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Rated: E · Fiction · Fantasy · #1986379
This is an extract of a piece I have written, not sure how to end it though.
The hallway was silent. Lexon walked steadily along the passage, the heartbeats, growing louder. He walked to the kitchen and sat noting the comforts that people desire. Taking a glass Lexon poured some water, he sipped slowly feeling the coolness caress the inside of his body… All the while, the two dances vied for his attention.
The Quickstep, he sometimes danced in a silly fashion with his children, one two, one two and the slower but graceful waltz he saved for his wife. He found himself tapping his feet to an up-tempo beat his arms gliding gracefully across his body. He missed his family; being away for almost two months now. He knew going away was necessary; there were only a few left with his abilities. Many years ago, a great war took most of the Warriors; they were the people who were relied on to extract the essence. There were once many tribes, throughout the land now, though only a few existed.
He made his way slowly up the stairs while listening to where the sounds were coming from. He decided the quickstep deserved his attention first. He pushed the door open slowly; the two children lay in the beds, their arms, and legs splayed erratically over the bed covers. It always amazed him how the heart could beat so fast, yet the body remained still.
He crouched down by the bed of the child, nearest the door. Breathing deep, the essence flowed seamlessly. This was the best, his people could ask for, all the nutrients and taste they desired. He never felt guilty for taking from a person's essence or life force. It was never enough to harm them, just a little so his people did not die. In the morning, they would wake a little groggy, as though they'd had a bad night's sleep.
If asked, did he feel guilty for taking a person’s essence he would reply do most humans feel guilty for eating the animals that roam the earth. No, of course they did not. Meat was not necessary to humans; it was a primitive practise necessary hundreds of years ago. Now, though the human body could survive without meat. However, the essence he took from mortals was essential for the survival of his tribe.
The child stirred gently. Lexon retreated quickly to the shadows… waiting. Among his own people, he could be seen clearly. However, mortals could only see him as darkness, easily hidden in plain sight. He returned to the child’s bedside and continued to extract a little more essence. When finished, he smoothed the child’s forehead kissing the slightly furrowed brow.   
He extracted quickly from the girl, leaving the room quietly. Making his way towards the guardian’s room, he noticed the walls were devoid of pictures. His journeys into the human world gave him knowledge of their habits. One he found endearing was the simple pleasure they took in capturing a moment on a piece of plastic. Maybe in the hope of returning to that instant at some time. This home however had no moments, none. He cast his mind realising the emptiness that surrounded him.
Trying to ignore the foreboding feeling penetrating his mind, he entered the adult’s room. Lexon moved silently, he intended to take the essence of both in one go and leave. As the force flowed, it began to choke him. He coughed attempting to stop but it continued to force itself into his unwilling body.
Lexon cried out realising he made a fatal mistake. He remembered his grandfather telling him how their enemy defeated them by hiding among the humans. Not a battle as he believed but subtlety and conniving. This sickened him; he wished to die a warrior, not like this, away from his tribe and family.
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