A Beast I Am Lest A Beast I Become
By Taffy
Moonlight played over the dark streets, reflected from the pavement, still damp from the recent rain. Slivers of glowing silver litter the road. The threat of thunder still hanging heavily in the air, dense with anticipation.
Few people wandered along the streets at this late hour. A drunk stumbled on the path, vomiting into an alleyway.
A door opened. Bright light bathing the garden in front of it, as drums echoed loudly from inside; shaking the fresh dew from the grass. A teenage girl stepped out into the damp garden, still pulling on her coat in the chill air. A small cluster of teenagers followed her out, leaning against a wall, attempting to look older than their years would permit.
"You sure you can't stay longer, Skye?" Enquired a spiky haired boy, lighting his cigarette with an expertise very unbecoming.
"Sorry hun, you know I've got work in the morning. Goodnight guys." The musical tone in her voice showing a vestige of innocence that no words could portray despite the tight hug she was sharing with the boy. "Goodnight Matt." She whispered into his ear. Breaking the embrace, she turned to walk down the darkened street. Matt watched her till she reached the end of his street. Then, stubbing his cigarette out on the wall in a well-practised manner, he went back inside.
Skye shivered as she pivoted on the corner. Glancing back in time to see Matt's door clashing shut. The light disappearing, seeming to increase not only the darkness, but also the cold. She pulled her coat around her tightly. Trying to blot out the shivers along her spine that she knew had nothing to do with the temperature. A sudden crash startled her, sending her sprawling, trying desperately to stay upright on the slick ground. But when she glanced into the shadows of the alley, there was only a knocked over trashcan. "You're okay, you're okay. Just a trashcan." She murmured, but even she heard the slight tremor in her voice, sensed the hollowness of her words, felt her pulse quicken despite her best efforts to the contrary. But still, she wouldn't let her footfalls quicken, at least not to a highly noticeable degree. She still clung to the thought of the imaginary. Because to her, at that moment, that's all it was. Even when she caught a glimpse of shadowy movement out of the corner of her eye. But then, with a terrible reality, the imaginary became real. From the icy hard grip around her throat, to the pale chiselled face and white slicked back hair. Right to those eyes. Those horrendously brilliant eyes. They seemed to stare into her soul. But without looking. Without caring. Those deep, dark, lustrous eyes. Like the eyes of a saviour, but one who has saved too many souls, seen too many things. Lost the feeling. Lost the notion of humanity. But there harboured a darker gaze, something more evil roamed behind them, something more destructive. More fitting. She tried to cry out, tried to scream, to live, but those eyes, that gaze, stopped her. He brushed her hair away, with a soft touch, much like a lovers, but with a more predatory edge, revealing her tempting neck. In one heartbeat, he lunged forwards, raking his fangs down her neck, piercing her soft, pale skin. Silent tears ran from her eyes, slowly rolling backwards into oblivion, the sensation; him lapping at her flesh, drinking her blood, drinking her life away. But then the pain, so sudden, renewing her for a moment, allowing her one more minute of crushing existence. She closed her eyes, wishing to wake up from this nightmare. The real imaginary. One last jolt ran through her body. But of pleasure. Intense, unimaginable, strange pleasure. She'd never understood this, in the old films, the pleasure of the vampire kiss. But not it all made sense. An insane sense. But enough to cling to. The pain was still there, but only throbbing at the edges of her mind, she was focusing on the pleasure; the sheer intensity of it was mind blowing. The last coherent fragment of her consciousness screamed for this to end, wordlessly praying for heaven or at least death. With the last of her strength she moaned softly, and blacked out. He held her limp neck in place on his fangs, gently cradling her in his lean arms, drinking the last few drops of blood from her body. Once used, her let her slump slowly to the ground.
He leant over her corpse, using a nail to slice open his wrist with indifference. Letting thick drops of blood fall onto her blue lips. Her eyes flashed open as she gagged for a breath unneeded. Grabbing at his wrist with a hunger henceforth unbeknownst to her. His wrist oozed pure, unadulterated life. An inner rage overtook her, her consciousness failing, only animal instincts left, overwhelming her nostrils with the rips stench of blood. And the best was born. She could feel nerves, given up for dead, bursting forth into a terrible new life. And still she drank. The man pulled away, shedding the clinging tendrils of her fingers as though they were non-existent.
The beast subsided. Prowling at the edge of her awareness. Alone with her beast she couldn't help but feel it's claws ticking along her brain. Fizzing her senses, sharpening her experiences. Here she sat, in the shadows of her own town, a stranger to all familiarities now. This place lay unknown; she ceased to belong in this world of nightmares.
She could hear footsteps. Hollow and distant. Racing across the train lines almost a mile away. She heard the screech of the train coming to a halt. A damp thud and a scream. Her mind was howling at her. No! No! This can't happen! And she could feel the beast. Could sense its hunger for imagined blood. Its lust for the kill. she reeled backwards. Fumbling to stand up and slipping back, hitting the ground hard. She coughed. Spluttering her own blood onto the pavement as she rolled onto her front. To her horror the beast extended her tongue. Touched the blood and lapped at it for a moment. She pulled back. Eyes widened in horror and filled with tears. And she ran.
She had never run for so long in all of her life. She didn't know what was happening. She didn't want to know. It had nothing to do with her. It was all just a bad dream. Maybe eventually she'd wake up and find Matt with his arms around her. If only.
