The early years of William the Bloody
Blood, sex and eternity
A CHANGE OF SCENES (Part II)
By Richard Bachman
A shadow crossed my path. Sullenly, I gazed up and saw the broad and tall form of a man standing at the end of the alley, blocking my way out. His face was hidden from me by darkness, but I already knew with dreadful certainty who that man was.
Slowly, he approached me, a malicious lion closing in on a puny little mouse, with a beautiful blond woman, dressed like an aristocrat, her eyes cruel and cold, on his arm. She took one look at the creature who had tried to seduce me, and her lips drew into a wicked pitiless grin.
"Look what this idiot has done to your precious childe. I told you that we should keep her from wandering off on her own."
She strode over to girl, and knelt down beside her. The blond woman's hand reached out and touched the red burns on her skin. Although her touch seemed to be gentle and considerate, I clearly remembered my Sire to shudder in response, as if she was afraid of her dark companion.
"This," And the blond turned my Sire's face to show it to him, " is going to need time to heal. In the meantime, I rather won't be seen with her in public."
I was about to collapse and lose consciousness altogether, my tired form swaying unsteadily on my feet, when an intense pain exploded on the back of my head. I heard my skull crack under the ferocity of that blow. My trashed body fell on the cobbles, my fingers trembling while I tried to keep the oozing wound in my neck covered to prevent myself from bleeding to death.
A rough hand turned me around to face my attacker. His grim eyes were burning with rage. The smell of strong liquor on him had almost vanished, or rather was fully submerged by the thick stench of tombs that lingered all around him. The scent of death.
My death.
"You insolent little worm! Nobody touches what is mine!!"
He hit me in my face and chest repeatedly till I could feel the blood dripping out of every burst welt or cut bruise. More dead then alive as I was, he hauled me from the ground and tossed me against the stone walls, roaring like an enraged beast.
I broke every bone that wasn't broken yet, and hit the ground behind a pile of hay. My spirit shattered and my mind maddened by the intense pain my body had to endure, I pleaded desperately to anyone who could respond to my prayers to quickly put an end to my suffering.
His dark shadow travelled over the wall behind me, and swallowed me in its darkness.
"Daddy, don't you kill him!" It was that luring feminine voice again of the creature that I had so brutally scorned." I want him! I want to make him mine!"
"Look what the scum has done t' ye!" The vicious man snapped back in response. "This pesky excuse for a human shouldna even be allowed a chance t' continue with his miserable life. I would be a complete fool t' let ye pass our bloodline down t' him!!"
"No, you don't understand daddy, I need him! I saw what will become of us all and I need him! You need him! Please, don't kill him."
Her voice trembled and sounded very small, like the voice of a child, but she also appeared to be lucid. Her words were determined, as if she knew for certain that she spoke the truth.
"If you love me daddy." She whispered. "If you truly love me and wish me well, then let him live. Let him become one of us and let me dress him in a long black leather coat."
I would have anticipated, perhaps even desired, that he wouldn't give in to her mad pleads and end my life just the same. But instead of offering me eternal peace, he grabbed me by my broken limps and dragged me further away from the open streets and deeper into the darkness of the alley. Being reduced into a whimpering pile of blood, shattered bones and torn flesh, I was hardly lucid enough to realize what these demonic creatures were doing to me. My head was lifted and the world turned before my eyes, before they allowed me to rest again upon something soft and cool. A cold, blistered hand touched me gently, wiping the sweat, tears and blood out of my eyes.
He loomed over me, his appearance becoming hazy as my sight declined. I yelped like a beaten dog and retched blood. My lungs seemed to be filled with fluids and my breathing was loud, carrying frightening sounds as if I was drowning.
She didn't have a lot of time left to save me.
"He doesn't look like a lot of worth to me. His blood." He took a sniff in the air, only bending over me slightly. "His blood smells wrong, sickly even. This one is weak, even before I thrashed him. Ye can do better, childe. Are you certain Ye're not just a wee bit lonely and in need of a playmate Drusilla? Because if ye are, Yer GrandSire and I could easily."
