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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2265577-The-Monster
Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Comedy · #2265577
Stupidity can be downright scary sometimes
Screams Contest 1/19/22
Prompt: You are a monster being hunted by the most fearsome monster of all
1,883 words

When the door to my dorm room abode opened without a knock, I immediately knew who the visitor was. Even my "roommate" always knocked before entering, though, admittedly, she was ensorcelled by the power of my irresistible glamour. But not Brittany. Never Brittany. She just walzed stridently into the place, blonde locks bouncing off her shoulders in time with the jiggle of her half-uncovered breasts. I sometimes wondered if she even owned any tops that could actually stretch to the top of those things. If she did, I'd never seen it. But I supposed if I were an Instagram model, maybe I'd dress as if I were allergic to fabric too.

"Hi, Susie!" she said in a cheerful voice.

I sighed audibly, turning my attention back to my paper on gothic literature of the nineteenth century, a topic I was more than passingly familiar with. "I go by Susan, not Susie, Brittany. You know this. Suse? No. Susan? Great. Ms. Westenra? Even better. Susie? Absolutely not. Susie makes me sound like either a down syndrome patient or a stripper, and I'd really prefer my name not associate me with either one, thank you very much."

"I know you prefer Susan," she said, strolling over to my dresser, where she began to fiddle with the framed sketch of a bat that sat on its top. "But I'm just messing with you. 'Cause we're friends. And that's what friends do, right?"

While I attempted to keep the inevitable irritation that always accompanied her visits in check, it proved impossible not to at least roll my eyes. I turned to face her, intuiting that any attempts to work on my paper would be fruitless while she was in the room. "Actually, friends do as they're told, Brit." I cut off her name intentionally, hoping it would annoy her. It didn't seem to. It seemed that I was going to have to use my vampiric mesmerizing power on the insipid girl yet again. "Remember when you looked deeply into my eyes and I told you to do exactly as I command?"

"Yes," she said, annoyingly still facing away from me.

"Then, please do that." My voice came out sharp. Sharper than I'd intended.

She didn't seem to notice.

"It's just that I always see friends on TV giving each other a hard time. It's like a bonding thing or something," she said, perfectly sculpted brows furrowing as she gazed dimly at the sketch.

Sometimes I wondered why a girl that looked like she did seemed to have even less actual social interaction than I did. She seemed to take her social cues almost entirely from media. As far as I knew, she didn't suffer from my particular condition and could go out during the daytime.

"Sometimes what you see on television doesn't actually apply to the real world." I attempted to attract her gaze, so I could put the whammy on her and get rid of the girl once and for all. At first, I'd thought that having a pretty girl to do my bidding would be useful. After all, this particular one had somehow managed to attract far more followers on Instagram than I'd managed to gain over nearly two centuries of life. Or, well, undeath.

It was for that reason that I'd decided to attend college again. The world was quite different now than it had been in the 1800s when I had last attended. Last time, everyone had been obsessed with not catching cholera. This time, it was COVID. Last time, harness racing was all the rage. This time, it was football.

"It doesn't?" she turned, giving up on figuring out what the sketch depicted to turn her full--if still woefully inadequate--brain power toward comprehending our conversation. She stared at me wide-eyed, blinking twice.

I stared right back at her in disbelief, mentally revising my estimate of her feeble intelligence downward yet again. "Um, yeah. It doesn't. See TV shows are what's called fiction. And fiction equals 'not real'."

Brittany's face scrunched up, the grinding of the gears in her slow-moving brain almost visible in her delicate features. Then, her eyes lit up. "Except for reality shows, right? 'Cause they're reality."

I fought the urge to roll my eyes again. It really wasn't fair. I mean, this girl had to be like one fucking IQ point above literal idiocy.

"Pretty sure they fake most of that stuff too. You know, to maximize ratings and stuff."

"Ratings?" she asked, her eyes going as vacant as her brain.

Jesus Christ. "Those numbers that tell TV show makers how many people watch their show?"

"Oh," she said, looking confused. "Right."

I considered explaining further but quickly discarded the notion as Brittany began to twirl a lock of her vibrant golden hair, seeming fascinated by the circular movements of her own finger. Instead, I decided to simply ask what I really wanted to know. "Brittany, do you have any other friends? Besides me?"

"Of course I do, Susie. James and Jenny!" She beamed at me.

James and Jenny were my other two thralls. My thralls. They tolerated Brittany approximately as well as I did. Which meant that Brittany didn't actually have any friends. Staring into her cobalt blue eyes, long lashes blinking as they awaited my response, I suddenly felt kind of bad for her. Maybe I'd put the poor thing out of her considerable misery. I'd probably be doing her a favor if I sucked her dry. "Why don't you join us for dinner tonight?"

Brittany looked surprised. Probably because I'd never actually invited her anywhere before. "Really?"

"Sure! Come back at midnight."

