Here we go, another Terrible Minds flash fiction challenge. Loving the horror theme for Beardtober, never thought I’d be able to write this kind of thing…one that you may enjoy is hidden in the bowels of my blog, so here’s a link to The Perfect House: A Rental Tale . Now here’s a story with two vampires in it, unfortunately they didn’t come onto the page as I’d wanted them to. In fact the were polar opposites to how I wanted to convey them. There will be another Vampire Tale soon, so, as the Sirius Cybernetics Corporation might say, “Share and Enjoy“.
“Too often now I have seen both the superstitions and the false truths told about me held out as a ward against me. Cannot venture into the sun’s golden light. That an invitation is necessary before I can enter your home. That a mere twig can puncture my armoured chest, that you, no more to me than a cockroach, could pierce my hide and shatter my heart. It still escapes me why I should fear, rather than savour, the taste of garlic.”
“That I am a tool of your ridiculous Satan. He is but a weak parody of me, a shallow echo of the time when your city-states were young, when you remembered fear. So many of you hold out your trinkets and charms before me, calling out the name of your blessed scapegoat, the Nazarene.”
He stood atop the soapbox, calm in contrast to his more typical neighbours, crazed Rasputinesque zealots to his assured elder statesman. A modern day Cato, prophesising our downfall, announcing our vices. He was hypnotic, his ink-black eyes drawing you in suffocatingly close.
“I have heard your myths about sleeping in boxes. I have heard about the clean kill. About two puncture wounds in the neck. There is a poison in my saliva – this is true. And that I will feast on men and maiden alike – this is also true.” He flourished a disarmingly charismatic smile before revealing his teeth, a glittering mouthful of razor-sharp fangs. A shark’s maw. Or a dinosaurs. “But with these teeth,” here he laughed, bell-like and loud, “with these teeth your head will be torn from your shoulders. Your blood will pump out, like a fountain. I will drain you.”
He was staring directly at me as he said it, and the effect was unnerving to say the least. I could feel him at my throat already; I could smell him. The smell of corruption. Of death. Of decay. I was terrified, but trapped, like a deer in the headlights. Rooted to the spot. The weight of the world weighed heavy between us, as though we were the only two there in the park.
“The truth is that my kind and I are death. We live among you. Feeding upon you. Feeding upon the wretched and the lost. There is never much left over. Not enough for the police to find in most cases. But there is something we have both forgotten. You are our prey.”
He leapt from the dais, the crowd dissolving in front of him in a red mist, a mist spread thick with severed limbs and unwanted intestines as he gorged. I turned, my hand already deep in my pocket, reaching for my phone. He was beside me in an instant. “So, what did you think?” he whispered into my ear, desperate for my approval.
“You were perfect, kid.” I felt the electric buzz of my phone in my pocket. “Yeah…the kid’s a natural. Tell the PR people they were right, Omar here is the perfect face for the rebranding.” I pulled him close. Only two hundred and already the incarnation of a demi-god. “It’s predator and prey, Omar, just predator and prey.”