I pull out if the pain is more than I can bear?”
“All right, then, ti’s a deal.”
They shook hands. She sat back in her chair, looking across the town square. She took her cigarettes out of her coat pocket and lit one. “I’m ready,” she said.
She could still see through her eyes, but she could feel that they no longer belonged to her. She moved her head around to allow him to orient himself to her perspective. Shen she sat straight up so he could see his face with his eyes closed.
“Very good,” he said. “Now it’s your turn.”
Whether he could see anymore through her eyes or not didn’t matter anymore as she closed them quickly, wincing. She tried to take a drag on her cigarette but each time she held it to her lips she cringed. The pain started in her chest but quickly spread across her shoulders, as if somehow her body could become sore from physically lifting a lifetime worth of anguish. She felt nauseous. She wanted to cry out to make it stop but she knew better.
She opened her eyes when the pain stopped.
“I still had your eyes,” he said. “I wanted to know how my pain would look inside someone else.”
“Yes,” she said. She took a long drag on her cigarette, staring at him, raising her eyebrow. “Yes.”

Written in Portsmouth, 10/23/17 around 6:30 p.m.


Friday Flash Fiction: “Santa Claus Versus the Zombies.”

Sister and I couldn’t contain ourselves. We had to rush downstairs to the fireplace to see if Santa brought our presents yet this year. We had a rough year but we knew we could always count on Santa. We never knew exactly when he would come down the chimney with our presents but we knew that he would always come. Even the fact that our parents both died this past year and Sister and I had to survive on our own didn’t kill our faith in Santa.

My friend Timmy said that when his parents died Santa stopped coming. But Timmy was always a bad kid and I think the reason Santa gave him gifts was because of some deal he had with his parents. Timmy was pretty sad and quiet after that Christmas, and when the zombies found him at his house a few days later he didn’t run or fight back like we normally do. I never did see him as a zombie. I think they ate him pretty quickly.

Santa hadn’t arrived yet when Sister and I went and looked. Sister looked sad but I told her that he still had plenty of time to come. Our parents always kept us from going downstairs on Christmas Eve so we never knew exactly when he would come. But we should get ready to hide, though. If Santa saw us he would be very disappointed in us and he wouldn’t leave us our presents. Or maybe next year he would leave less, maybe. Sister and I made it into a game, trying to find a place to hide from Santa. I knew that Santa would still know if we were there anyway, just like he somehow knew if we here good or bad all year. But I wanted to keep Sister happy. That had to count for something, right?

We found good hiding places: she hid behind the grandfather clock, while I jumped under the couch. We usually picked these places when the zombies came by our house. The man on the news—back when there was news—said that the zombies could smell only a little but relied mostly on sight, and if you hid inside your house well enough they couldn’t detect you either way. This seemed to have worked for us. Once, when I had to go down to the cellar to get some canned food I think a zombie might have seem me run by and I had to hide in a closet for about an hour before he left.

Sister and I waited like that in the darkness for what was probably half an hour. We couldn’t stop giggling but we kept shushing each other. It became a language between us, a language of waiting. Finally we heard some scratching at the walls and the front door. It sounded familiar but in the excitement Sister forgot. She immediately jumped out from behind the clock.

“Santa,” she squealed. “He’s coming through the front door!”

“Hide,” I whispered. “It’s not him.”

“Yes, it is. It’s Santa. I’m going to let him in.”

She ran past the couch but too quickly for me to grab her legs. I looked in horror as she opened the front door. But it wasn’t Santa. Standing there in the moonlight was a group of zombies. Sister screamed and ran back into the room as they slowly made their way in. I knew that up close they would smell me anyway so I got out from under the couch. I quickly ran up to Sister and held her. At this point I knew it was my job to keep her calm right up to the end.

