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 Content Rating Notice: Recommended for Readers 18 Years and Older Only |
| >> Static Item >> Other >> Horror/Scary >> ID #1166798 |   |
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Fire Eyes It was dusk when Tom decided to take a shortcut home, by cutting through the graveyard. He was passing a tombstone when a man stepped out in front of him, and an arm swept around Tom’s neck. “Don’t scream, or you’re dead, son,” a voice hissed in Tom’s ear. The man was small, and not much taller than Tom. He was wearing a black suit and a white shirt with a red tie. He smelt of damp earth, and of worms. The whites of his eyes glowed red. ‘Fire Eyes’, Tom’s Grandma had called them. “Don’t get coming round here no more, Tom,” she’d said. Your Grandpa’s come back from his grave. He’s got ‘fire eyes’ that glow in the dark. No, I’m not crazy, Tom, I’ve seen him. Now get the hell out of here and run just as fast and as far as you can.” Tom hadn't known what she'd meant until later, and too late. Tom flinched when the man holding him licked his neck. “Saw you come in here and I couldn’t believe my luck,” he said. “You should have listened to the rumours, and stayed away from the bone-yard, son." He urged Tom forward towards a denser patch of shrub and away from the track. “Don’t kill me Mister, I’ll do what you want,” he said. “I know,” the man laughed dank breath into Tom’s face. ‘Ain’t you a cute little thing. How old are you, ten?” “Twelve.” "You ain't going to get any older," The Vampire said, and pushed Tom up against a huge cottonwood. “Well let’s get to it, open that shirt collar, wide, boy.” “Do you want me to take my shirt right off?” Tom pulled down his collar to reveal the twin bite marks on his neck. The man smiled, knowingly. “You’ve done this before,” he said, his fangs dripping saliva. “Who’ve you been feeding, your Ma, or your Pa?” Tom shook his head. “No, my folks never touched me.” “Well someone has, right?” The man’s eyes glowed with a renewed intensity, like the flames of Hell. “Just the twice,” Tom said. “After he did it the first time I asked him not to do it again, but he was bigger and stronger than me.” “But you never snitched on him, whoever he was - right?” The man was confident of Tom’s co-operation now.. “No, I never did tell on him, the next time I just killed him.” The man froze, just like Grandpa had, when Tom rammed a pencil, every bit as sharp as the one he’d rammed into Grandpa’s heart, into the stranger’s. A solitary bead of blood dripped from the wound. Then slowly the man toppled, dissolving into dust as he fell. “Go to Hell,” Tom said, and his eyes glowed red. “You too, Grandpa,” he cried. “I’m done crying over you. I’m glad I killed you. You made me into a vampire too, Grandpa. "You made me one of the living dead!"
© Copyright 2006 Zozo (UN: tonyb at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved.
Zozo has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work. |
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