Prey: Part One

Prey

Part 1

I got out of the car with a big smile on my face. The bright yellow sunlight made everything sparkle: the windows, the roof and even the leaves of the trees of my beautiful new house. Several children were nearby, laughing happily, I smiled once more.

The men who carried all the boxes inside looked at me sideways, I sat on the lovely porch pretending not to notice the way their eyes were on me when they thought I didn’t notice, and that was despite the big hat that covered most of my face.

“She’s beautiful,” one murmured.

“And still unmarried, it seems rude,” his companion replied, giving me a rather audacious look.

I looked at myself surreptitiously, the light blue dress was slightly loose, my shoes were not high because I am 6-foot tall. I sighed, it wasn't the first time I had to deal with comments like those, and apparently, it would not be the last.

Once they left I changed my outfit to something more comfortable, an overall spotted with beige paint and low shoes. I had painted the house myself a couple of nights before; the solvent tang was still an assault to my senses. I organized almost the whole house by the end of the afternoon. It was a beautiful bungalow with a white fence, the American dream, well except for the husband that I would most likely never have and the children I could not birth.

After a long shower I put on a nice yellow dress with a bow on my back; my hair fell to my waist, tied in a fluttering ponytail. Deciding that staying indoors with such beautiful weather was sinful, I went to the porch and sat on the swing to enjoy the sunset and its rich colors and aromas.

After a few minutes a couple came up my way, I leaned my head to a side with a smile. The man in his forties with black hair and cold blue eyes looked at me too, his wife in her late thirties, blonde and beautiful stared at the house.

“Good evening,” said the man. “My name is William, this is my wife Madeleine, and you are?”

“Jane Glass,” I said.

“Welcome to the community,” he said, reaching for my hand.

I got up and took his hand suppressing a wince.

“Thank you,” I said.

Madeleine handed me a provocative blackberry pie, my mouth watered, I inhaled deeply.

“Oh, it smells delicious,” I complimented her. She smiled, it did not reach her eyes.

“Thank you,” she said in a shy voice.

“It tastes even better, my dear wife is an excellent cook,” he said, putting his arm around her thin shoulders on a possessive gesture, she shook a little.

The man looked at me from head to toe, made a half disapproving gesture to see my casual hairstyle, lack of makeup and comfortable shoes. I could tell he wasn't particularly happy to have to crane his neck to look at my eyes. 

“It's a big house for a single woman,” he said, his cold eyes scanning my face. Caveman, I almost said.

“I have many books,” I replied with a smile as cold as his expression. “You can borrow as many as you want,” I said to Madeleine. Her eyes widened with both fear and longing.

“I'm sure a beautiful woman like you will soon find a husband,” he said ignoring my offer to her. His pathetic flattering making me nauseated. 

Madeleine lowered her shoulders but remained silent. She seemed to have given up on arguing with him.

“I think I prefer a Golden Retriever,” I said with a snort. William’s expression changed for an instant, something dark and twisted in his eyes. Madeleine looked at me frightened, a warning in her expression. Quickly, he controlled himself again.

“Well, let's hope you fit in well in the neighborhood,” he said, retrieving his false smile. 

“Later,” I said, taking a step toward the door. “Thanks for the pie, Madeleine”.

“You are welcome,” she said in the same submissive voice.

Once they left, I entered my house. 1972 and there are still idiots who believe women are just cleaning machines and child breeders. I breathed deeply suffocating my anger.

I put on my pajamas and went to bed a few hours later, but could not fall asleep. I got up to get something to drink not bothering to turn on the lights. The humming of my new refrigerator welcomed me as I took a glass and filled it with almost freezing water. Leaning on the counter I drank big gulps, the thirst burning my empty stomach barely receded.

Someone grabbed my neck roughly and put a cloth over my face, the glass shattered on the floor near my feet. I felt the horrible smell that burned my nose, my stomach twisted. I half shouted and struggled without much strength, fading away in a matter of seconds.

****

Read Part 2 here: https://selenekallanfantasywriter.blogspot.com/2017/05/prey-part-two.html

Hunting Party

HUNTING PARTY

A rush of wind filled my nostrils with the scent of liquor and sewage, clenching my teeth I repressed a gag. I stopped for a moment while considering going to a better part of town. Don't be a prude, I reprimanded myself, forcing my feet to keep moving.

The ambiance was clouded with the sound of drunk and klutzy laughs from the men, and women in the nearby illegal taverns. It was definitely no place for a woman to wander alone. I could feel the danger creeping under my skin, there shouldn't have been a respectable man in at least a mile round, not that I was looking forward to finding one. No, the evil would have to do.

