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Hell Bent - Short Stories
Titles:
Lick the Walls
Illiandra
I See a Bright Future Ahead of You
These few short stories were inspired somewhat by some of the great vampire stories that Sam has read. He has not written much prose, but hopes to write more in the future.
Lick the Walls
Alone in darkness I revel, drinking up the wholeness of the void... Yes, shadows play across my eyes as though spiders weaving webs in a tangled dance to trick me into slipping. They lick the walls as though the candlelight sings a tune, forcing their movements as a marionette.
I smile as warm a smile as I feel is necessary and kiss this woman's forehead as it looms up before me. All the while I am glassy-eyed with the dreary feel of too much alcohol, although I have not touched the poison in years. I am thinking clearly now, more so than I recall in recent days. Sometimes... Sometimes I remember when life was so much simpler. Of course I realize that I can hardly consider my meager existence a life at all.
I reach down nonchalantly, trying to act natural as I twirl her hair in my nervous trembling fingers. The coarse amber strands grate against my sensitive skin and a slightly rosy smell releases into my nostrils as I carefully destroy the locks between thumb and forefinger. For a moment I feel reckless, reaching down to touch her knee, meeting the piercing green eyes that come up to greet me with what I try to construe as a calm smile. Our gazes lock for only a fleeting moment. The unchallenged self-loathing and contempt flowing through my mind almost causes me to blink, but I hold myself steady and instead bite my lip and act as though I meant to gather her close and smell her hair. My lips bury deep beneath her flowing silky hair and I kiss her, a little nibble on the top of her head. I continue kissing my way to the left side of her face, kissing, kissing, tongue slithering and searching, drawing painfully nearer to her neck... Not daring to think about what I am doing.
Seemingly mocking me, I hear a content sigh and giggle. She shivers in the romance of it all. I feel her tension disappearing and my limitations fleeing as she relaxes and surrenders herself. I reach the nape of her neck, still nibbling, still holding her knee firmly, still not thinking, still trying to blot from my thoughts any fears of what comes next. I gulp down a small drop of blood, apparently from my nervously bitten lip and it feels refreshing to my strangely cold unfeeling mind and body.
My tongue forks out for a moment to linger on the delicate skin beneath the harsh curve of her jaw and moves slowly upwards again towards the lips. Our eyes again meet briefly and of course I look away without a thought. My tongue continues its progression ever towards her mouth, soft at first, almost gently before biting lip again. This time the lip was hers... My teeth close hard. I taste blood and expecting to have to muffle a scream, or maybe even end it here, I gulp back the fear I always taste this close to the end.
"Mmmmmm..." The sound escapes slowly through lips still sticking to my own, followed by the quick panting "Mm-hmm, you want more?"
She has no idea, I have to stop myself from shuddering. I try to speak as sparingly as possible to them, my prey... I try so hard... I don’t know why, perhaps to hide myself from my own conscience, perhaps to set the mood... She is much too calm for my nerves, almost enough to frustrate me. I choose to simply keep going, ignoring her. My right hand slides over her knee inwards, up the inside of her soft white thigh all the while hearing her voice in my mind: "Mmmmm... You want more? You want more? You want more?"
She must have taken my actions as answer enough to her question. I feel her rising up, losing her meekness and shyness, beginning to take control. My mood darkens considerably, no, no, no... This is not the way that it will be. Where have I lost the gift of fear? Perhaps this one is not easily rattled, I must need to be more direct.
I entwine her hair tight in my left hand, pulling downwards to force her back to her seat. Although it doesn't quite work the way I want. I feel a rush of energy, a power that shouldn't be and sudden pain in my hand as she stands. Her hair and her own hands twist my encircling fingers almost backwards. I gasp, half in shock, half in agony as she releases me and her claw comes to my throat like a viper, holding me.
