Flash Fiction No.8

Flash fiction statement was provided by Didrik McCay Wickman on my Facebook Fan Page.


As I pondered the red liquid, I realised that in hindsight, I should probably have checked if this person had any sickness transmittable by blood…

“Does it shock you?”
Eric looked up. He didn’t know whether to be afraid or pleased that we had chosen him. It wasn’t something that he had expected that night as he lay quivering beneath his bed sheets. There had been a creak on the stair. Creaks on the stair weren’t unusual at night in the old shabby house, but this particular shriek of wood had been a louder groan than any caused simply by old timber.
Somebody had stepped on it.
Eric had heard a soft hiss and a rasp of the lips as he’d shrunk further beneath the sheets. He’d thought about running through to his parents’ bed. If there had been a monster in the house, it would surely have devoured him before he could reach the safety of his mother’s duvet. Of course, there had been more than one monster in that house

I could vouch for that.
I watched him, now, as he pressed himself back against the wall. He was apprehensive when he’d heard our offer. The offer meant that he wouldn’t die. The offer meant eternal life. Who wouldn’t pass that up?
That was the difference between us and them. We chose immortality and perpetual youth over old age and death. Of course, as with everything, there is a price to pay. Humanity despises and fears us because we have grown apart from them. Most of them dismiss our kind as a myth… until they meet us down a dark alleyway and we sink our teeth into their tender flesh. They think they’re being foolish when they spy us. They think they’re wrong. We can’t possibly be real. It would be irrational…
But maybe it’s not irrationality.
Maybe it’s instinct kicking in.
Eric had looked at us with that same naïve view. He had thought that he was dreaming or having a nightmare as he cowered close to his covers. He thought that we would kill him.
The look of surprise was still on his face but now it was clouded with doubt and more fear than ever. Maybe he didn’t like the offer. Some people didn’t like it. Some of them chose death. Some of them didn’t think they could trust us… and some of them were right.
After so many years, just killing them gets boring. Parents tell you not to play with your food. Vampires encourage it. As I said, immortality has its downfalls. The killing and the drinking don’t bother me. I rather enjoy them, actually. They’re what humans call ‘the perks of the job’.
It’s the boredom that gets to you. After so many centuries, just killing them loses its appeal. Sometimes you have to toy with them to help pass the time and give a little variation on something that could otherwise be mundane. And, believe me, killing can become quite mundane quite easily unless you really enjoy it. If you really enjoy it, though, there is the danger that you will get yourself killed.
We may be immortal, but there are ways to slay us. Most humans panic before they remember their myths, though. They panic like field mice set before a cat.
“I… I suppose. I’ve never seen a vampire before.”
I smiled, teeth flashing silver in the eerie moonlight filtering through the boy’s blinds. I resisted the urge to run my tongue over my teeth, anticipating the succulent salve of scarlet across my taste buds. I should have considered it then, but I didn’t. And now, as I sit here watching my companion wither, I realise how fortunate I am that he was so eager.
Before the boy, Eric, could even blink, my companion had his teeth fastened around his throat, blindly drinking. The boy squealed and I had to slam my hand over his mouth to keep him from waking his parents whilst Cecil drank his fill. I was starving and watching that greedy piece of filth guzzle on our toy angered me to no end. I can only conclude that it was this burning anger, boiling through my veins, which saved me from my thoughtlessness.
 The child’s body shuddered as his nerve endings died. I threw Cecil aside and gorged on the last few drops of blood. What little nourishment I could gather sizzled away under the heat in my veins. The body, limp in my hands and drained of all its blood, was fixed with a pitiful expression. It clattered against the floor as I dumped it.
It took a moment or two for me to realise that Cecil was not his usual colour either. His pale complexion had gone and his eyes were no longer glittering with his usual lust for blood. He’d turned a nasty shade of puce and staggered backwards a step, flumping down beside the door.
I narrowed my eyes as he started to twist and choke.
He is still now. He sits there with wide staring eyes. His face is an uncomfortable mess of coloured splotches. The parents of the boy haven’t woken. They’re sleeping in their beds.
It took a while for Cecil to wither. His skin is all crackled like papyrus. Pondering the red liquid painting his scorching lips, I realise that, in hindsight, I should have checked if Eric had had any sickness transmittable by blood. Looking now, I can see large packets and bottles of pills scattered around the room.
Normally we scout out our meals but this time we’d been too complacent. It was this complacency that had caused Cecil to wither on the floor. Vampires are not supposed to drink diseased blood. It destroys our insides and stills our immortality faster than you can turn to dust at the break of day. Damned blood burns away the magic imbued in your flesh by the bite of your vampire sire.
I should have checked the boy before. I could have died… but that’s the thing about being a creature of the night.
Sometimes the need to feast on flesh is too much.

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3 thoughts on “Flash Fiction No.8”

  1. Bit gory… how unpredictable given the title 😛 But as Didrik said, it's up to the usual high standard. Good stuff.

  2. Was a good short read. Like Didrik said, I liked the way you transformed that sentence into something so awesome. 🙂

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