Chapter 2.

 

 

Ah evening, I stretched, I don’t know why, I had no need to, vampire’s muscles don’t seize during sleep like their human counterparts, just habit I guess. I slept under the floor boards, under carpet, I presume others of my kind have coffins, as is the popular trend in the world view, but I prefer the floor boards, it’s much more Friday the  13^th, what can I say I’m a fan of all things horror, even my own work. 

My dwelling was far from spectacular, small bungalow, abandoned long ago by the last people who lived here, I guess they moved into the village, my house was just outside, about half a mile outside and quite covered by tress and weeds, no-one ever came here, it was to eerie which suited me to the ground. It had no electricity of furniture or delicate ornament’s, just a grandfather clock which stopped working years ago and an ancient fridge circa 1950’s in the little kitchen. One bedroom, which is where I slept, in the floor of course and a tiny garden, well over run by nature which leads into a back road, so popular in these parts, south east Ireland that is.

 All I needed from this house was shelter during the day, which it did without fault and I return the favour by making sure the walls stay strong against heavy over hanging trees. I like it, quaint and dusty, like a cottage from a postcard, without the colour and summer beauty, but it had its own beauty, dark, gothic almost. 

A night’s hunting was in order I think, it always thrilled me to take what other’s don’t want to give. There was no playing, no grand scheme to the hunt, I merely like to take it, straight and quick. I hated the portrayal of vampires in the popular fiction writings of today, the elaborate story, the having to connect with your kill humans are just blue creatures, food, eat and be gone, do humans talk and have a relationship with a carrot before they devour it, no, so why should I ,all I need is there blood. 

Leaving my resting place, I knew I had to travel a bit before my thirst was quenched; never eat near your home, a god lesson which I learned myself, the last thing you want is to attract attention to yourself or your dwelling. Ah town, Wexford, that was my hunting ground, it was small to say the least, a few thousand people, a hospital and a good retail street, oh and a quay that was all it offered to most. For me however it offered perfect cover. Tight knit buildings and a lazy council meant houses were not close together, lighting was never fixed, so darkness filled every corner of this dinner plate. 

The plus side was the homeless; droves came through here to get to the rest of Ireland. Wexford town was near a sea port, Rosslare they call it, so all foreigner’s, holiday makers and people looking for a new life come through here, most without people to look for them, or better still miss them in anyway, like the plums of Eden they filled my gut night after night with little attraction to guards or media. Yes, Wexford was a safe haven if you will, I’ve never seen or sensed my own kind here, save my master in the early days, but he was long gone, ashes in the soil by now I guess.

 I like to feed near the bridge that connects the town to the country, over the Slaney river, most drunks, drug dealers and homeless frequent here, it provides great cover for hidden business and shelter from the rain, which being Ireland happens quite a lot, rich picking for one such as me. The gravel of the sea bed, is perfect, low hanging rounded concrete lets me hide and see all at the same time. There was nothing right now, just the river, settled but plopping with fish and birds feeding for the night. No humans, but it was early in the night, who knows what tasty treats will come this way when the clubs and pubs close, or indeed when those younger one are looking to score their high for the night. I never liked to feed on those whose blood is soaked in chemicals, it leaves a bad taste in my mouth, but sometimes you have to make do with what you got.

 Ah, here he comes, meal on legs, he walk’s with his head down, covered with the style of the addict of the day, tight jeans and a over sized hooded top. I cant search minds like my master could, but I didn’t need to with this one. He was 17, maybe 18, thin from hunger and clearly likes his highs, the bridge was a notorious spot to score cocaine, speed and whatever else is on the menu of the day. Payment consisted of money, sex or favours, this poor boy had used all three it seemed. The street lights above gave me a faint look at his white skin, so white it rivalled mine, the cheeks of his face were sullen and shrunk, no life for a young lad, I was doing him a favour really, taking him out of this miserable existence. I do hope he hasn’t scored in a few days though.