I can't think straight, I am sitting here, not moving, not breathing, not thinking. What I should do is cry out, raise my hand to her beautiful face and show her how she has disturbed me, how she has disgraced me. That is what I should do. And I would, if only I could think straight. Instead my mouth parts open, agape as some cavernous sewer hole, leading to something much more filthy than raw sewage. My hands that should be protecting me lie at my sides limp and useless. I have never been in this position, it is... disturbing. "You want more?" Comes the serene too-sweet coo of my victim, "Of course you do... You want it all, don't you Jeremy?"
I should move my head, shake it back and forth, I should open my mouth, whisper "No". I attempt to gulp dryness from my throat, fear rising and ebbing with each syllable she intones. I look into her eyes. I never look into their eyes. Somehow their innocence is shattered, the taste of their compassion is soured and that ruins it for me. That kind of insight into someone's soul is enough to weaken my resolve. I think back to all the others, how simple it had been, how I had done what was necessary with no qualms, no remorse, no knowledge of their lives and NO looking into their eyes. The clammy flesh was cold, as it should be, but somehow softer when I finished with them.
Fire screams through my veins, the flames of fear and desperation, symbolic of my doom. Blood pumping, seething, in time with the echoing: "Of course you do... Of course you do... Of course you do..."
"You want to fuck me Jeremy? You want to kill me? Perhaps both, Jeremy? You want to see me like the others, cold and bloodstained, covered in foul dirt? I have seen the garden, I have seen you planting them Jeremy... It is such a beautiful garden." She smiles, driving home her words like a stake through my chest. My eyes are drawn to her teeth, strangely sharpened. "That's right, I found your work impressive Jeremy. For a man." The calculating coldness in her eyes has entranced me, I don’t even struggle. I feel both protective of my secret, yet strangely proud of her praise. Pride lasts only moments as icy cold blood replaces the raging fiery river that should have been. The reason for the drastic change, her words which I can't believe but can't refute, there is no way she could know. Yet I hear repeating, ringing in my ears: "A beautiful garden... A beautiful garden... A beautiful garden."
"You will be a good one, won't you Jeremy... My little boy Jeremy, so lovely... So cold." Her following blunt laughter forces a small spattering of blood from the small wound on her lip to drip quickly down her chin and onto her white shirt, staining it irrevocably. Her tongue flicks out reminding me once more of a predatory snake, wiping the streak away from lip and chin. It is all so provocative, so exciting... I feel like crying, like letting loose all the pain that I have caused and held inside for what seems like lifetimes, letting it loose in the form of tears, perfect crystalline purity, drowning out the guilt perhaps.
She leans in close, lifting my chin. This viper-woman comes slowly face to face with me, her fingers and lips continue to my collar, loosening it, exposing my skin to the stiff recycled air of this small room. I sit still, I should struggle, that's what I should be doing. She touches her lips to my sweating neck. Blood coursing intensely, the gentle pressure of her teeth and tongue gently caressing the vein on my neck that throbs so deeply, in time with echoing words: "So lovely, so cold... So cold... So cold..."
Ecstasy... Now I know the joy my victims had, in one pure moment of the most religious sort I see everything, know everything. It is even better than I fantasized, a joy one hundred fold of what I felt in their last moments. I cry out, only it isn't a cry, more like a moan, or a plea, "Oh... Oh god." Funny that I should think of god at this moment for the first time in what seems eternities of darkness.
"That's right Jeremy..." She kisses me this time. I feel the intense passion, taste the lingering blood. My god it is so sweet, like nectar from the most pure ripe fruit I have ever tasted or the tingling sensation of loves passion, only biting, stimulating, burning in such a cruel yet beautiful way.
I don't know how, time must have lost meaning, but somehow she is away from me, standing at the door. "Now don't go anywhere Jeremy... Don't go anywhere, I'll be right back darling... Stay... Innocent..." Her smile, flirting with dark humor makes me laugh, it comes on with no warning, harder, stronger than any laughter any man should ever be able to survive. The sound of it fills the room and fills my mind more fully than were I to drown.
I realize in a stomach pang of a thousand clawing rats gnawing at me from the inside how hungry she has made me... And I have made myself. The snarl from my lips almost startles me. I want to do it all over again... Do it right this time, promise myself that I will not make the same mistakes. But I know that I will never have that chance.
