TITLE: Might Find It
AUTHOR: Sanguinary
COPYRIGHT: Feb. 28, 2001
DISTRIBUTION: Ask and ye shall receive.
RATING: R
CATEGORY: Horror
IMPROV: Flow, Rave, Blue, Fall
SPOILERS: General Buffy/Angel spoilers
DISCLAIMER: Joss and the WB own both Buffy and Angel. Not me.
FEEDBACK: Most excellent! Send it care of: Sanguinary_515@hotmail.com
SUMMARY: Talking to strange people is not a good idea. They just might end up being something
you didn't expect. Or didn't want.
~
Hey there, where you going?
Come over here. I've got a little tale to tell.
So, you come to this place, looking for a real vampire? You've got yourself one.
Am I lying? Does my face look like I'm lying?
Why do afraid? Does the truth frighten you? Or is it just my face? My gold eyes and my brow?
Pay no mind child.
Oh, you're trembling like a leaf and you still want to ask my something. Well why not.
One question dear. Make it good.
You want to know what death is to me? Excellent question. There may be more than stuffing in
that skull of yours.
Art.
Yes. Art. You need an example? I've got plenty.
A cut throat is a thing of beauty. The way the blood trails down the throat, leaving red lines.
The sluggish flow as the heart slows down and begins to stop. A smile born between two ripped
pieces of skin looks up at me.
And the sound of bones breaking is like breakfast cereal. Snap, crackle and pop they go. Sharp
white poking though flesh, like wires sticking out of a car seat.
You can use the human body for many things. Entrails make wonderful skipping ropes if drying
properly. Eyeballs can be marbles and they can be appetizers. A bladder becomes a balloon, a
heart the main course. The skull can be a paper weight, a goblet or a candy dish. A ribcage is
good for a bird cage and if you separate the vertebra in the spine, you can play tiddley-winks.
Human skin can bind books, create a waterproof jacket, or make a tablecloth. You can make a
necklace out of teeth. And ropes from their hair.
But the chase is the most fun. Watching them run, listening to their hearts pound and their
breath come in short gasps. The steady pound of their feet against the ground and the shish of
their skin against the air. And when they stumble, when they trip and fall to the ground in a
boneless heap, it is so fun to watch them try to get back up.
When you pounce, feeling your body become one with the predatory instinct inside, when you
scream, it is heaven. The stink of fear and pain from the prey is intoxicating and inticing,
urging you to bite in their firm skin and tear them apart, bit by bit.
And the look on their face. Oh the look of terror and pain, mixed with the realization that
they are going to die. That they are just like every other piece of flesh on the planet. The
knowledge that their God or Goddess does not give a shit about them. Now that is something that
can't be bottled up and shared. It's a treat that only the prey and predator ever know.
The kill is sometimes fast, sometimes slow, but it is always different. Some prey give up right
way, some fight right to the end. Some beg, some deny, some accept. Some welcome my embrace
while others scream as they try to free themselves. But it's always new and it's always real.
I've done everything one can to a human body. I've eaten it, scared it, kept it, pulled it to
pieces, buried it, everything. I've floated in pools of blood so deep that I couldn't touch the
bottom. I've been covered in piles of rotting flesh and pus. I've waited beside a decomposing
body until there was nothing left of it but dust. And I've felt flesh turn from warm to cold in
my arms. Skin that turns from pink to blue to green as time goes by.
I've killed humans and I've killed demons. Everything that can be killed, I have killed. When
you're immortal, time just flies. And you can do anything.
Anything.
Sometimes, I choose a person. And then, I track them down.
Slowly.
I kill their family one by one, leaving piece for them to find. A father's head stuck on the
garden post. A brothers hand wedged inside a sister's head, his fingers poking out though the
eyesockets. A mother's torso left in their closet, the organs emptied out and a dead child
inside.
Why?
Why do I kill without reason? Why to I beat and main? Why do I feast upon corpses and fill
myself with their blood? Why do I stand here, frighting you? Why?
Because. I. Can.
And that, my dear victim, is why I love being a vampire.
I could rave about this all night long.
But I'm too hungry.
And you're looking mighty tasty, dear child.
Mighty tasty.