"I want him daddy. Him, and nobody else. Only he is predestined to be my love. Intended as it is written in the stars."
Her fingers, delicate and soft although her skin was red and swollen, traced my cheeks ever so tenderly. Once again, my Sire spoke to me, soundless without even the faintest movements of her lips. Everything I had done to her, the pain I had caused her by burning her so horribly, it was behind us now. It was forgiven.
"We all get hurt by the ones we love. You should know that better than I do, William."
Her touch slipped away, leaving me terribly cold and empty. I wanted to cry out and beg her not to leave me all by myself. I have been foolish, ignorant and callous. I should have never rejected her love, like Cecily had so cruelly rejected mine. Indeed, I should have known better.
A cut savaged my throat. I panicked, my legs quivering wildly, like a hanged man kicking in the air at the gallows, while life flowed out of my useless body and spilled over the cobbles. Her cold hands folded over mine as if she wanted to provide comfort and reassure me that death won't be the end of my existence.
Just before my last breath was drawn, she bit open her wrist and offered it to me, letting her precious blood trickle down on my cold dry lips.
As soon as I tasted it, I longed for more.
I closed my mouth around her wound. Hesitatingly first, I drank the coppery fluid, letting its warmth spread through my cold body and replace what was left of my own blood. My wavering intake escalated quickly into a feverous suckling, as her blood induced a burning thirst in me that seemed to worsen with every drop I drank.
When she withdrew her wonderful gift, a sense of calm descended upon me, wrapping my painful body into a weightless, numbing blanket. I smiled peacefully, while my eyes wept tears of gratitude for her forgiveness and generosity. Then, finally, I allowed the darkness to take me in.
I awoke cold and stiff, my body tied down by invisible ropes. My eyes opened, but I could see nothing but darkness. The smell of fresh pinewood and earth lingered in stagnant humid air. I blinked, not sure if I was still wearing my glasses, but noticed nonetheless that my sight was returning rapidly. Outlines of my surroundings formed, followed by colours, first too dark to distinguish from monotonous shades of grey, but growing stronger, becoming more distinct with every second that past, till red was truly red and white was absolutely white. I couldn't remember to ever have seen these colours so intensely blossoming in total darkness.
My head rested on a cold smooth pillow, my body confined into a small claustrophobic space lined with soft crimson padding. For a moment I feared I was back in the asylum, tied down to the dirty floor with chains and manacles, deprived from every human contact and locked away in endless darkness. Tentatively, I raised my hands and explored my tiny prison. My fingers touched a sealed lid. I pressed upon it, ridiculously gently first, as if I was afraid that I might damage it. But soon, as I realized that I was locked inside, panic seized my hands, and I pounded on the closed structure, pounded on it till the wood split and my knuckles started to bleed. Finally, I bashed my fists through the roof, and gasped in surprise when mounts of dark soil fell on my chest. Cold earth slid through my clothes, clogged my ears and muffled my voice. I screamed desperately for help as I was buried alive underneath this deadly weight, but my pleads transformed into throttled noises as the black substance filled my mouth and nostrils, obstructing my airways.
Gasping for air (I know now that I don't need it anymore, but at that particular moment, in my ignorance, a breath of air seemed absolutely vital) I struggled out of my confinement, clawing upward with a vigorous strength that I've never known my weak body possessed. My fingers became raw with mixing my blood into the dirt, as I ploughed my way out of that suffocating darkness.
At last I broke the surface. Trembling and soiled, I pulled myself out of the pit of loose earth that shifted and slid away underneath me as if it wanted to swallow up me again. Spitting out the repulsive taste of dead moss while trying to calm down my wheezing breath, I dropped on a patch of grass, absolutely exhausted.
I rolled on my back, the coolness of the soggy grass penetrated my clothes. Above me, a wide moonless sky was lit by millions of stars. The black foliage of a tree danced on a cool breeze, while my hearing picked up the cacophony of frogs and the monotonous chirping of crickets.
