So basically I've been around for awhile, writing here and there but not really sharing anything that I've wrote in the past except now.. And I was understanding that if I wanted to share these old stories I would have to figure out how to not only lengthen them, but to still keep the readers interested in wanting to keep reading. My only hope at this point is to not only freshen them but to keep my stories with the same heart and sense of why I wrote them in the first place.. So please, help me grow and learn again why I not only became a writer but a creator of an imagination where death and horror is only the beginning of a whole new world. -Seafood.
I have often wondered if the more one person knows about life, the darker they become? Is one lifetime enough, for the humans that inhabit this diseased vessel of rock and flesh to evolve into something more? Do the people that continue to live like rats still care about such things amidst the ruin and rubble of what was once, the pinnacle of human evolution? These are questions that even the most sought after theologists couldn't even come close to answering, not that it matters anymore. Anyone that still makes some sort of living is more concerned with being alive, to survive, to remain as part of the living as long as possible.
Looking up from the dark spot in the bar, the glass bottle was empty, with only a trace of the former dark amber liquid remaining. My eyes roaming over the sparse occupants that still remained together over the years. Friends that once were as close as brothers or sisters, were dead, missing, or simply left for something better, never to be heard from again. I Stretched from the cramped position that had held me in my slight drunken state, the ground seemingly steady enough to walk on for the most part.
I was only a face in a million, or that once, was normal. The adventures that I had since the death of man, was not of the ordinary, nor did I ever stop to think about them since they happened. With my increased laziness however, my thoughts become one of thought, of pain, of death. Walking over to the opening of the stairs I felt a hand on my left shoulder. A quick sniff told me that it was of a friend that I both hated, and still somewhat liked. "You don't look so good Stray."
"What makes you think that I care?" I asked without turning around, my back still to him. "I still care, you can't get rid of me that easily." The gentle rise of his voice told me that he was softly smiling. "I don't care Don. Careful with touching me though, I just might cut off that hand of yours and eat it." His hand quickly left my shoulder as I started walking up the stairs, not caring if I hurt his feelings or not. "Crazy psycho.." I heard him mutter as he turned and walked away, leaving me alone with my thoughts once again. The Winchester was a place ran by the name of Warkeeper, a man that was as elusive as he was seen. Here and there for only a few days at a time before his business lead to some latest venture.
A time before hell on earth had broken out, I would of never even thought of going to a bar, let alone one filled with the outcasts of society. A priest is what I was labeled, leading those who once cried out for the absolution of sins to the repentance and grace of God. Even then I could feel the hunger inside of me awaken at times, the hunger that was with me when I tried killing myself at the age of six. Raised in a normal family, with two little brothers and one sister, I was the one they all looked too, a fact that I did little to act upon. For even in my rebellious youth I was still the eldest, and responsible for my younger siblings, a fact that had escaped until it was too late to change.
Opening door number 1361 on the thirty sixth floor, a smell of cinnamon, mint, and dried ruffles washed over me as the door creaked open and I walked in. A familiar smell that I had started using to mask the odor of death, blood, and unwashed flesh recently to keep from being overwhelmed by the stench. Stripping off my clothes I walked into the aged bathroom, yellow and green wallpaper was peeling here and there, the cracked and dirtied mirror above the sink allowed me to see my healing wounds. Ones that I had recently endured to feel that rush of exhilaration envelop my body, the screams of the damned as they fell before me was something that kept me somewhat sane and was serving as a buffer to those around me.
Eyeing the stained and dirtied tub, I grimaced slightly at seeing the caked dirt and decay on the once white porcelain. Turning on the water for the shower, I jumped in without a second to consider the coldness that wanted to numb me. Hot water was a luxury no one could afford anymore, not even a warmonger in this day and age. Wiping the grunge and sticky blood from my brown and white fur, I sighed as this body was one that I had not been born with. A popular thing when the internet was rampant, were the use of animals with human appearances. Furries, I think they were called, a few of the parishioners that had come to me for confession had told me of indulging in such manners and acting out in ways that were not considered, human.
