Author's note: Typically I don't start out a story with an Author's note, but, because this is unlike my other works, I thought it should come with a warning. This book is a HORROR story, in honor of the upcoming holiday: Halloween. If you do not appreciate gore, ghouls, or a high level of creepiness, please do not read on. This book was to "expand my writing genres" and is purely for fun. If you enjoy it, please note that little button on the left hand side of the screen or the "become a fan" icon on the right. Both are wonderful compliments I always appreciate. Anyways, happy reading and Happy Halloween!
Devour
The clock above the mantle ticks away the minutes, the seconds, before my reprieve. I watch it diligently, as if my life depends on it. Which, in a way, it does. Two minutes till mid-day, till freedom. I can hear the thump of my next victim walking down the side-walk. In two minutes, I'll be able to compel them to my doorstep. I shiver, a pleasurable sense that will be even more luxurious once I have a human body.
I can feel my old power, it throbs, just beyond my fingertips. It rains down, soaking the decrepit carpet, crawling towards me with such slowness that my chest aches. I groan as the first tendril makes contact. It snakes up and into me, a tingling pain that has been lost from me for a long time, too long.
It fills me and I can't help but smile. The pain is deeper now, like a knife being stabbed into me a hundred times over. My back stiffens, pops, as the bones become limber once again. My arms scream into their joints and I rejoice in the pain. When it is finished my body pulses, not just with the power, but with the need.
The human outside is closer now. I can feel its blood pumping as it makes its way past my home. I feel the vibrations as a heel strikes the cement. A woman, an easy prey. A grin slips across my features, pulling on my long dried lips. So long... I move towards the door, reveling in the feeling of my limbs obeying my command once more. My new-found power adds quickness to my step, something that will fade if I resist the call of the woman.
Outside, the sun is blinding. My eyes burn, threatening to distract me, but it isn't enough. The woman's blood thrums through my veins, pushing me along as if it is my own. She calls, not to me, but to another. It is enough to make me pause. Following behind her, so silently I missed it, is a child. A male. My teeth gnash in frustration. Which one, which one?
I know the rules of my imprisonment, I know that children should be protected, but the more I focus on it, the more I know of its presence, the more I hear it. Its heartbeat is faint and fluttering, weak. A sickly child. A burden on its parents. I can sense the woman's irritation as the child refuses her, refuses to obey. A nerve in my shoulder twitches, the one closest to the child. I slow my stride, slow my racing heartbeat. I walk towards the woman, keeping my eyes focused solely on her, even though everything else about me is zeroed in on the child.
I fall into step beside her, but she doesn't notice. Like me, she is entirely focused on the boy. "Ethan, don't dawdle," she scolds, her voice tight. I cock my head, trying to work my power into a transfer. It is harder than I remember, harder than the last time. Irritation builds inside me and I use it to push across the last few feet. Ah...I feel the woman's consciousness squirm under the pressure of my power. She stops walking and glances over her shoulder. She is now aware of me.
I use her building fear to press against the panes between our worlds. I feel pressure growing around me, fighting, resisting like a wild thing. My fists clench with concentration. Anger, violence, and hatred rise up and into my throat, making my powers respond to their fullest. I slide one gnarled finger through a crack in the wall, in the bubble that keeps my kind from entering the world of mortals. The world that was forbidden to me until today.
The woman, the poor doomed soul of my choosing, arches her back, her body accepting me even though her mind cannot. I ease into the growing gap, clutching onto her thin shoulders and hoisting myself up. I reach in through her mouth, extracting her soul in one swift movement. Her body falls, convulsing, a fish caught on dry land. Her soul lies limp in my hand, unresponsive.
My lip curls back in disgust. Souls have become weak things since my last release. I raise it to my nose, sniffing it to see if it is even worthy of consumption. There is no smell. There is nothing to this one, it won't fill me for long. My stomach rumbles, a warning. I press it to my lips, letting it slide it's way down into my belly. It swirls for a moment, lost, until my power begins to ravage it. In a moment, it is gone.
