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Just Another V On The A Train – Part II

Part II: Who Am I? What Am I?

Eye death

Image by doug88888 via Flickr

My hunger temporarily at bay, there was nothing to divert my attention from my unwanted hostess. She had not moved since surrendering her plate to me. Her narrow features pulled into an expression, which on a normal person, I would have called amusement.

“You find me funny?” Anger laced the words I spat at her. I loathed her smugness. My fist itched to clear the smirk from her ruby lips.

Her dark brow rose at my tone. A warning I was well acquainted with, but ignored. I wanted answers and was willing to court her ire to get them.

“I find everything amusing. When you’ve lived as long as I have, you learn to take very few things seriously.”

Her movements were languid as she rose to stand next to her chair. Her brilliant blue eyes lit on me expectantly. We went through the same routine every night. I was to rise and follow her into the adjoining room. There she did things to me I tried like hell to forget. Tonight, I decided to be more obstinate than usual. I planned to unravel the riddle that had become my life. Whether I cooperated or not, I was going to suffer.

“Are you really going to challenge me on a matter as trivial as this? One slender arm dropped over the back of her vacated chair. Her wisp of a figure fell into a relaxed pose. I braced myself for flight. By now I had seen how quickly she could strike. When she did move, a game of slap and tickle would not be her intent.

“Who am I?” I noticed a tremble in my voice. I detested myself for the show of weakness.

“Get up,” She ordered. Her full ruby lips curved into an inviting smile; but her electric blue eyes…they told a different story. A story you prayed you would never have the misfortune to read.

“Who am —, “ She leapt upon me! One second she lounged against her chair and the next she was hovering over me. She held my short hair in a vise-like grip and yanked until she exposed my throat. I pounded and scratched her offending hand, all to no avail. I screamed in stark terror as her head lowered. Her fangs punctured my neck with a brutality my mind refused to accept. My screams rent the air until I lost consciousness.

I came to slumped in my chair. My tormentor sat in front of me, perched on the edge of the dinning table. I watched in disgust as she licked flecks of my blood from her lips. My hand sought my wound and found a trail of wet stickiness down the side of my neck. As my fingers gingerly pressed the wound, I could feel it mending. In a few minutes, there would be no wound or pain. Not even a scar left as a reminder.

“Will I become like you?” I croaked, frightened all over again at the prospect.

“You humans,” she laughed. “You watch too many movies and read too many books.”

“Has it been so long you’ve lost any shred of humanity? At one time, even you were human.” I reminded her.

“Don’t speak on subjects of which you know nothing. I was never human.” She informed me. Her eyes locked on my bloody fingers.

I didn’t know what to make of her words. She had ravaged my throat on a regular basis since bringing me to this forsaken place. It had been hard to digest the fact that I was the captive of a vampire. If she wasn’t a vampire, what in hell was she? My mind reeled as I pieced together her actions. I mentally replayed every word we had exchanged. Actually that was all there was to review. My memory before being brought here was lost to me.

I noticed she had left my question unanswered. Was that deliberate? Would I eventually become a creature like her?

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Just Another V On The A Train – Part I

Part I: Who and What Am I?

Eye death

Image by doug88888 via Flickr

“You’re such a slob. I go through all the trouble of providing you with a nice dinner and you go at it as a pig would to a trough!”

I had devoured everything on my plate, cleared the serving dishes, and emptied the pots on the stove of their contents. My stomach clenched; a painful reminder of my still raging hunger. I needed more food. Across the table from me sat her plate, untouched and laden with the night’s fare.

Without saying a word, I reached across the table, grabbed the plate, and dragged it over the frilly tablecloth toward me. The dish was more than halfway on my side of the table when one of her talon-like hands latched on to the rim of the plate. I tugged, but the plate it did not budge. Her strength surprised me, given her small delicate demeanor. Then I remembered her outside shell was nothing but a facade. Meek and mild would never be two words used to describe her. Only days before, she’d thrown me more than fifteen feet. I wondered how far I would have traveled if I hadn’t slammed into a wall, which seemed to spring up out of no where.

My mouth watered as the aroma from the roast tantalized my nose. I needed more food! The red nails on her hand, which clutched the dish, reminded me of drops of blood against its whiteness. It should have made me nauseous but it only added to my burning appetite. Our gazes locked, suspended in a moment that felt as if it were hours. They say the eyes are the mirrors to the soul. In hers, I saw blue pools of nothingness. Did this mean she had no soul? I wondered as she stared into my eyes, could she see the contempt I held for her? The desire I had to bury my fork in her heart. Did she have a heart?

Her deceitful eyes fell away and with a flourish, she relinquished the plate. I brought it to me and greedily shoveled fistfuls of food into my mouth. I had lost patience with trying to gather morsels by fork a few minutes after I had sat down to dinner. Hence her snide, but not untrue comment.

What was I becoming? This unquenchable need for food was not the person I knew, but how did I know that when I could not remember my name, if I had family and friends, or where I lived?

 
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Posted by on June 26, 2011 in Creative Writing, Horror, Literary

 

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