On my right side, a dark structure loomed over me.
It was just next to the spot where I had crawled out of the trench. I rose. My head spinning, I staggered towards it on my hands and knees. My heart felt heavy as stone and my mind warned me for my sanity, for I had an awful premonition of what to expect to see. There, erected behind the heap of broken earth that was no less then a violated grave, stood a headstone, beautifully polished, proud and gleaming, marked with my name.
William August Byron.
14 August 1856 - 13 April 1880.
I shuffled closer, and toughed the indentations of words with trembling fingers, hoping that my eyes had tricked me. But they were truly there. No illusions of the mind.
I had just crawled out of my own grave.
Just as this gruesome discovery became too much for me to bear and was threatening to break my mind, a soft mournful voice spoke to me, and I turned, gazing warily through the dirty strings of hair dangling before my frightened eyes.
"William? Alas.Poor William. I knew him well."
I swallowed, recognizing the elusive and dangerous creature I had encountered in the dark alley. The one I had fought against so desperately but had eventually claimed my life.
She was breathtakingly beautiful.
The lady was clad in a black silken garment, slim by the waist and low cut at the neck, revealing a glimpse of her moon-pale breasts. With her hands gloved and her face veiled by thin black lace, she looked like she was dressed to attend a funeral.
Shifting sensually from one slender hip to the other, she caressed a scar on her skin that ran from her delicate cheekbone to the small base of her collarbone.
"Did you like the flowers I brought you last night?"
She crouched down beside me, the smooth fabric of her dress touching my shivering knees as it shifted. With theatrical elegance, she showed me the flowers, withered white lilies, the broken stems and shrivelled leaves half buried underneath the soil.
"Such a terrible shame. They were such beautiful flowers. Delicate. Radiant. Pure. But everything I touch just withers and dies."
Her face saddened, and though I was still afraid of her I couldn't help but feel pity for this poor deranged creature. She swayed her head slowly, rhythmically, as if she was lost listening to an enchanting song.
"But.you don't have to be afraid my poor beautiful William. You can rest your head on my lap and sleep.hush..sleep.and awake no longer oppressed and dead in your heart but with a freed spirit fuelled by raging fires."
She looked at me. Her mad eyes suddenly a quiet place of infinite clarity. A place where man could find his eternal peace.
"I touched you William. I touched you, but you didn't die. Because of me, you're finally alive."
I shuddered as she reached out to me, soft hands travelling over my neck, caressing the crusted wound she had given me. My fear for her subsided and became nonexistent, as her scent of roses and sweets and her tender caress awoke emotions in me that were as much alike to the feelings of a son to his mother as the lustful adorations of a lover to his mistress. This strange forbidden notion not only frightened me, but also intrigued my mind and senses. I was useless and cared for, wrapped in her arms. I longed for fluid substance, my lips creaked and my throat filled with thirst, but it was neither water nor food I craved. My mind puzzled, I asked her, addressing her correctly without consciously knowing, guided perhaps by the instinct of the beast that was now inside of me.
"Sire." My voice was hoarse and worn. "I need.I need to drink.I need.to feed."
She helped me out of the cemetery (My Sire has such incredible strength for her small slim figure. I stumbled several times for my body seemed to be extremely weakened, but she kept me from falling down every time by grabbing my sturdily by the arms. This dark, desirable creature might be able to lift me up entirely if she wished to! It makes me wonder, what kind of strength I do posses now I've been made into her kind.) to a carriage pulled by a pair of shiny black horses waiting at the gates. The driver opened the door courteously, but in total silence. His face carried an unhealthy pale tan and a thick red scar ran around his neck. As we rode over a narrow road snaking through the meadows, I couldn't help but to stare out of the curtained windows constantly. There was so much my eyes could see, more even than I ever could when travelling under broad daylight. The lightest shift in the tall grass made by any living creature, the fastest of hares or the tiniest fieldmouse, my eyes would catch it and follow its movement with eagle sharp vision. And once we entered London, the deserted streets were suddenly buzzing with activity of night-time creatures. Rats scuttled along the gutters, domestic cats were out hunting prey and somewhere behind a dark obscured alley that we passed on our way, the corpse of a drunken poor was scavenged by hungry dogs.