  This would be swift, I lunged, he didn’t even fight back, he tasted salty, a user but I welcomed his willing blood. The life drained from him quickly, his limp body surrendered under my power, two minutes and it was all over, full I threw the body into the river, he was at peace now and I was content. The night was still young, I think I’ll have a little pleasure before morning, a little taste of life in the world again, I’m going to see what this little town has to offer me, as a sexual being not crazed with hunger.

 

Ah how the mighty have fallen, Jesus was I a vampire of the night or a weakling b***h of a master not shown. Cradled in this sophomoric excuse for a house, I pondered, where the high goes. It was tantalizing, rising happiness and pleasure from my gut and groin as blood flowed freely from the parasites of the earth, down my willing throat, but now, now, I feared the cane of a society that knows not of my existence.

 

I am a child; clinging to a mother’s breast as I suck the last drop of milk from her broken body to sustain myself, then look on as she slumps in a corner and cry’s for release. Release from a demanding child not fit for love or succour. I dug my sharp claws into the temples of my lifeless head, my own blood washing the filth of the nights’ adventures away, but the stain on my mind was never easily wiped away.

 

The endless killing, how I loved it, grabbing a pert, toned young body within my hands, ramming their lesser spirits against a wall, I always made sure I grinded my stiffened c**k against theirs, to show them that as they may be dinner they also served my hunger for sexual dominance and heated arousal, but now it was gone. My hunger abated for tonight, but the thrill of the new and the thrill of another masculine slave was gone. I hated it, I hated the revenge my mind played on me, did I not succumb to its every desire, did I not feed my willing heart, but as the child I was to a mother of land, my mind wanted more and more and more, it never satisfies.

 

I got up to go to my resting place, maybe as I sleep a kind of death might happen, an immortal body rested would not please the ache I feel inside, but for now at least I could sleep without hunger in my bowls, only deal with the hunger in my loins.

Author's Note

Be Honest!

Reviews

[eatmills]

Fire your editor. even if you are writing with an Irish accent it is no excuse. That's honesty; now for the fluff...

I've read a lot of vampire books short of the whole Twilight and Anne Rice (Way too popular for me), but I don't ever recall reading about a same sex vampire well at least the way you've written it. A vampire with Freudian issues and a boner!

More honesty...

The whole carrot metaphor has been cancelled out. For not even I, have pressed up against the chicken before I ate it.

Overall... Interesting good. Develop more, call me. I'll have a pint of Kilkenny while I read it.

[Amila Jay]

I like the description you have done here, a good chapter:)

[zero binty]

Scary. And scary good. But why the crap is everybody obsessed with vampires?

[patricia]

Loved the my dwelling paragraph, could have read on an on about that kind of stuff, sorry I cant relate to the vampire theme, I couldnt even watch Dracula or Frankenstein when I was a kid. The leaving my resting place paragraph, I kept relating to someone cruising for sex and payment, it was a realy good write.I feared the cane of a society that knows not of my existence...was thought provoking. Your description of the addicted 17 year old was actually very moving. I would love to read you in another type of genre, but I dont feel like reading on tonight. I will read a few more chapters when you write them to see, because I am sure your writing will stay around in my head for a while, and I will probably want to come back and read what was extremely deep stuff again. Thanks Thomas. I did my best. Sorry for any reviews I havent done on topics that are not for me, but hope you will continue to send me read requests, for the interest I have in parts of your work. Bye for now. Trish.

[Fragilebrokendreams]

Wow, I now want to read more! Its so intriguing and fascinating! Well done, I have no complaints just comments. Wonderfully done.

[jennifer little]

great write i loved reading it nice work by the way thanks for sharing this with me i enjoyed reading it

[Marie]

Chapter 2 or 3?

[Sunflower]

i really like this, nice write you have here

[Marie]

This well-drawn vampire seems conflicted. Does he like who he is or hate it?