By Taffy
Moonlight played over the dark streets, reflected from the pavement, still damp from the recent rain. Slivers of glowing silver litter the road. The threat of thunder still hanging heavily in the air, dense with anticipation.
Few people wandered along the streets at this late hour. A drunk stumbled on the path, vomiting into an alleyway.
A door opened. Bright light bathing the garden in front of it, as drums echoed loudly from inside; shaking the fresh dew from the grass. A teenage girl stepped out into the damp garden, still pulling on her coat in the chill air. A small cluster of teenagers followed her out, leaning against a wall, attempting to look older than their years would permit.
"You sure you can't stay longer, Skye?" Enquired a spiky haired boy, lighting his cigarette with an expertise very unbecoming.
"Sorry hun, you know I've got work in the morning. Goodnight guys." The musical tone in her voice showing a vestige of innocence that no words could portray despite the tight hug she was sharing with the boy. "Goodnight Matt." She whispered into his ear. Breaking the embrace, she turned to walk down the darkened street. Matt watched her till she reached the end of his street. Then, stubbing his cigarette out on the wall in a well-practised manner, he went back inside.
Skye shivered as she pivoted on the corner. Glancing back in time to see Matt's door clashing shut. The light disappearing, seeming to increase not only the darkness, but also the cold. She pulled her coat around her tightly. Trying to blot out the shivers along her spine that she knew had nothing to do with the temperature. A sudden crash startled her, sending her sprawling, trying desperately to stay upright on the slick ground. But when she glanced into the shadows of the alley, there was only a knocked over trashcan. "You're okay, you're okay. Just a trashcan." She murmured, but even she heard the slight tremor in her voice, sensed the hollowness of her words, felt her pulse quicken despite her best efforts to the contrary. But still, she wouldn't let her footfalls quicken, at least not to a highly noticeable degree. She still clung to the thought of the imaginary. Because to her, at that moment, that's all it was. Even when she caught a glimpse of shadowy movement out of the corner of her eye. But then, with a terrible reality, the imaginary became real. From the icy hard grip around her throat, to the pale chiselled face and white slicked back hair. Right to those eyes. Those horrendously brilliant eyes. They seemed to stare into her soul. But without looking. Without caring. Those deep, dark, lustrous eyes. Like the eyes of a saviour, but one who has saved too many souls, seen too many things. Lost the feeling. Lost the notion of humanity. But there harboured a darker gaze, something more evil roamed behind them, something more destructive. More fitting. She tried to cry out, tried to scream, to live, but those eyes, that gaze, stopped her. He brushed her hair away, with a soft touch, much like a lovers, but with a more predatory edge, revealing her tempting neck. In one heartbeat, he lunged forwards, raking his fangs down her neck, piercing her soft, pale skin. Silent tears ran from her eyes, slowly rolling backwards into oblivion, the sensation; him lapping at her flesh, drinking her blood, drinking her life away. But then the pain, so sudden, renewing her for a moment, allowing her one more minute of crushing existence. She closed her eyes, wishing to wake up from this nightmare. The real imaginary. One last jolt ran through her body. But of pleasure. Intense, unimaginable, strange pleasure. She'd never understood this, in the old films, the pleasure of the vampire kiss. But not it all made sense. An insane sense. But enough to cling to. The pain was still there, but only throbbing at the edges of her mind, she was focusing on the pleasure; the sheer intensity of it was mind blowing. The last coherent fragment of her consciousness screamed for this to end, wordlessly praying for heaven or at least death. With the last of her strength she moaned softly, and blacked out. He held her limp neck in place on his fangs, gently cradling her in his lean arms, drinking the last few drops of blood from her body. Once used, her let her slump slowly to the ground.
He leant over her corpse, using a nail to slice open his wrist with indifference. Letting thick drops of blood fall onto her blue lips. Her eyes flashed open as she gagged for a breath unneeded. Grabbing at his wrist with a hunger henceforth unbeknownst to her. His wrist oozed pure, unadulterated life. An inner rage overtook her, her consciousness failing, only animal instincts left, overwhelming her nostrils with the rips stench of blood. And the best was born. She could feel nerves, given up for dead, bursting forth into a terrible new life. And still she drank. The man pulled away, shedding the clinging tendrils of her fingers as though they were non-existent.
The beast subsided. Prowling at the edge of her awareness. Alone with her beast she couldn't help but feel it's claws ticking along her brain. Fizzing her senses, sharpening her experiences. Here she sat, in the shadows of her own town, a stranger to all familiarities now. This place lay unknown; she ceased to belong in this world of nightmares.
She could hear footsteps. Hollow and distant. Racing across the train lines almost a mile away. She heard the screech of the train coming to a halt. A damp thud and a scream. Her mind was howling at her. No! No! This can't happen! And she could feel the beast. Could sense its hunger for imagined blood. Its lust for the kill. she reeled backwards. Fumbling to stand up and slipping back, hitting the ground hard. She coughed. Spluttering her own blood onto the pavement as she rolled onto her front. To her horror the beast extended her tongue. Touched the blood and lapped at it for a moment. She pulled back. Eyes widened in horror and filled with tears. And she ran.
She had never run for so long in all of her life. She didn't know what was happening. She didn't want to know. It had nothing to do with her. It was all just a bad dream. Maybe eventually she'd wake up and find Matt with his arms around her. If only.