At the time, I had told them that exploration of what the world had to offer was not a sin, but allowing ones own self to accept what they found, was. Cupping my breasts in heated disgust, I could still remember the body of a normal man, a human that had the tendency for some good in his life. One that felt the normal urges of obedience and submission to my flock. Once I felt the cold water numb me even further, I turned off the shower head and stepped out from the tub. The water dripping off of me, quickly locating a clean but dirty towel I dried off quickly and I returned to the clothes that I had taken off. The smell of bodily fluids was ever present, and dirty clothes were better than clean ones if one was to wander the streets and alleys of decay and rust.
The eight by ten square foot room was more than enough for my needs, a bed, a small dresser, and a blackened battered nightstand that held my need for drinking and smoking. Taking out a fresh pack that only had a few missing I took out the lighter from my pocket and lite up. The brand had faded off of the box, but I no longer cared about the safety of my lungs, or the fact that I had hated smoking growing up and that my asthma had acted up whenever I was around smokers. Walking back down the stairs, I could hear one of the still remaining women in the bar getting it on with a man through the hallway from one of the rooms. Not caring to hear the sounds of moans, heavy breathing, and sex, I continued down with stairs until I came to the main bar area.
A few still remained while one or two were gone, Don himself cuddling his tail in a chair as I walked passed him. My eyes not meeting his as I did, "Where are you going?" I could hear the slight pain of emotions as I didn't stop to answer. "Out." It was the only time I could feel anything anymore, the soul, the heart, the mind can all be corrupted with the right ingredients. This apocalypse was only the mixing bowl, and the dullness of everything had only withered away with each passing day. The fast approaching night was beginning to swallow up the remaining light. This was when I felt the most alive, this was when I felt the most powerful, this was when I could hunt those who I sought, the damned, or humans remaining.
As I walked down the street, the sunset was casting longer shadows from the surrounding building and vehicles that were hiding death and the occasional treasure. As I made myself down the street that was milling with the dead, a human walked out of an alley, looking around as he then saw me, sneaking over to me I stopped as I regarded him, his disheveled black hair and blue eyes met mine. A mixture of wonder and distaste swam through him, but approached my anyways. "S'cuse me miss, happen to have a few dollars to spare?" A beggar, the filth of those that were to lazy or weak to find strength on their own. His clothes were as filthy as mine, and his armor had been torn and stained with blood and disuse.
"Sure, but let's go inside." I replied, my heart starting to quicken a little. Once inside the building that had seen better days, I reached into my pocket, his eyes gleamed as he was ready for whatever I was ready to give him. Pulling closer to him, my hand emerged with a small knife and I plunged it into his stomach. This caused him to scream in both pain and horror, as I twisted the blade a few times as he struggled to get away and fell on his back. Tears rolling down his face as he started to cough up blood. "You, you, YOU CRAZY BITCH!" He screamed as I then stomped on his chest, a loud snap told me that one of his ribs was now cracked. Crying even more, his screaming had stopped though.
Leaning down I pinned his struggling body under mine, and smiled as I started grinding my hips against his. "Shhhhh, you don't want to ruin this for me, now do you?" Unable to reply, I took my knife and held it to his throat, right above his vocal cords. His eyes widening as I looked directly into them, this is what I lived for, the fear was intoxicating, kissing him on his bloodied lips I then spoke softly. "Thank you for tonight." With that I stabbed into his chest, again, and again, and again, laughing with the pleasure that rolled through my veins.
I didn't stop until I was slightly drenched in his blood, the corpse now under me was now just another unworthy plaything. Licking the knife and slightly cutting my tongue in the process I lifted my head and howled before getting off of it and making my way out the door. The dead had been alerted to my session but I knew enough to slip right by them. For tonight was just another night, the young full moon making things easier to see with my developed night vision, this was when I felt everything, this was when life was worth living, and this was only another chapter of things to come, for I knew that this was only the beginning of my playtime.