Just then we heard some commotion on the roof. It sounded like hoof prints and sleigh bells. In our fear Sister and I didn’t register what it could mean. After the commotion stopped we heard somebody walking across the roof. His footsteps moved faster than the zombies. They weren’t taking their time at all. I guess they didn’t have to. Then we heard something heavy drop down the chimney and land in the fireplace. I looked up.

“Santa!” Sister and I both yelled.

The zombies looked up at Santa. He dusted himself off and picked up the large bag that he was carrying. “Merry Christmas,” he said and then laughed that familiar, jolly laugh. “Well, what do we have here? It looks like you nice kids have run into some naughty people. Well, that’s nothing a little bit of magic won’t solve.” He held the back out in front of him and slowly walked towards the zombies. They all stopped and looked at him. I know that they weren’t supposed to be alive but they looked like they were actually trying to remember him. Could it be that even the zombies know about the magic of Santa?

“Yes, Christmas magic,” he continued. “No matter who you are, or how alive you are, Christmas magic can warm everybody’s hearts. It can fill you with joy, peace and EAT LEAD, MOTHERFUCKERS!”

Santa then whipped the bag away to reveal a machine gun. He quickly mowed down all of the zombies that entered the house. It left a big mess everywhere but we didn’t care. Santa had saved us. He walked over bloody pulps that used to be the walking dead and through the pools of blood in order to close the front door. Miraculously he didn’t hit any of the windows. It didn’t look like there were any more zombies nearby, either.

“Well, that’s all of the zombies I saw on radar in this vicinity,” Santa said. He turned and looked at us. “You are two lucky little children. Well, I must be on my way to my next house.” He headed towards the fireplace. Sister ran up and tugged on his pant leg, stopping him.

“But what about our presents?” she said. “What did you get us this year?”

Santa let out a sigh and said, “Survival.”

“But I wanted a pony.”

Friday Flash Fiction: Busking in Montreal.

I decided to take a break from the vampire story this week to try an experiment. I waited until ten minutes to midnight to write as much as I could before the date changed, in order to still call this a Friday Flash Fiction. I picked a random page on Wikipedia as a writer’s prompt. I got “Songwriters Association of Canada.” I wrote right up until 11:59. That’s why the story ends so abruptly. That’s probably for the better, but it was a fun little experiment, anyway.

I tried to play my guitar but my fingers were too damn cold. The best I could do was strum chords slowly. That’s fine, but I had lost my voice the previous night yelling at a hockey game. At best I looked like somebody warming up, or perhaps just some guy strumming his guitar on the sidewalk for fun. I certainly didn’t look like I was busking, even though I had an empty Tim Horton’s coffee cup sitting out in front of me. The passers-by didn’t seem to notice the cold so much. That’s probably because they were used to these cold Montreal winters. I, on the other hand, was more used to the weather of Florida this time of year.

My Canadian cousin had to get married just after New Year’s. I suppose that would have been fine if my car hadn’t been stolen two nights prior while I was in the arena watching the game. I didn’t even have the directions to the place nor did I have enough money to book into a hotel. My phone had died, so I couldn’t even call for help. I tried going to the police but aside from making a report they weren’t much help. I left and started wandering around without even remembering to see if I could borrow a phone charger. I figured I could raise enough money playing my songs on the curb in order to buy a cheap charger that I could plug in somewhere. But nobody was dropping anything in my coffee cup.

Friday Flash Fiction: A Vampire’s Story, part six.

I ended up not going to the concert after all. Therefore, I’m publishing this week’s flash fiction on time. It is a bit short this evening as I started a bit late and am getting drowsy. But hey, it’s something.

We agreed that our studies would begin the following night. Our conversation in which Ian revealed that he knew that I was a vampire occurred too close to sunrise. I wasn’t feeling the least bit tired as I was unconscious for so long after my fall. However, as I felt the sunlight creep in through the windows I knew that I had to go undercover. Ian said something about not having an appropriate coffin for me, which I found a rather odd thing to say. I had no desire for something so macabre. However, I discovered the reasoning for such an apparatus. No matter how little sunlight entered the apartment, I felt it burn my skin. It was agreed that I would stay in the basement of the apartment building. Nobody ever went down there, they said, especially as the washing machine was broken.