The entire scene was so very clear that I could see the blood tickling down his sweat stained collar as the beasts ripped open his throat. I trembled with a strange feeling of anticipation as I caught the coppery smell in a gush of wind passing through the chinks of the closed carriage doors.
We halted in front of the gates of a stately mansion with narrow windows. Though it was situated in the middle of London, it had a small front- garden, in which fragrant night-roses blossomed. My Sire took my hand and guided me down the cobble stone path that led to an impressive two doors entrance. As she impatiently knocked on the wood, I noticed the ornaments on the porch roof, little angels in kneeling positions. Their wings had been cut off and from their heads grew two pointy horns.
The doors opened with just an inch, throwing an orange glow over our feet. A face of a young woman appeared, her eyes warily watching my Sire, and observing me with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.
My Sire smiled.
"Good evening Anna. I'm late, because I had to stop at the cemetery to collect my pet." She gestured to me, running her gloved finger over my dirty cheeks. "Isn't he wonderful? I sow the seeds and I harvest this amazing gift from the fields. Just like a real butcher would." She laughed madly and clapped in her hands in delight. "Is daddy home yet? I want to show him my William. Don't you think he will be pleased?"
The girl named Anna nodded in a way as if probing how she should respond. Her green eyes observed my appearance; muddy trousers and soiled shirt and coat. My locks dangling from my head in filthy strings. She saw the crusted blood and dirt on my hands and the hideous wound in my neck, and she knew.
"He's perfect milady. I believe he won't end up in the backyard like your previous ones."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~* Next and final part will be posted on Friday the 30th of august. Meanwhile, please let me know what you think of the story so far and provide some feedback.
Blood, sex and eternity
A CHANGE OF SCENES (Part II)
By Richard Bachman
A shadow crossed my path. Sullenly, I gazed up and saw the broad and tall form of a man standing at the end of the alley, blocking my way out. His face was hidden from me by darkness, but I already knew with dreadful certainty who that man was.
Slowly, he approached me, a malicious lion closing in on a puny little mouse, with a beautiful blond woman, dressed like an aristocrat, her eyes cruel and cold, on his arm. She took one look at the creature who had tried to seduce me, and her lips drew into a wicked pitiless grin.
"Look what this idiot has done to your precious childe. I told you that we should keep her from wandering off on her own."
She strode over to girl, and knelt down beside her. The blond woman's hand reached out and touched the red burns on her skin. Although her touch seemed to be gentle and considerate, I clearly remembered my Sire to shudder in response, as if she was afraid of her dark companion.
"This," And the blond turned my Sire's face to show it to him, " is going to need time to heal. In the meantime, I rather won't be seen with her in public."
I was about to collapse and lose consciousness altogether, my tired form swaying unsteadily on my feet, when an intense pain exploded on the back of my head. I heard my skull crack under the ferocity of that blow. My trashed body fell on the cobbles, my fingers trembling while I tried to keep the oozing wound in my neck covered to prevent myself from bleeding to death.
A rough hand turned me around to face my attacker. His grim eyes were burning with rage. The smell of strong liquor on him had almost vanished, or rather was fully submerged by the thick stench of tombs that lingered all around him. The scent of death.
My death.
"You insolent little worm! Nobody touches what is mine!!"
He hit me in my face and chest repeatedly till I could feel the blood dripping out of every burst welt or cut bruise. More dead then alive as I was, he hauled me from the ground and tossed me against the stone walls, roaring like an enraged beast.
I broke every bone that wasn't broken yet, and hit the ground behind a pile of hay. My spirit shattered and my mind maddened by the intense pain my body had to endure, I pleaded desperately to anyone who could respond to my prayers to quickly put an end to my suffering.