I stare down at the shell of the woman. She has stopped moving, like her soul, her body is limp. A trail of vomit leaks from her mouth and onto the cement. The child, the boy, is standing beside her, staring down with solemn eyes. I watch him, to see what he'll do. Usually, this is a private task for me, usually, I keep my attacks for dark alleys and mental institutions.
The boy leans down over his mother, but he doesn't cry. He kneels beside her, but his chubby hands do not push on her, do not check to see if she's alright. Instead, he reaches out a swollen finger and pokes her eye. She doesn't respond, her eyes remain open and it will be only moments before they glaze over in death. A body cannot survive without its soul for long. The boy pokes the iris again and my moment of fascination ends. If I let him, he'll ruin the body before it is useful to me.
I finish exiting the hole I made, relishing in the feel of lightness this world brings. The boy stops his poking, he looks up at me, and I swear he meets my eye. He grins foolishly, a simpleton. I grin wickedly at him, letting him see the rows of pointed teeth, the blood glistening between the ivory. He doesn't flinch, doesn't move. His eyes refuse to leave my face even as I reveal the horrors of what I am. Finally, his gaze falters, moves to examine a stick just outside of reach. I use the detraction to enter his mother.
I press her jaw open, using my powers to dislocate the jaw without breaking it. Her lips tear along the creases and blood seeps from them, coating her tongue. I move my way down her throat. It tightens against me, against the girth of my middle. I hear the crack of her vertebrae as I become too much for her body to accept. I grit my teeth and push harder, deeper. Finally, I reach her heart. It flickers with light, the last remnants of a clinging soul. I lick the surface as my body makes itself at home within my new host. Unlike the soul, the remnants are sweet. Her heart wasn't completely dead.
I open my new eyes to a world of vibrant color, and searing pain. My eyeball bursts in a splash of red as the boy jabs his new stick into my socket. My body tries to thrash and scream, but with all the damage I've done I can only sit, paralyzed by pain. My power rushes to heal my host as blood pours from me, blackening my vision. I am as useless as a human babe while in this state. I feel the stick ram into my mouth, hitting my teeth with wild abandon. The pain builds and I force my power to feed on it. It heals my spine and I stand.
I glare at the boy and reach up a hand to pop my jaw back into place. Blood stains my cheeks, running down my face like tears. I don't wipe them. Even if I cannot absorb this child, even if I cannot touch him, I can scar him. I let him look upon his mother, let him see her in all her gruesome glory, before I turn away from him. I walk down the street, unsteady with the foolish woman's narrow heels. A car hums from somewhere up ahead. It is filled with more victims. Four of them.
The car speeds towards us and I glance back at the child. He holds his bloody stick like a weapon, and I grin. As the car rumbles towards us, I throw myself in front of it. My body crashes into its grate, breaking my reformed spine into a million pieces. I fall to the ground as the driver slams on their breaks. The screams of the occupants echo through the air as my body thumps against the ground. Tires slam into my gut, but I do not feel them. Already I have detached myself from this body, my stomach growls for its next meal.
The people from the car race to my aid as my dying heart pumps the last of its blood through my exposed veins. I push myself out of my body, uncaring about the damage I do now. I leap from the mouth of the woman into the first male, a teenager. He is barely more than a child, barely outside of the protection, but barely is enough.
With a greedy grin I devour his soul. It is sour, rebellious, alive. It fights as my powers overtake it, harness it. It fills me for a whole minute while its friends stare at the seizing leftover, husk. I spring to the shoulders of the next one, a girl. Hers is sweet, like the remnants of the woman's, a candy balm that my powers swirl and torment before hacking to pieces. The last is another male, older than the rest. He is screaming; violent prayers pour from his mouth in toxic waves, but today, they mean nothing. Today is the day of demons, All-Hallows Eve, and he cannot be saved until the morrow. For now, his soul is mine to consume.