However, a small ray of sunlight burst through a crack in the bulkhead leading to the outside. Even sitting against the far wall where the ray wasn’t directly aiming didn’t protect me entirely. I could stand short bursts in such a dim amount of sunlight, but it became uncomfortable after too long and the thought of spending all of my time until dusk in that light level was unbearable. I found an old blanket in a corner which shielded me well enough. However, once I fell asleep I became restless and occasionally kick an arm out from under the blanket. The sun would catch my hand waking me with a start. My first day’s sleep as a vampire didn’t go very well.

Once evening came I allowed myself to oversleep. Ian never came down to fetch me, thankfully, so I slept until the hunger woke me up.

I should explain that because Ian was my first encounter after feeding since my Reawakening, I never could crave his blood. However, his roommate Robby was a different story. Early on I go the sense from Ian that Robby was a valuable member of Ian’s studies, so I restrained myself until the concoction they called Diet Blood satisfied me. Still, Robby could be a bit of a nuisance, and I could tell that Ian didn’t like him very much. Once the studies were over, or Ian decided to switch partners, I resolved that Robby would be fair game. I wouldn’t hunt him down, exactly, but I wouldn’t feel guilty about drinking his blood, either.

I told Ian about the crack in the bulkhead once I went back up to his apartment. He said he would look into fixing it but he seemed distracted at the time, staring at his computer monitor. He ignored me for a few moments while I stood behind him. Normally I would dwell on his features while he didn’t notice that I was looking at him. His black hair was in a disheveled but jovial state, ending just above a slender, pale neck with youthful skin, which led down to broad shoulders just ripe for the taking. But this time I was antsy, shaking with the sights of first-evening hunger. Eventually I coughed to get his attention.

He looked at me quickly, realized his mistake, and tossed me a vial of Diet Blood. I drank it down quickly. Again, it wasn’t very satisfying in terms of enjoyment but it did the job. After tilting my head back to down the stuff out of its vial, I looked down to find Ian watching me with intense academic interest. I nodded to indicate that I was no longer hungry. He nodded back in acknowledgement, and turned back to his computer. I moved up behind him to see what was so engaging on the screen.

Ian had been researching some vampire folklore. I imagined him up all night, consuming nothing but coffee and cigarettes (indicated by the debris around the desk), reading tale after tale about my mythological kin. He looked up at me and smiled.

“Of course there’s no way in knowing what’s true or not in these old stories,” he said.

“Some of it could be based in fact while some stories are completely made up. But it’s all rather interesting. Incidentally, can you read minds?”

I shook my head. “No, but I haven’t come across many since I woke up in this state,” I said.

“There’s probably all sorts of things that you don’t know you can do. Unfortunately, the powers indicated in everything I’ve read vary widely. Are you familiar with the books of Anne Rice?”

I tried thinking back. While I still couldn’t recall much events about my past life I was certainly aware of certain facts about the world. But I had no recollection of her books. “No, I haven’t.”

“Just wondering. I just finished the new one last week. I take more stock in old folklore, anyway, when it comes to trying to figure out real vampires. There’s more evidence that they were based on true events. Of course, there’s always a level of exaggeration.”

I looked around. “Where’s Robby?” I said.

“He had class this evening. He probably won’t be home for a few more hours. It looks like we’re going to be working together alone.”

I tried to ignore the phrase “working together” and instead focus on “alone.”

He spun around in his office chair to look up at me, his face lit up in excitement.

“Well, let’s start, shall we?”

To be continued….

Friday Flash Fiction: A Vampire’s Story, Part Four.

I did start writing this last night, I swear. Unfortunately, I waited too late and in the middle of writing it I fell asleep. When I woke I decided to put off the rest of this section of the story until the morning. I remember that I dreamed something for the scene, but I forgot what it was. Too bad—I seem to remember it was pretty good.