His dark shadow travelled over the wall behind me, and swallowed me in its darkness.
"Daddy, don't you kill him!" It was that luring feminine voice again of the creature that I had so brutally scorned." I want him! I want to make him mine!"
"Look what the scum has done t' ye!" The vicious man snapped back in response. "This pesky excuse for a human shouldna even be allowed a chance t' continue with his miserable life. I would be a complete fool t' let ye pass our bloodline down t' him!!"
"No, you don't understand daddy, I need him! I saw what will become of us all and I need him! You need him! Please, don't kill him."
Her voice trembled and sounded very small, like the voice of a child, but she also appeared to be lucid. Her words were determined, as if she knew for certain that she spoke the truth.
"If you love me daddy." She whispered. "If you truly love me and wish me well, then let him live. Let him become one of us and let me dress him in a long black leather coat."
I would have anticipated, perhaps even desired, that he wouldn't give in to her mad pleads and end my life just the same. But instead of offering me eternal peace, he grabbed me by my broken limps and dragged me further away from the open streets and deeper into the darkness of the alley. Being reduced into a whimpering pile of blood, shattered bones and torn flesh, I was hardly lucid enough to realize what these demonic creatures were doing to me. My head was lifted and the world turned before my eyes, before they allowed me to rest again upon something soft and cool. A cold, blistered hand touched me gently, wiping the sweat, tears and blood out of my eyes.
He loomed over me, his appearance becoming hazy as my sight declined. I yelped like a beaten dog and retched blood. My lungs seemed to be filled with fluids and my breathing was loud, carrying frightening sounds as if I was drowning.
She didn't have a lot of time left to save me.
"He doesn't look like a lot of worth to me. His blood." He took a sniff in the air, only bending over me slightly. "His blood smells wrong, sickly even. This one is weak, even before I thrashed him. Ye can do better, childe. Are you certain Ye're not just a wee bit lonely and in need of a playmate Drusilla? Because if ye are, Yer GrandSire and I could easily."
"I want him daddy. Him, and nobody else. Only he is predestined to be my love. Intended as it is written in the stars."
Her fingers, delicate and soft although her skin was red and swollen, traced my cheeks ever so tenderly. Once again, my Sire spoke to me, soundless without even the faintest movements of her lips. Everything I had done to her, the pain I had caused her by burning her so horribly, it was behind us now. It was forgiven.
"We all get hurt by the ones we love. You should know that better than I do, William."
Her touch slipped away, leaving me terribly cold and empty. I wanted to cry out and beg her not to leave me all by myself. I have been foolish, ignorant and callous. I should have never rejected her love, like Cecily had so cruelly rejected mine. Indeed, I should have known better.
A cut savaged my throat. I panicked, my legs quivering wildly, like a hanged man kicking in the air at the gallows, while life flowed out of my useless body and spilled over the cobbles. Her cold hands folded over mine as if she wanted to provide comfort and reassure me that death won't be the end of my existence.
Just before my last breath was drawn, she bit open her wrist and offered it to me, letting her precious blood trickle down on my cold dry lips.
As soon as I tasted it, I longed for more.
I closed my mouth around her wound. Hesitatingly first, I drank the coppery fluid, letting its warmth spread through my cold body and replace what was left of my own blood. My wavering intake escalated quickly into a feverous suckling, as her blood induced a burning thirst in me that seemed to worsen with every drop I drank.
When she withdrew her wonderful gift, a sense of calm descended upon me, wrapping my painful body into a weightless, numbing blanket. I smiled peacefully, while my eyes wept tears of gratitude for her forgiveness and generosity. Then, finally, I allowed the darkness to take me in.
