Thursday, November 7, 2013


Then it started. They dragged the victim into the concrete, circular pit. He looked around, trembled, scanned the galleries and sat down with his back against the wall. Must have been cold being all bare and all. Eerie silence. no one said a word. The guy in the pit hugged his knees and slowly rocked from side to side. 

While he's rocking, let me give you a few details. The pit is shaped like the inside of a big can... maybe twenty feet deep and fifteen feet across. Three tiers of flip-down stadium seats go 'round the top, with twenty one per row, plus three narrow aisles (with concrete steps) leading down. Industrial fixtures bathe all in a weak, dull glow. The audience, made up of Anti-Enchantment Bureau scientists, functionaries and personnel, including a few guests, such as the two filmmaker kids sits politely. Chimes sound... not too loud. Just right. Tiers go dark. An ever so slightly flickering, focused beam lights the pit. 

Tomas enters wearing that black, leather Speedo thing they insist upon. Some bureau hair stylist has really done a number on his long, wavy hair, but he's vain, so that part he likes. The victim sees, but pretends not to notice (denial). Rocking stops. Tomas never looks up into the stands, approaches the 'prisoner' and lifts him up, one hand under each arm. At first the man just hangs there, but then instinct takes over. He kicks, thrashes about and yells - No! No! No! Tomas plays cat, lets him loose and stands back, as the pathetic victim tries to scale the walls. This goes on for a while, til the vampire slaps him down. The man tries again. Tomas slaps harder. The victim contracts into a fetal position and sobs. Tomas sits down next to him and strokes his body sympathetically. The man shudders. Then the vampires pries away an arm, raises it to his mouth and slowly 'tastes' the fingers. The sobs grow louder. The man trembles uncontrollably. Tomas goes - Shhh... shhh... shhh... Then he draws the first two fingers of the right hand into his mouth and quickly bites them off. A few of the witnesses groan and cringe at the sudden 'SNAP' of the bones. But the victim is silent, though he shakes as if fueled by high powered lithium batteries. (you've seen those little toys for sale on street corners. you know what I mean). Then he forcefully takes hold of the victim's shoulders, rolls him over on his back, straddles his belly and with two rapid, focused exhalations shoots each into an assigned eyeball blinding the man on the spot. It's as if the guy gouged out his eyes with his own two fingers. He bucks. He groans. He screams. Blood is everywhere. Tomas is a vampire, after all. He ignores all external stimulation, as he rips and bites and feasts. But just as it's over, seconds before the viscous mess ignites into 'cold' blue flames and disappears, some idiotic cretin up above cheers and whistles, breaking the vampire's drugged stupor and drawing his undivided attention.

No one so much as breathes, even Doctor Franklin, as the cat-like life-eater (p.c. term for vampire) vaults up passed the rail and makes another kill. 

Tomas has principles, after all. He hates pandering to this crowd. And the inescapable rule is NEVER take pleasure in a vampire's kill.

The one in the stands had it coming...

Pity his neighbors got splattered with gore...


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1 comment:

John L. Harmon said...

His neighbors should be proactive and carry plastic covering for spontaneous bouts of gore! : )