Before I had a chance to contemplate the half-naked young man I felt two hands grip my shoulders. I suddenly found myself a foot up off of the roof. The creature that grabbed me then spun around and flung me back onto the roof several yards. I slammed on my back but felt no pain. I quickly got up to my feet and instinctively took a battle-ready stance myself.

Before me stood a seven-foot-tall woman, snarling. Her long blond hair had been brushed over her left shoulder, revealing that her head was shaved a few inches above the ears. She wore black and red in what looked to be tattered clothing, but fit on her as if every rip were tailored to her figure. She adopted a nonchalant stance, but her vicious face betrayed her calm posture.

“Stay away from it,” she said. “It’s mine.”

“Fine,” I said. “Only I have no idea what you’re talking about. What’s yours?”

“It’s mine. That which you were drooling over.”

“What, that man?”

She paused for a moment, blinking. Apparently she hadn’t thought of her prey as a human being.

“Yes… yes, that creature you called a man. I can smell what you want from him. He’s not your plaything. He’s my prey.”

“I only just met the man. I never met you before. If you had some claim on him….”

I never saw her move closer to me. I only felt the breeze that shot past my body as I found her standing immediately in front of me.

“I said he’s mine. Leave him alone.”

“Fine, have him. Like I said, I just met him. He means nothing to me.

“You lie. I can still smell your lust.”

“How do you know that it’s not for you?”

She bent her head back and laughed an inhuman laugh. It sounded like five laughs from five different people at once and with more reverberation than what atmospheric conditions around us should normally allow. Whenever she spoke, for that matter, it sounded like there was another voice speaking right along with her, hiding in the back of her throat.

“You don’t lust after me. You fear me.”

“Yes, I fear you. I fear myself.”

She stopped laughing then looked at me, thoughtfully. She then nodded in acknowledgement.

“I can tell that you are new to this. You should fear yourself, what you’ve become. You should fear the potential of what you can do now. Who made you what you are now?”

“I have no idea. I can’t recall any of my live before tonight. I woke up underwater, came to sure, fed once and then met this man, who gave me a ride home.”

“It’s mine!” She backhanded across my face. The force was enough to jerk my head to the side but again, I felt no pain or damage. I decided I had enough. I struck back.

At least I attempted to. She grabbed my hand right before it made contact with her throat. She laughed again.

“My, you are feisty, aren’t you? Tell you what, you want this human so much I’ll make you a deal. You can keep your loverboy if you get me an adequate replacement for my next meal”

“I make no deals,” I said. “I don’t know why I came back from whatever ailed me before, but I’m sure it has nothing to do with collecting debt. Sure, I can feel what you smell I feel, but I can walk away from my feelings just as easily.” I held up my hands to show no tricks, then started backing up slowly. She put her hands to her hips and tilted her head, contemplating me.

“You are new at this, aren’t you?” She said. “You really don’t understand. Your emotions are amplified now that you don’t have what these mortals call “life” getting in the way.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I’m not going to waste time right now explaining it all to you. But for the moment what it means is that you won’t forget this boy so easily. If I kill him I will become your immortal enemy. You will be consumed with rage towards me. Your main modus operandi for centuries will be revenge, even when you forget why. Of course, as you have seen I’m much stronger than you.”

I didn’t want to admit that she was right. I tried fighting my feelings as best I could but to no avail. Thoughts of the young man consumed me. I tried, in those few seconds we stood there in silence on that rooftop, to reason away these thoughts. I had only just met him. What was so special about him, anyway? His one act of kindness to me of giving me a ride… or was that stupidity? Given this strange new world I found myself in, did I even need a reason? For that matter, when I later discovered more about my previous life I found that I never had any such relationships with other men, at least not that I knew of.

I was snapped out of my thoughts by another backhand across my face. She applied less force this time, intending on catching my attention instead of trying to hurt me. I could then notice that her gloved fingers were elongated and ended in points, as if she had claws.