I awoke cold and stiff, my body tied down by invisible ropes. My eyes opened, but I could see nothing but darkness. The smell of fresh pinewood and earth lingered in stagnant humid air. I blinked, not sure if I was still wearing my glasses, but noticed nonetheless that my sight was returning rapidly. Outlines of my surroundings formed, followed by colours, first too dark to distinguish from monotonous shades of grey, but growing stronger, becoming more distinct with every second that past, till red was truly red and white was absolutely white. I couldn't remember to ever have seen these colours so intensely blossoming in total darkness.
My head rested on a cold smooth pillow, my body confined into a small claustrophobic space lined with soft crimson padding. For a moment I feared I was back in the asylum, tied down to the dirty floor with chains and manacles, deprived from every human contact and locked away in endless darkness. Tentatively, I raised my hands and explored my tiny prison. My fingers touched a sealed lid. I pressed upon it, ridiculously gently first, as if I was afraid that I might damage it. But soon, as I realized that I was locked inside, panic seized my hands, and I pounded on the closed structure, pounded on it till the wood split and my knuckles started to bleed. Finally, I bashed my fists through the roof, and gasped in surprise when mounts of dark soil fell on my chest. Cold earth slid through my clothes, clogged my ears and muffled my voice. I screamed desperately for help as I was buried alive underneath this deadly weight, but my pleads transformed into throttled noises as the black substance filled my mouth and nostrils, obstructing my airways.
Gasping for air (I know now that I don't need it anymore, but at that particular moment, in my ignorance, a breath of air seemed absolutely vital) I struggled out of my confinement, clawing upward with a vigorous strength that I've never known my weak body possessed. My fingers became raw with mixing my blood into the dirt, as I ploughed my way out of that suffocating darkness.
At last I broke the surface. Trembling and soiled, I pulled myself out of the pit of loose earth that shifted and slid away underneath me as if it wanted to swallow up me again. Spitting out the repulsive taste of dead moss while trying to calm down my wheezing breath, I dropped on a patch of grass, absolutely exhausted.
I rolled on my back, the coolness of the soggy grass penetrated my clothes. Above me, a wide moonless sky was lit by millions of stars. The black foliage of a tree danced on a cool breeze, while my hearing picked up the cacophony of frogs and the monotonous chirping of crickets.
On my right side, a dark structure loomed over me.
It was just next to the spot where I had crawled out of the trench. I rose. My head spinning, I staggered towards it on my hands and knees. My heart felt heavy as stone and my mind warned me for my sanity, for I had an awful premonition of what to expect to see. There, erected behind the heap of broken earth that was no less then a violated grave, stood a headstone, beautifully polished, proud and gleaming, marked with my name.
William August Byron.
14 August 1856 - 13 April 1880.
I shuffled closer, and toughed the indentations of words with trembling fingers, hoping that my eyes had tricked me. But they were truly there. No illusions of the mind.
I had just crawled out of my own grave.
Just as this gruesome discovery became too much for me to bear and was threatening to break my mind, a soft mournful voice spoke to me, and I turned, gazing warily through the dirty strings of hair dangling before my frightened eyes.
"William? Alas.Poor William. I knew him well."
I swallowed, recognizing the elusive and dangerous creature I had encountered in the dark alley. The one I had fought against so desperately but had eventually claimed my life.
She was breathtakingly beautiful.
The lady was clad in a black silken garment, slim by the waist and low cut at the neck, revealing a glimpse of her moon-pale breasts. With her hands gloved and her face veiled by thin black lace, she looked like she was dressed to attend a funeral.
Shifting sensually from one slender hip to the other, she caressed a scar on her skin that ran from her delicate cheekbone to the small base of her collarbone.
"Did you like the flowers I brought you last night?"
She crouched down beside me, the smooth fabric of her dress touching my shivering knees as it shifted. With theatrical elegance, she showed me the flowers, withered white lilies, the broken stems and shrivelled leaves half buried underneath the soil.
"Such a terrible shame. They were such beautiful flowers. Delicate. Radiant. Pure. But everything I touch just withers and dies."
Her face saddened, and though I was still afraid of her I couldn't help but feel pity for this poor deranged creature. She swayed her head slowly, rhythmically, as if she was lost listening to an enchanting song.
