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Rated: 13+ · Chapter · Gothic · #2164720
A Chapter of my work in progress. A vampire struggles with his own demons.
Chapter 1

The Blood Call

The weak streetlight carves cracks in the shadows. People rushing from streetlight to streetlight avoiding the growing shadows, afraid of what is lurking just beyond the light’s reach, each breathe a sigh of relief when they arrive in the safety of the next light. Eyes pierce the darkness, unseen by those passing by.

“Fools! I could kill them all” The tall colorless figure suddenly felt a hunger growing.

He stays and watches a few more potential victims. With a sigh, he stands and leaves the safety of his spot. Sticking to the dimmer places he makes his way to a house he is quite familiar with. The smell of rot and filth is carried on the air from the house. The figure silently walks into the house. He sees a dirty man just sitting on the couch with a beer in his hand. He can smell the man’s filth and the sweet smell of the beer. The man on the couch does not even notice the colorless and silent figure sidle up behind him. As he grabs the man by his oily hair and pulls his head back, a barely noticeable smile makes its way across his face. Leaning in close, he begins to drink of the man’s blood. As he drinks, he sees everything the man has ever done or dreamed. These visions are almost as satisfying as the meal. As the dirty man inhales his last breath of the rancid house air, the pale one leans in close to his ear and whispers:
“Take my name to the heavens with you, I am Rystyk”.

And with this, the dirty man succumbs to the welcoming arms of death. Rystyk absently wipes the blood from his face with the back of his hand.

After letting the blood course through him for a time, he doesn’t even need to glance at a clock to tell him that he has spent too much time on this meal.

“ I have lingered here too long, “ Rystyk thinks to himself.

Heading towards the door, he looks back at the husk of the dirty man looking back at him. After just a moment’s debate on whether or not he had time to clean up, a sigh rapidly escaped his colorless lips as he returned to the center of the room. As he looks around the house full of filth, he detects the odors of food from meals eaten weeks ago rotting on the counters and on the floor.

“ I doubt there is even a garbage bag in this…place,” he says in a voice so low only he is able hear it.

He finds his way to the kitchen. After searching the greasy cupboards and drawers, he finds a box of unopened garbage bags covered in layers of grease and dust. Grabbing the box, he returns the living room to begin work.

As he effortlessly tears the body into several smaller pieces he remembers the images that he picked up from this meal. The story was almost the same as all the others. A father that was drunk too often and hit too hard was the normal. There was no money to buy a good education so he spends his life adrift. Taking his pain and anger out on all he met. He had punished several women who were unfortunate enough to end up in his grasp. Rystyk could imagine that he could still smell the blood of these women on the dirty man. He enjoyed the irony that the dirty man had been dealt the same brutal death that he had delivered to so many.

A faint hint of a smile comes across his face. He finished putting the remains of his meal in the three separate bags. Finding three separate places to put the bags without being noticed would be a challenge indeed. One comforting thought came across his mind,

“ I don’t think he will be missed or even noticed missing,” Another sigh and he picks up the bags.

Rystyk first heads to the city dump at a speed that makes him practically invisible to mortals, he buries the first bag so deep that it would be nothing but dust if it was ever found. With the same speed he headed towards the woods near town. He buries the second bag so not even wolves could resurrect these morsels. The final spot he finds is in the river. Since he has no need of oxygen, he could stay underwater as long as was needed with no troubles. Finding a deep spot of the river he jumps in with his bag and carries it to the bottom. He digs until he feels the current will not unearth his final resting spot.

“ I definitely need a shower and a change” He chuckles to himself as he noted how filthy and disheveled he had become.

Arriving home in the blink of an eye, he discards his ruined clothes. He emerges, fresh and ready to go seek a new meal. One last quick check in the mirror to make sure everything was right. After some last minute adjustments he was out into the night.

There was only one man in line at a bus stop. Rystyk could smell the sickening sweet smell of alcohol from two blocks away with his vampiric senses. As he approaches the bus stop, the man attempted to speak to Rystyk. Staggering, barely able to stay on his feet,

“Shpare a buck pal?” The words stumbled out of the drunken man’s mouth. His stringy dark hair was pulled into a greasy ponytail, half of which had fallen around his ruddy face. When he smiled at the tall icy-eyed stranger his black teeth were emitting the smell of decay, barely masked by the alcohol.