I now have only one thing on my mind and that is the disgusting stench of my own soul, soured and gnarled like the twisted bodies I have seen so many times before. My need for sustenance draws me to proceed again, continue the cycle, and I open the door to this tiny room. Open it to the world beyond knowing that I will never again have any fears and feeling for once as though things have fallen into place. My eyes are blinking, trying to take everything in stride, closing, opening, closing to her final words: "Stay... Innocent... Innocent... Innocent..."
Illiandra
Illiandra waited impatiently in her study for her servants to bring the next books. It was frustrating enough having to read through all of this material herself, and it wasn't as if she could entrust the research to someone else of lesser intellect. Her fingers went to her mouth, teeth nervously biting nails, every so often lifting her head to listen for the footsteps and roll her eyes in disgust when she didn't hear them. Illiandra was a beauty... She knew it, and made sure other people knew as well. Full pouty lips adorned a silky face of creamy white complextion. Green eyes peirced from behind intricately delicate eyebrows and long pitch black lashes. High cheek bones, a narrow chin and ever so slightly pointed nose seemed to flow in a dream-like pattern, coming together into amazing beauty. She was slender and regal with plenty of curves to give her a perfect figure, her flowing dark hair just full enough to fall in beautiful waves down to her waist. Her dress today was ornate, as usual, a soft blend of midnight blue, with touches of emerald green to highlight her eyes. Cut low to reveal just enough of her plentiful bosom to catch the eye, but not low enough to be indecent. Everything about her seemed to glow of perfection.
She sat within a small room illuminated by a few flickering candles set into holders and placed upon the table at which she sat. The table was a soft oak, legs carved with a masters touch into hundreds of intricate designs, it looked as if it were centuries old. Books scattered themselves around it haphazardly, discarded by Illiandra when she was finished with them, to be dealt with later by her servants. "And where were those damned servants?" she wondered silently and spared another moment to sigh impatiently. The walls of the room were adorned with tapestries, also obviously priceless masterpeices, a small door to her left was swung ajar just a few inches, leading to a precariously steep set of stairs that traveled up to far to see. By far the most intriguing aspect of the room was the large sleek black coffin nestled into the corner in front of and to her right against the wall.
Illiandra picked up a book from the table that she had finished reading half an hour ago, flipped through it idly for a moment, closed it and brought it crashing down onto the table with a dull thud. She stood, opened the door, hiked up her dress and began her trek up the stairs, she was not at all pleased.
Soft creaks and groans escaped from the wooden planked stairs as she made her way to the door at the top. Almost 50 steps from the top, the door began to open slowly, completely silently. She stopped... She had heard nothing, and she had very sensitive hearing, it had saved her from trouble often before. She stopped her walk up the stairs, thinking for a moment of finding a place to hide, but knew there was nowhere to go here. Instead, she prepared herself mentally of what was to come.
The door continued to open silently and came to rest against the wall, also without a sound. She looked closely and saw nothing at all at the top of the stairs. She waited a moment, perfectly silent, perfectly still, eyes searching for something she couldn't see, ears straining for something she couldn't hear. "Enough!" she thought to herself. Without warning she flung herself up the stairs, her movement somehow heightened, she was through the door in no more time than it took to blink. Her eyes caught sight of the broken body of flesh before her nose became aware of it. Multiple painful looking punctures dotted her loyal servant of 50 years. Trent lay in his own blood, eyes opened in a dully surprised look. Again, Illiandra's impatience ruled her actions, this time, impatient for the fight to begin... She would have blood from those that harmed her and her own. "Out with you!" She didn't yell, but raised her voice in a coolly serene voice that somehow managed to be filled with spite and anger.