She frowned. "That's really late."

I nodded. "I'm a late eater."

"What are we having?"

"I'm on an all-liquid diet, but I'm sure that James and Jenny will bring some solid food. Maybe a bird, if you're lucky. I know that all of you require a bit more protein than I do."

Brittany shot me a puzzled look as she nodded. "Bird? Do you mean a bird like chicken?"

"Something like that," I waved a hand dismissively, not wishing to get into a discussion on the quirks of thrall cuisine.

"Um... okay..." she said uncertainly.

I smiled as she walked unsteadily out the door.

***

At midnight, Brittany entered my abode uninvited, as always. The ponytail that her shimmering blonde hair was drawn into slapped her back as her long legs carried her inside. She stopped with a definitive jiggle. "Hi, Jimmy! Hi, Jennifer!"

"James," corrected my first thrall.

"Jenny," corrected the second.

"We talked about this, Brittany," I said. "Remember? Earlier tonight?" Why the hell weren't my hypnotic commands working on this dimwitted girl?!

"Oh," said Brittany, frowning. "Right." She clearly didn't remember. Or didn't care. Was she simply too stupid to be succeptible to my glamour? Oh, well. It didn't really matter. She wouldn't be troubling me any longer after tonight.

I rose from my seat, giving the girl a close-mouthed smile so as not to reveal my canines just yet. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable?"

"Oh... okay..." she said, clearly not comfortable. "W-where's the food?"

"Oh, it just arrived," I said, finally allowing my long canines to pop free as I circled behind my prey.

James and Jenny looked excited, squirming to the edge of their seats.

Brittany's head turned from side to side. "I don't smell any chicken. Is it f-fried?"

"Oh, no," I replied, pausing behind her. "We like our dinner to be fresh."

"That makes sense," the shapely blonde nodded. "Less calories."

I rolled my eyes before brushing the silken tresses from her neck with my fingertips in a sensual motion.

"Um, what are you doing, Susie?" she asked.

"Don't worry about that," I purred, leaning forward to bite into her creamy flesh. Just before I could puncture her artery with my fangs, however, she twisted away, rising to her feet.

"I'm not into all that lesbian stuff, if that's what this is about!" she said, eyes fearful. "I'm strictly a guy girl."

A lock of hair fell over my face, having come loose from my tight bun. Now the girl manages to come up with a bit of intuition? Completely wrong intuition, but still! Damn my inability to glamour her!

"It's not like that, Brittany," I said, taking care to remove any hint of irritation from my soothing tone. "Have a seat."

Warily, she took a seat again, the tendons in her neck popping with tension. That was annoying. Tense tendons always made zeroing in on the artery far more difficult. It seemed I would need to get the girl relaxed again without the benefit of mesmerization.

Instead, I placed my hands on either side of her neck and began to massage her taut muscles. "I was only trying to give you a massage."

"Oh!" said Brittany, suddenly relaxing. "That makes sense. I'm so sorry! It's just that sometimes girls tell me I'm pretty and come on to me, and, well... nevermind. My bad."

I blew out an irritated breath, sending the loose strand of hair flying outward from my lips, then resolved to try again. As I leaned forward, I caught a whiff of her perfume. "I love your perfume," I purred, extending my fangs, and preparing to bite. "What is it?"

"It's actually 'Catholic Schoolgirl' by Ariana Grande," she said. I fought the temptation to roll my eyes for the seventeenth time that day, determined to finally sink my teeth into this girl. Only a girl with the brain the size of a pea would actually buy that shit. I supposed it fit.

"It's made with actual holy water," she continued. I bit down into her neck and instinctively sucked a mouthful of hot, sticky liquid from her body, just as her final words triggered a warning alert in my brain. Holy water?! I swallowed just as I realized I shouldn't. Unclamping my jaws from her neck, I staggered backward, already feeling the burn of her blood down my throat.

She turned to look at me, touching her neck. Her eyes widened as she saw blood on her fingertips. "I think your fingernails must have dug into my neck a little or..." she started, but her words trailed off as she looked at me. Her manicured brows furrowed, perfect nose wrinkling. "Is everything alright, Susie?"

I opened my mouth to reply, but choked up blood instead. An inferno now raged in my stomach, rapidly expanding outward.

"I think maybe the chicken didn't agree with you or something..." Brittany said in a concerned voice.

I wanted to say, "You think? Or maybe you don't think. I already told you I was on an all-liquid fucking diet, bitch!"

But I couldn't. My death was only seconds away.

After two hundred years, fending off rival vampires and countless Van Helsings, I had finally been defeated by a superior foe...

...a fucking Instagram influencer.

As the rest of my body incinerated, and I felt my soul drop through the floor, speeding to its final destination, I rolled my nonexistent eyes an eighteenth time. I was about to be the laughingstock of hell for all eternity. Oh, goodie.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2265577-The-Monster