~
AUTHOR: Sanguinary
COPYRIGHT: Feb. 28, 2001
DISTRIBUTION: Ask and ye shall receive.
RATING: R
CATEGORY: Horror
IMPROV: Flow, Rave, Blue, Fall
SPOILERS: General Buffy/Angel spoilers
DISCLAIMER: Joss and the WB own both Buffy and Angel. Not me.
FEEDBACK: Most excellent! Send it care of: Sanguinary_515@hotmail.com
SUMMARY: Talking to strange people is not a good idea. They just might end up being something
you didn't expect. Or didn't want.
~
Hey there, where you going?
Come over here. I've got a little tale to tell.
So, you come to this place, looking for a real vampire? You've got yourself one.
Am I lying? Does my face look like I'm lying?
Why do afraid? Does the truth frighten you? Or is it just my face? My gold eyes and my brow?
Pay no mind child.
Oh, you're trembling like a leaf and you still want to ask my something. Well why not.
One question dear. Make it good.
You want to know what death is to me? Excellent question. There may be more than stuffing in
that skull of yours.
Art.
Yes. Art. You need an example? I've got plenty.
A cut throat is a thing of beauty. The way the blood trails down the throat, leaving red lines.
The sluggish flow as the heart slows down and begins to stop. A smile born between two ripped
pieces of skin looks up at me.
And the sound of bones breaking is like breakfast cereal. Snap, crackle and pop they go. Sharp
white poking though flesh, like wires sticking out of a car seat.
You can use the human body for many things. Entrails make wonderful skipping ropes if drying
properly. Eyeballs can be marbles and they can be appetizers. A bladder becomes a balloon, a
heart the main course. The skull can be a paper weight, a goblet or a candy dish. A ribcage is
good for a bird cage and if you separate the vertebra in the spine, you can play tiddley-winks.
Human skin can bind books, create a waterproof jacket, or make a tablecloth. You can make a
necklace out of teeth. And ropes from their hair.
But the chase is the most fun. Watching them run, listening to their hearts pound and their
breath come in short gasps. The steady pound of their feet against the ground and the shish of
their skin against the air. And when they stumble, when they trip and fall to the ground in a
boneless heap, it is so fun to watch them try to get back up.
When you pounce, feeling your body become one with the predatory instinct inside, when you
scream, it is heaven. The stink of fear and pain from the prey is intoxicating and inticing,
urging you to bite in their firm skin and tear them apart, bit by bit.
And the look on their face. Oh the look of terror and pain, mixed with the realization that
they are going to die. That they are just like every other piece of flesh on the planet. The
knowledge that their God or Goddess does not give a shit about them. Now that is something that
can't be bottled up and shared. It's a treat that only the prey and predator ever know.
The kill is sometimes fast, sometimes slow, but it is always different. Some prey give up right
way, some fight right to the end. Some beg, some deny, some accept. Some welcome my embrace
while others scream as they try to free themselves. But it's always new and it's always real.
I've done everything one can to a human body. I've eaten it, scared it, kept it, pulled it to
pieces, buried it, everything. I've floated in pools of blood so deep that I couldn't touch the
bottom. I've been covered in piles of rotting flesh and pus. I've waited beside a decomposing
body until there was nothing left of it but dust. And I've felt flesh turn from warm to cold in
my arms. Skin that turns from pink to blue to green as time goes by.
I've killed humans and I've killed demons. Everything that can be killed, I have killed. When
you're immortal, time just flies. And you can do anything.
Anything.
Sometimes, I choose a person. And then, I track them down.
Slowly.
I kill their family one by one, leaving piece for them to find. A father's head stuck on the
garden post. A brothers hand wedged inside a sister's head, his fingers poking out though the
eyesockets. A mother's torso left in their closet, the organs emptied out and a dead child
inside.
Why?
Why do I kill without reason? Why to I beat and main? Why do I feast upon corpses and fill
myself with their blood? Why do I stand here, frighting you? Why?
Because. I. Can.
And that, my dear victim, is why I love being a vampire.
I could rave about this all night long.
But I'm too hungry.
And you're looking mighty tasty, dear child.
Mighty tasty.
~
