By Jane B. Night
He didn’t see me watching him. Even if he’d noticed, he would have assumed I was flirting rather than reading his mind.
I climbed off the bar stool and followed him. I couldn’t allow him to make it back to his apartment. Once he crossed the threshold of his hallowed abode, I’d have to be welcomed inside.
Instead, I waited until his feet hit the pathway that cut through the park, then I grabbed him, wrapping my hands around his throat so he couldn’t speak.
“I know what you are,” I whispered into his ear.
The thoughts going through his head were a jumble, but I understood his question.
“I was born before the pyramids stood.” I kept my voice low, but anger sharpened every word. “I’ve seen the cycle repeat on an endless loop. Innocent girls making daisy wreaths in the fields. Hopeful young women handed into the arms of eager husbands. Then, men like you enter the picture, and those husbands return in pine boxes, if they manage to return at all.”
The man tried to shake his head. He didn’t understand. He was sure I’d made a mistake.
“You see the grass underneath your feet? It is growing from soil that has soaked up the blood of a thousand men. Some died for faith. Some fortune. Some to serve kings who wished to expand or defend their land. Then, there are men like you. ”
His mouth formed the word “no,” and his twisted face turned violet.
I smiled down at him. He couldn’t deceive me, despite deceiving himself.
“If I allow you to live, you will take your place in the history books beside Hitler, Stalin, and Mussolini. I missed them. The blood of the people they killed is on my hands. You won’t add to that stain. I won’t let you chase the power you seek. This world cannot be shaped in your image. Too many men have tried to make their utopias, and all have failed. I know what you want to do, but I will not be haunted by the wails of more widows because of you.”
His eyes bulged as his mind raced, but I was hungry and growing tired of my prey.
I sunk my fangs into his neck, his blood staining my lips, but never my hands.
Can you guess which song from the 1950's inspired this story? Share in the comments!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
This was short but so so good. Well done! No idea what song it is, but I love it!
Nice introduction of a world. I could see this being a prologue for a novel.
Interesting read. Not sure of the song, but my first thought was “Where have All the Flowers Gone?
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Cool story
You created such an interesting world in so few words. Nice job!
This was a really good and fast story. Well done, and I am not a vampire fan! Still this was very good.
It was great i wish ot was a nook though. I think i want to make a book similar to this but the character is a werewolf.