She clambered within the empty streets like a young Ratling. Her frail body was twig-like, but she moved like a stealth cat, stalking. She sensed something in the air. A ripple of power. And she seek it for its influence. She is a Nosferatu. An undead whose body have wasted away long before the New Blood was infused into her. Her kinds feasted on tainted and rancid flesh, which caused their body to appear skeletal and frails. They do not have the luxury of the Vamps to feast on pure Life. The Nosferatu take only what have been discarded. But it is their taste for decay that identify their marking.
She skittered to a pause as a shadow appeared in front of her. She screeched in surprise.
“What’s your hurry, childe?” said the shadow in a hoarse whisper.
She sensed a great power from this mysterious figure. His body was bent in a stoop and he was clothed in rags. His legs were thin and dirty bandage wrapped around the feet. Long fingers grasp a walking stick that have seen too many blows. His face dimly lit by the pale moonlight. It was his eyes that glowed with emblem fire. He did not look like a Vamp, nor was he a Nosferatu. But his feature appeared Rat-like.
She crouched on her hands and knees, posing in a strike stance. She hissed, bearing sharp teeth.
“Am I not the one you seek?” the figure asked.
The figure limped forward, putting heavy weights on the walking stick.
“Unless it is the current of power,” continued the figure, advancing forward, “that you must have scent, rippling in the air.”
She dodged backward as he approach her. She encircled him like a tigress. He kept his fire-eyes on her. He reached his hands forward to her, and again she leapt back, hissing.
“Why won’t you join me, childe?” the figure said, “I can teach you many great things.”
She spat at him, her spit fell short of his rags. She sprinted away from him, as fast as she can scurried. The Rat-figure watched her go with sadness. “Younglings…” he said with discontent.
She scurried as fast as she could, a bit shaken and angry. She had just met a powerful Master, of what, she does not know. And here, she was searching for a master. But that one in rags was not the one she sought. She sensed an imbalance of Power within him.
She stopped cold. She came to a spot, an open square. It was dark and a great chill ran down her spine. Even the moonlight did not dare peaked around this part of the deserted street. It was dead silent. Her sharp ears seemed muffled. Her wide eyes surveyed the area, trying to find the source of her dread. Her eyes came upon something in the shadow. A face!
She crouched still, her eyes peering into the darkness. A pale face was all there was within a shroud of shadows. She grew frightened. She did not dared to move, but she felt drawn to stare at the face. It did not move. It seemed to be…..sleeping.
Her heart thumped loudly in her ears. It beat irregularly due to the different mechanism of an undead heart. The heart that pumps blood drunk from decayed flesh. Her breathing became rasp, as she suddenly felt the current of energy rippling around her and making her flesh tingling. The face moved, or rather, it shifted so slightly one would not have seen it moved. It’s dark shadow eyes set upon her direction.
She is petrified. Her emotions running rapidly away from her. Then, she felt a sudden hot anger. A burning rage, now. She howled angrily at the shadow. She yelled obscenity.
From the shadow, glistering crimson arm extended from the black void. Followed by legs, feet, torso, and a head hanging low. The creature plopped out of the dark shadows and crouched on the street. It slowly raised its head and set piercing glassy eyes at her direction.
Her fearless barking slowly faded. She could not scare off this one. Curiosity killed her cat. She was drawn by the power, and now that she have come face to face with it, she felt foolish.
The creature gave a horrifying roar. It slowly advanced forward. Each stepped thundered the street. The young Nosferatu whimpered with fright. She slowly backed away. The creature snarled with drools foaming from its fleshless mouth. Its teeth glistered like glass. It came upon her, with speed like bolts of lightening. Its roar trailed behind it as if the monster’s cry was badly dubbed.
Her quick reflex saved her from being smashed by the monster’s fist as she leapt away from the attack. The monster roar with great Rage as it freed its fist from the stone wall. It howled with even more anger. It sped forward with even more anger and determination to just destroy the pesky little creature that is the cause of its Anger.
The youngling scurry between the alley, hoping the narrow passage and scattered dumpsters would slow the monster down. But the sound of the monster smashing everything that gets in its way, advanced closer. The monster gave another horrifying roar before it suddenly echoed into silence.
The youngling hid in the corner, in the shadows, hoping the monster passed by. She tried to quiet her heavy breathing. She cursed herself for not following the Man in Rag for her own safety.
Suddenly, heavy hands gripped her by the ankle and she was suddenly dragged along the alley. She screeched in panic and cried out for help. The hulking monster dragged her with forceful speed. It spat drools as it growl with deep irritation. He roared again and with just one hand, lifted her frail body into the air and then swinging her body like a rag doll. The monster slammed the rag doll at the side of the building.
The impact smashed her face against the wall and she was blinded by flashing lights. A moment of soothingness as the wind rippling on her smashed face, until again, it met upon the wall. Her face imploded within. The monster slammed her against the wall with no remorse. It growled and roar with rage and anger. It swung her body by the legs, against the wall repeatedly. Then, it tossed her in the air and grabbed her head with one hand and her legs by the other hand.
She heard one last blood roar before her body was ripped in half by the monster. Her innards and blood splattered atop of the monster’s awaiting mouth, as it drank from the shower of blood. Her top half fell to the ground, as her eyes stared blankly at her bottom half.
The last thought that came through her mind; "Why didn't I go with that Man in Rag?"
End. Excerpt from my novel "Darkness; the Resurrection"
© Copyright 2016 Sammy Wang Yang. All rights reserved.
Short Story / Horror
Poem / Poetry
Poem / True Confessions
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