“Are you going to fight me for him or not?” she said.

“I don’t know… how do I fight you?”

She started to move her mouth but didn’t look like she could find the words. She shook her head violently. “Okay, look. I’m going to hold off on him for now, not to be nice but because there’s no point when you have no idea what you’re doing. There’s plenty of other prey on this planet. But I’ll be watching you. When you’re stronger, then we shall meet again. What is your name?”

I opened my mouth with a reflex, as one would when announcing their names. But then I stopped. I had no idea.

“Not your mortal name, your new one. You haven’t even named yourself yet?”

I shook my head.

“Fine. You can be the ‘Unnamed Vampire’ for all I care. I think you’ll be easy for me to find when I want to. For now, farewell.”

Two gigantic bat-like wings sprouted from her back, lifting her high into the air. For a brief moment I could see her silhouette against the moon, then she sped away into the night.

“Wait, can I do that?” I wondered aloud. I strained my back but nothing came. In a fit of passion I decided to see if I could fly towards the young man’s house. I ran towards the end of the roof and jumped.

It didn’t take me long to land, face first, onto the pavement below. I may be immortal now but I can certainly be rendered unconscious.

To be continued….

Friday Fiction: A Vampire’s Story, Part Three.

The car screeched to a halt, with the bumper just a few inches from my legs. I stood still with my arms covering my eyes. It only offered slight relief. I could still feel the burning sensation throughout my body. It hurt to move even slightly, including my legs—I was riveted to the spot. The most I allowed myself to do was let out a loud shriek. Later on I realized that the sound was like nothing I have let out before my Reawakening, or since. The driver hurried to get out of the car and run towards me. “Jesus Christ,” he said. “Are you okay?”

“The lights!” I said. “Turn off your lights!”

“What?” He stood there, confused.

“Turn off those damn lights!”

He rushed back in and turned off the headlights. It felt as if I had just stepped out of an oven into the Arctic, yet without the shock that I assume the “Normals” (the term I’ve learned that my kind tend to use for mortals) would feel in their bodies. Instead, my relief was instant, and my wounded skin healed quickly. It’s a feeling that I’ve learned to replicate at will and without any permanent damage to my being. Much like how some people turn the heat in their shower just slightly hotter than they can comfortably handle for a sense of pleasure, I’ve come to enjoy the sensation of healing my burnt skin.

The driver came back out to me. “Are you okay, man?” he said.

“Yes, I think so.” I lowered my arms and looked myself over. I wasn’t a large man but I was surprised that my voice was so deep. Was it always so?

“Dude, I’m so glad I didn’t hit you. That was close. But you shouldn’t run out in front of moving traffic like that.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just… a bit disoriented right now.”

“Ah, drank a little too much, did you?”

I thought back to the man I had just fed upon. I did feel a little full and queasy. “Yes, I suppose I had.”

“Hey, it’s okay. We all have those nights once in a while. Do you need a ride? Do you live far from here?”

“Where am I, exactly?”

“Well, this is the waterfront. Harmon Street.”

“No, I mean, what city is this?”

“Are you serious? You must be out of it more than I thought. This is Port Town, man.”

I thought for a moment. Something about the way that he talked struck me as significant.

“Your accent. It’s quite intriguing.”

“My accent?”

“Yes, the way you lazily drop the r’s at the end of words.”

“Oh, my Maine accent, you mean.”

“Ah, yes, Maine. I’m in Maine.”

A series of fragments of memory flashed through my mind just then. I remembered that I was in Maine, that I was in fact from here. I don’t think I was from Port Town, exactly, but I remember being from Maine myself. Yet my accent wasn’t quite as pronounced as his. I chose not to dwell on manner of speech any longer. I got the information that I wanted.

“Wow, dude. Are you staying with anybody that can take care of you?”

“I, uh… no. I think I live alone.”