She felt a chill finger poke her in her back and spun, ready to kill her attacker with a blast that would destroy his mind beyond repair, and looked into the eyes... The eyes of her mortal love more than three hundred years before. She gasped, jumped back, and watched in shock and horror as he moved towards her, with a knife formed from what appeared to be human bone. After the moment of shock, she let lose a flurry of mental attacks that would force even the most dreaded and willful man into insanity, and... nothing, he walked towards her, slowly, full of deliberation. She Tried to grasp at his mind, control him, "Stop!" she screamed inside of his head, "Stop now, turn and go where you came from!" He continued forward, oblivious... Franticly, she picked up a chair used to sit people in her guest room and flung it at him. It bounced abnormally off of him, landing hollowly on the plushly carpeted floor. He continued unphased. Her fear heightened, this man made no sound... He had no vulnerability... And it was... It was Jonathan. She remembered his touch, his face, his voice from so long ago as if it had been moments since they had been apart. She stopped for a moment, to look into his eyes... It couldn't be, could it? Her eyes caught his, and she could not break her eyes away from them. She stood, mesmerized, watching him approach, watching him raise his hand, watching the blade come down, and watching as he broght her to her end...
* * *
She gasped awake, trembling. She looked down at herself, nothing wrong... She looked about the room, as it always was... It was midday... She was so tired... She tried to keep awake, afraid to have to face him again, but the sleep overcame her fear, and she drifted once again into the nightmares.
I See a Bright Future Ahead of You
"The two children walk on down the hall, scratching each others skin, bleeding sin to thirsty wood. The eyes of the girl stare vacant at the walls... In tune with something extraordinary but entirely out of tune. The boy touches his face to remind himself of the past, that he is real and can be hurt. You are not that little boy I fear... You are well aware you can be hurt. I see you watching from behind, disturbed by the fact that blood is staining your hardwood floor, you are angry and clenching your fists. Your body is twitching, you are uncomfortable with something, perhaps the girls lost eyes. It-" "What in the name of Christ are you doing?" Graham's almost shouted. His eyes were wide, thick eyebrows furrowed. The gypsy had been rambling on for almost 5 minutes in this way, getting ever more insane. He was utterly confused and more than a little bit worried, this was different than he had expected from some crazy palm reader, maybe just something like "I see a bright future ahead of you." He had come here looking for something positive, something to take his mind from the real world… Well, this was definitely taking his mind off of his troubles... Having been interrupted, the gypsy opened her eyes slowly and leaned forward blinking a few times. She shook her head as if unaware of her surroundings, looked up and then smiled as though she knew exactly what was happening. "I- I think I am done..." Her eyes looked to Graham expectantly awaiting his confirmation, as though she were still not entirely sure what had happened. "Done with what, I don't know. That was the god damned most obnoxious thing I think I have ever been told." He paused for a moment, looking wildly at her. "What in god's name..." Graham trailed off gulping, still blinking, his jaw dropping once again into a confused stupor. He was breathing heavily, obviously extremely disturbed. The gypsy, 'Eleanor, Seer of All' according to the small sign outside of her home, looked shocked and still a little lost. "I am sorry sir if I said something to offend you... I can assure you that I did not mean to upset you... I- I think perhaps you should go, I don’t want any trouble." She seemed scared, she was clutching at something underneath the table that she sat at with her right hand. A tingle ran down Graham's spine. Eleanor's strange reaction made things all the more upsetting. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to clear the images out of his head from this psychotic woman's ranting. He put his hand to his temple, feeling a headache coming on. Standing to leave, his leg caught on the desk causing him to stumble back and almost knock his chair to the ground. After catching his balance, he turned towards the door. "Sir, it is $20.00 for the reading... I don't want to have to call the police." Looking at him quizzically, she slowly reached her left hand out for payment. Money was the last thing Graham cared about right now, he wanted to get out of here fast. Fingers fumbled for his wallet, found it, removed a crisp $20 bill and tossed it in the direction of the gypsy. Not waiting around to see if it made it to the table, he grabbed the door handle, opened wide the door and stepped through without closing it behind himself. An old woman waiting in the next room stood from her chair, smiling and was almost run over by Graham as he made his way outside. Ignoring the lady's dirty look, he stopped for a moment as he hit fresh air to take another deep breath and walked the dirt path to his car.
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