"But.you don't have to be afraid my poor beautiful William. You can rest your head on my lap and sleep.hush..sleep.and awake no longer oppressed and dead in your heart but with a freed spirit fuelled by raging fires."
She looked at me. Her mad eyes suddenly a quiet place of infinite clarity. A place where man could find his eternal peace.
"I touched you William. I touched you, but you didn't die. Because of me, you're finally alive."
I shuddered as she reached out to me, soft hands travelling over my neck, caressing the crusted wound she had given me. My fear for her subsided and became nonexistent, as her scent of roses and sweets and her tender caress awoke emotions in me that were as much alike to the feelings of a son to his mother as the lustful adorations of a lover to his mistress. This strange forbidden notion not only frightened me, but also intrigued my mind and senses. I was useless and cared for, wrapped in her arms. I longed for fluid substance, my lips creaked and my throat filled with thirst, but it was neither water nor food I craved. My mind puzzled, I asked her, addressing her correctly without consciously knowing, guided perhaps by the instinct of the beast that was now inside of me.
"Sire." My voice was hoarse and worn. "I need.I need to drink.I need.to feed."
She helped me out of the cemetery (My Sire has such incredible strength for her small slim figure. I stumbled several times for my body seemed to be extremely weakened, but she kept me from falling down every time by grabbing my sturdily by the arms. This dark, desirable creature might be able to lift me up entirely if she wished to! It makes me wonder, what kind of strength I do posses now I've been made into her kind.) to a carriage pulled by a pair of shiny black horses waiting at the gates. The driver opened the door courteously, but in total silence. His face carried an unhealthy pale tan and a thick red scar ran around his neck. As we rode over a narrow road snaking through the meadows, I couldn't help but to stare out of the curtained windows constantly. There was so much my eyes could see, more even than I ever could when travelling under broad daylight. The lightest shift in the tall grass made by any living creature, the fastest of hares or the tiniest fieldmouse, my eyes would catch it and follow its movement with eagle sharp vision. And once we entered London, the deserted streets were suddenly buzzing with activity of night-time creatures. Rats scuttled along the gutters, domestic cats were out hunting prey and somewhere behind a dark obscured alley that we passed on our way, the corpse of a drunken poor was scavenged by hungry dogs.
The entire scene was so very clear that I could see the blood tickling down his sweat stained collar as the beasts ripped open his throat. I trembled with a strange feeling of anticipation as I caught the coppery smell in a gush of wind passing through the chinks of the closed carriage doors.
We halted in front of the gates of a stately mansion with narrow windows. Though it was situated in the middle of London, it had a small front- garden, in which fragrant night-roses blossomed. My Sire took my hand and guided me down the cobble stone path that led to an impressive two doors entrance. As she impatiently knocked on the wood, I noticed the ornaments on the porch roof, little angels in kneeling positions. Their wings had been cut off and from their heads grew two pointy horns.
The doors opened with just an inch, throwing an orange glow over our feet. A face of a young woman appeared, her eyes warily watching my Sire, and observing me with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.
My Sire smiled.
"Good evening Anna. I'm late, because I had to stop at the cemetery to collect my pet." She gestured to me, running her gloved finger over my dirty cheeks. "Isn't he wonderful? I sow the seeds and I harvest this amazing gift from the fields. Just like a real butcher would." She laughed madly and clapped in her hands in delight. "Is daddy home yet? I want to show him my William. Don't you think he will be pleased?"
The girl named Anna nodded in a way as if probing how she should respond. Her green eyes observed my appearance; muddy trousers and soiled shirt and coat. My locks dangling from my head in filthy strings. She saw the crusted blood and dirt on my hands and the hideous wound in my neck, and she knew.
"He's perfect milady. I believe he won't end up in the backyard like your previous ones."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~* Next and final part will be posted on Friday the 30th of august. Meanwhile, please let me know what you think of the story so far and provide some feedback.