“Listen, I would love to figure this out with you, but I’m kind of parked in the middle of the road here. I know it’s two in the morning, but I’m technically blocking traffic. Do you know where you need to go? You look harmless enough. I can give you a ride, if it isn’t far.”

“Which way are you headed?”

“Green Street.”

“Yes, that’s it. I was headed there, myself. I’m staying with a friend there.”

I lied, of course. There was something about this man that intrigued me. If I hadn’t fed already I probably would have thought of him more as my next meal. But there was something about him that felt familiar. But even if he wasn’t, and that line of thinking was a dead end, I grew fascinated by him. His height, his slender figure, his dishevelled brown hair, his loose clothes…. He was everything that I wasn’t, or felt that I wasn’t. Seeing him in person made me realize what the contrast of his style would be, and I wanted to adopt that style for myself. But at the same time it worked on him. I felt drawn to him.

He looked at me suspiciously. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Once you mentioned the street it came back to me. I have a friend that lives there. I can’t remember the address but I’m sure I’ll find it. It’s not that big a street, is it?”

“No, no. It’s only a side street. Well, come on, get in.”

I got into the passenger seat while he sat down next to me. The car smelled of stale cigarettes and coffee, both of which sat in the cup holders next to me. He must have seen me look down at them, so he smiled apologetically.

“Sorry if you don’t like the smell. Bad habits, you know.”

“Sure, no problem. It doesn’t bother me.” It really didn’t. I would discover over time that no smell or taste truly offended me. Bright colors bothered my eyes a little, but otherwise no sensory data bothered me. I could shrug off even pain if I knew in the back of my mind the cause didn’t threaten my life.

He turned on the car and put it into gear. He turned down a radio station that played some sort of electronic music, although he didn’t replace the noise with talking for a while. Instead we went along in the small town in darkness. He took a left that took us up a steep hill. It turns out that the waterfront was the most built up area of the town, which was mostly sub-rural until one got to the highway, where there were a few shopping plazas. The closest Green Street had was a convenience store that was apparently open all night, as they were still serving customers when we drove past. He slowed down to a crawl.

“Does anything look familiar yet? ‘Cause, my house is right here.”

“Vaguely. Go ahead and park. I’ll recognize the place when I come to it.”

He parked outside his building and got it. I followed suit.

“Well, hey, man. Have a good night. Get some sleep.”

“Of course. Sorry if I was such a bother.”

“No bother at all.” He walked up to his front door and disappeared into an old, dilapidated apartment building.

I turned and walked further to avoid suspicion. I doubt anybody could be watching, however, as there were no street lamps. I could see perfectly but I didn’t want to risk somebody turning on a light and seeing me. I quickly turned into a parking lot for another apartment building. I climbed up the side of the building with great, but by this point not surprising agility. I got to the roof, turned around, and watched his. A light came on and I could watch him in his bedroom. He began to undress. I licked my lips, then remembering that they were still covered in the other man’s blood. But I didn’t feel hungry.

To be continued.

Friday Fiction: A Vampire’s Story, Part 2.

For part one, see yesterday’s post.

