Tender Veins

(A/N): This is a particularly strange story for me, because I swear to myself that I will never write about…you know, the V word. But I wrote this for some contest a while ago and never submitted it – forgot that I had even finished it – and while part of me wants to throw it out and forget that I ever wrote it, there’s something about it that I like. So, if you can stomach it, read on.

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Text copyright Lani Lenore

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                                                                   Tender Veins

                                                                              1

                The confessional booth was a small, claustrophobia-inducing closet.  The wooden walls were darkness themselves, and the bench was as hard as the floor of a coffin.  The decorative grate that served as a barrier between the priest and sinner held odd designs which prompted optical illusions if looked at from a certain angle.  The space was overall unpleasant.  It was cramped, musty, and there was little light.  How anyone with completely human notions of comfort could willingly climb into this place was unfathomable.  But these things did not bother Vic.   

                He waited patiently for his turn, though he heard the priest coming long before he had entered the adjacent stall.  He waited for the man to settle himself in his robes, watching his shadow’s distinct shape against the screen that separated them.  Vic’s keen eyes searched until there was no sign of movement and then he decided to begin.  He would have crossed himself but he couldn’t stand the burning sensation in his chest when he did so. 

                “Father,” he began in a customary fashion, his soft voice clear. “Forgive me, for I have sinned.  It has been – ages – since my last confession and my heart aches for it.”

                “Tell me your sins,” the priest bade.

                “First, I need to confirm, to see if my feelings of guilt are even necessary: is the drinking of blood a sin, even if there is no killing involved in it?”

                The priest’s voice was gentle – not at all appalled like most would have been. He’s heard it all, I suppose.

                “It is indeed, my son.  It is written in Genesis 9:4’: ‘But flesh with the life thereof, which is the blood thereof, shall ye not eat’.”

                “Then I have been sinning for years,” Vic confessed.  He had already known this in his heart.  He was different from the rest of the people in this world, and there was no salvation for him.

                “What should I do?”

                “As the Lord said, ‘Go your way and sin no more’.”

                “I’m afraid it’s not that simple.  I have tried to halt my sinful ways, but…”

                How can I deny my body what it needs to survive?  He wondered this as a familiar chill once again began to settle in his veins.  How can I be asked to reject what sustains me?