Knowing that if he gave the drunken man a dollar, it would not be used to end the hunger pain. The dollar would be instead used to infuse his blood with even more of the poison that was slowly killing him. He decided that it would make no difference in the drunken man’s pathetic existence, so he gives the man a single, wadded dollar bill.The drunken man sat on the bench looking down the street, holding tight to the dollar.

A brief eternity later, the bus pulls up the stop. The hiss of air announces its stop. Rystyk waits for the drunken man to board the bus. The man hands the dollar to the driver since his bill is too wadded to slip into the slot. He takes a seat as close to the front as he can. Rystyk works his way to the back of the bus. It was just Rystyk and the drunken man on the bus.

A few stops later, a dingy woman smelling of cat litter takes a seat and just stares out the window. He could tell that her life was pure agony.As the roma of cat litter and alcohol wafted through the bus, Rystyk’s hunger began to grow. He would have to feed again soon. He would get off after a couple of stops and hunt. Pity for the two passengers prevented him from making a meal out of them.

The drunk stirs in his stupor and a soft moan escapes from the lady. The bus rolls to a stow stop and a beautiful young lady entered and took a seat next to Rystyk. He could tell immediately that this lady was actually a man that lured other men to their deaths.

“Excuse me, could you walk me to my apartment? I live in a bad neighborhood and it is very scary to walk alone?” The she-male asked.

“It would be my pleasure to escort you home… miss.” Rystyk replied.

The killer, smiled seductively, thinking he had his next victim. He lost count of how many men he has lured and the mere thought of the next one excited him.

They ride in silence for a while. The killer would occasionally attempt small talk, but Rystyk would only gives brief and polite responses.

“ I get off at the next stop.” He told Rystyk.

Rystyk follows him off the bus. The killer leads him down a dark, side street with a smile on his face that human men would find enticing and irresistible. He finds the killer’s thoughts most provocative, thoughts of death and a cruel childhood.

“How far do you live from here?” Rystyk asks, playing the innocent victim.

“Right at the end of this street.” The killer answered.

As Rystyk follows him into the alley, the killer turns around and smiled at him.

“I don’t even know your name….miss.” Rystyk was playing with him now and was enjoying the game.

“Ginger. “ The killer breathes.

“Ginger, what a lovely name.” Rystyk says.

“Ginger” saunters up to him with all the seductive powers of a siren. If he were mortal, he would be helpless.Thinking him totally in her power, she goes in for the kill. Rystyk embraces her and bends down to kiss her neck. As his fangs enter her neck the blood flows into his mouth, warm and salty. He felt the warmth all through his body as he drank deep. The pure ecstasy nearly sent him reeling.

The story “Ginger” was giving him was of abuses so awful and painful that he had locked them deep into his mind to hardly ever surface as a memory or coherent thought. The draining was a release for “Ginger” and was welcomed. This response surprised Rystyk. His victims usually fought until he took the last drop of blood and the heart and eyes empty. His surprise made him pause for just a moment. The acceptance made the pleasure even greater, more like to lovers in a gentle and eternal embrace.

As “Ginger” collapses with a sigh into his arms Rystyk carried him to a secluded wood and buried him with care. This is confusing to him, he have never felt such compassion for one of his victims, but he felt that “Ginger” deserves at least that much care. He felt it sad that this poor soul was cared for more in death then ever in life.

Clouds begin to wrap the stars and cradle the moon. Rystyk looks up and wonders at the ominous ness of the dark clouds. The first drop of rain falls on his cheek as the first tear for his latest meal falls. Lightening lights up the forest, threatening to destroy the shield of the trees in an orange blaze.

Feeling the sun only a brief hour away, he decides to head back to the safety of his den. Enjoying the feel of the rain on his face, he takes his time and allows himself to get wet. Occasionally, lightning flashes across the sky catching a moment in light. Seconds later the soul-rattling rumble takes its message across the heavens.

Reaching his den, he silently enters and lights a small fire in the fireplace. He enjoys watching the fire dance, feeling its warmth caress his face. Thoughts of Ginger would not stop invading his mind. He wanted to stop thinking of him. The harder he seems to try to stop, the more he thinks about Ginger.

Reluctantly he goes to his bed. His sleep is tortured by dreams of blood, death and pain. Ginger would not leave him.
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