At first I didn’t know what exactly I was hungry for. I just knew somehow that the man I had just made eye contact with had what I wanted. I followed him, keeping my distance at first. He had a brisk step but wasn’t in any hurry. I kept pace with him for minute or two before I realized that the only footsteps I heard on the sidewalk were his. Was it the water in my shoes? Was I a ghost? I let these and other questions pass through my mind while I kept focused on the man in front of me.
Finally he stopped. I stopped as well, at the same distance behind. He looked to his right, although I did not attempt to move out of his sight. He blinked with a confused look in his eye but made no concerted effort to show that he saw me. Instead he turned his head about face and resumed walking. I kept my distance but noticed that this time he picked up the pace. As our speed increased so did my hunger. I still knew that he had what I wanted. I could see that he didn’t carry any food. No, somehow I desired something inside him. And I began to suspect that he wasn’t going to give it to me willingly.
We neared the end of the sidewalk, and thus the end of the lampposts. There was a dirt path that led up a hill into a street with what looked like commercial buildings lining it. I didn’t know what time it was, but it didn’t matter. I felt more alive that night than what the rest of the world looked like. The man entered that path, briefly walking into darkness. I feared that I wouldn’t be able to see him once I, too, left the reach of the lamppost we just recently passed. Yet when I set foot on that path I found that even though I could tell it was darker there, I was able to see everything in greater detail. The man slowed as he went up the hill. I still had no idea if he knew if I was behind him. I didn’t care. I knew that in the darkness I had an advantage over him. I also knew that that meant it was time to strike. Soon he would be up on that street, and I didn’t know how many people might pass by to witness what was about to happen—not that I quite knew what was going to happen yet. I just knew that the closer I got to him, the more would come to me.
I darted up the hill towards him. I still didn’t hear my footsteps, but I did feel a gust of wind fly by me towards him. He must have felt it as well, for he stopped. He turned around just as I leapt up in the air. He put his hands out before him as he made an exclamation, but no avail. I grabbed his arms as I pounced on him, pushing him towards the ground. I held his wrists together in one hand while I put my hand over his mouth. It stifled the scream so that only the two of us could hear it. He kicked, and I could tell that there was quite a bit of strength in his kicks, but they didn’t move me at all.
It suddenly came to me as to what I had to do. I slowly held the wrist up to my mouth. His eyes went wide as I bit into a vein. Then I drank. That voice in the back of my mind returned. It told me that I shouldn’t have enjoyed the iron taste as much as I did. But I resolved to ignore that voice starting then and there. The rush of blood into my own system felt not only satiable but somehow euphoric. It not only fed my body but rejuvenated my psyche. I felt more awake and alert. I was able to take in my surroundings more fully.
As such I saw that once I let my teeth off of his wrists the man stopped struggling. I realized that I had killed him. The voice told me that I should have felt guilty yet somehow I felt no remorse over what I had done. I let go of the wrists, noticing that there were two small puncture marks in the one I had bitten. They looked very similar to the ones on my own neck. I put my hand up to my teeth and discovered that instead of what I considered normal human teeth, I had two fangs on either side of my upper set.
I stood up and looked down at the corpse in front of me. Even though we had struggled his suit looked to be in much better condition than my own clothing. I quickly stripped down and took a moment to wipe the blood off of my mouth and hand with my t-shirt. I discarded them into some nearby bushes and began to carefully take the clothes off of the man on the ground. As I put it on it didn’t quite fit my body type completely but all in all it covered my own body adequately. The shoes weren’t quite right but they would do until I could go get something better. I took one more look at the corpse and realized that it looked somehow shriveled. How much blood did I drain from him? I decided to give it no more thought.
It suddenly occurred to me that I could stay in that place for very long. I knew by this point that I was superior in strength and agility than the average person but I didn’t yet know my own limits. I didn’t want to find out by getting caught. I decided to continue up that path towards the street. At least there I might be able to remember some landmark to tell me where I was. If not, at least I could find some way around. It wasn’t like I was lost in the wilderness somewhere.
The hill gave me no problem. I noticed that I made my way up more swiftly than I had before I fed. I started to feel giddy, in fact, and started running briskly. I let out a howl which dissolved into a maniacal laughter. I lost control.
As a result I didn’t realize that I had not only left the path but ran across the sidewalk out into the road. It would figure that in that otherwise deserted street that I ran right in front of the only moving car.
I stopped and stared right at it. The idea of getting hit by that car caused no fear in me. However, the headlights were much more intense than those lampposts that dimly lit my way on the sidewalk by the water. The pain, the burning sensation was too intense for me to bear. I couldn’t move out of the way. I smelled smoke, and notice that it came from my exposed hands and face. I covered my eyes with my forearms as the car sped towards me. Then and there I felt like I was going to die, not by impact but by burning to death.