Hatred: part one in New human

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Action and Adventure  |  House: Booksie Classic
A girl, once a cannabal, is now making an effort to blend in with humans and even save humanity from the coldblooded killers that she had once lived amongst.

Submitted: January 09, 2012

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Submitted: January 09, 2012

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Hatred: part one in new human

By Kaylee Croston

 

 

 

 

I hated him. All he wanted in this world was me and I hated him. I hated him for what he had done and who he had killed, the very same reasons that I hated myself. A pleasant suitor for my past, and if I had been Nightshade still then I could have brought myself to love him. Alas I am Nightshade no longer, an impaler no longer.

Therefore, I hated him. I needed no man to take care of me that is the way of my family and not the way of a human. A human is of herself, and no one else. Still it flatters me that he chased me though, sick as it is. All the way to the forest that only I dare go. Nobody else dare come close. He must care for me deeply, deeper then predicted, perhaps his love for me came from his soul. If impalers had such a thing.

I am a disgrace, a quitter, just a godforsaken cannibal. I hate that word; the consumption of human flesh is dreadful and disgusting but deserves no such title. Besides, impalers do it all the time. But I have chosen a different path, the path of a human, an omnivore who’s stomach does not growl at the sight of homosapian corpse. It is a lonely path, but an honorable one.

I now stood by the rushing river, unbalanced and dangerously close. I silently wonder what emotions surround you when death is at your feet. I am a human but my impaler roots and killer past pull psychotic strings. Suicide is often the cause of death for impalers, impalers that have gone mad from their diet. At least that is what the elders think; I think it came from the guilt. The guilt of murdering what they ate and eating what they murdered. The guilt from eating their companions. Though it often makes the skin of the human crawl it was the impaler way.

I should be cursed. I am the impaler of all impalers, well my ancestor was. The evil in which Bram Stokers Count Dracula was based is my great grandfather. He would be ever disappointed as the rest of my family is.

Before I knew what I was doing I had lost focus and with it, had lost my balance, falling into the rushing river. My mother had taught me how to swim, not that it was any use. I was at the mercy of Mother Nature now. A shame that she had never been kind to me before… I felt river water rush into my lungs as I went under. There was no longer time to think for it was my time to die. I couldn’t accept it, not now. My life was valuable as an impaler (there was a fine attached to my execution), but even more so now. I was saving the human race, how could I die when I was human’s very last hope? I was humanities savior; humanity was to die shortly after I did.

Suddenly, a strong, rough arm pulled me up. I was dizzy and the coldest I’ve ever been. I forced my eyes open. There all around me stared the curious faces of people, not impalers, but humans. A stupid mistake put me in deaths welcoming arms but humans pulled me back out. I was not humanities savior any longer, Humanity was now mine.

 

-to be continued

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© Copyright 2017 Kaylee Croston. All rights reserved.

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