I wandered with no rush the filthy stone streets, my steps echoing on the emptier parts of that wretched place. The only people around me —women selling their bodies, their clients, and the homeless—, didn’t even notice me at all. My empty stomach twisted, starved to its limit. I couldn’t help a weak pant when the pounding in my head grew stronger. I kept moving struggling to ignore the sensation of illness. 

A stream of the cold autumn wind stroke me, lifting my long black coat and ruffling my loose hair; a slight scent of blood drew my attention. I expanded my senses around me, exploring; a suffocated moan reached my ears, completely different to the sounds of fake pleasure coming from the alleys. It was a sound of fear, of frustration. I used it as a guide.

It didn’t take me long to find the alley in which the terrible scene took place: a young woman with a broken nose covered in blood and tears, and a man — not that I thought he was one —, forcing his way under the girl’s dress. With no hesitation, I threw a punch right to his face, he fell to the ground immediately. 
She cried without sound paralyzed by fear. Her scent and garb indicated me she worked as a bartender, something completely inappropriate; she looked so young, probably 15 years old. Her hair was a complete mess, she was a complete mess. I got closer to her.

“Hey, look at me,” I ordered. 
Her brown eyes focused on mine at once, pleading; tears falling down her chin. She was so small. She tried to talk but couldn’t.

“Go home, forget everything that happened tonight.”

Her eyes lost focus with the force of my hypnosis. It worked perfectly, she started walking away stumbling slightly, but disappearing from my sight.

“Argh,” growled the bastard struggling to stand up. I waited for him to face me.

He looked at me, his brow furrowing with confusion. Unaware that it was me the one who’d hit him. His brown eyes wandered my frame; from my long brown hair, through my blouse and pants, and finally to my leather boots. A mix of lust and confusion filled his expression, slowly — so he could now see me— , I hit him, open hand on his chest. He flew several feet away from me landing on his ass; seething with anger, he fought to stand up again, I waited.

I wanted him to fight and see how useless it was. I wanted his fear when he realized his life was over.

“You bitch!” He shouted throwing his fist at my face. 
I grabbed his hand too fast for him to see and shattered his bones, he howled in pain. His white skin turned pale, the stinking sweat made his hair stick to his forehead.

He threw another punch with the good hand, I dodged him and kicked him away sending him to the end of the alley. His scent was a mix of cheap liquor, silk, sweat, and lavender; a wealthy man that enjoyed hurting defenseless women, one of my favorite preys. 
My fangs descended at once; it was slightly painful, but I barely felt it thanks to the hunger, and burning rage. My empty stomach clenched, a shiver of anticipation running down my spine. One week was quite a stretch for my feeble self-control.

“Get up,” I growled getting close to him. My voice sounded completely inhuman, similar to a feline roar. 

“You don’t like fair fights, do you?”

Actually, it wasn’t fair at all. I was at least a dozen times stronger than him, could be much more if the hunger hadn’t weakened me already. He was barely able to stand up, gasping for air and crawling like the insect he was. Finally, he lifted his eyes and saw me, we were near a streetlight so he could see my cat-like silver eyes, and long fangs. I smiled wickedly at the pure horror on his face, the scent of his fear tainted the air with a repulsive scent.

“You are a monster,” he murmured.

“Funny, that was my line,” I replied.

He tried to run, in the blink of an eye, I stood in front of him. I pushed him to the furthest wall back on the alley drawing us away from the possibility of being seen, then lifted him with one hand to face me. He was a couple inches lower than me, I was tall for a female. His heart raced under my touch as cold as night. 

“Please,” he begged, “God!”

I laughed while I got closer to his neck, my mouth watered with the scent of his blood.

“I think he listened to the girl’s prayer tonight,” I murmured in his ear.

I bit his neck cutting through the damp skin like a knife on butter. The warm, bittersweet blood flooded my mouth, I could taste the alcohol and evil in it. He fought uselessly under my hands, hitting me with all the strength he could muster, but I barely even felt it. I was covering his mouth with one hand to silence his choked screams.

His heart lost the battle to my unleashed hunger that knew no bounds that night. His death came faster than I wanted, I tossed his dry and useless body to the ground, and cleaned the corners of my mouth with a handkerchief, disgusted. Not even the slightest trace of regret clouded my mind. Yes, I was a murderer, but I only took the lives of the vile, of creatures far worse than me.

I  took out the bottle of bourbon of my coat and drank a bit to cleanse the taste of his corrupted blood. Then, covered the body with the rest of the liquor, and took a few steps back before tossing a lighter. The flames would cover the traces of what I had done in a short time, cleaning after myself was something I would always do.

I walked away slowly from the scene of fire and death I had created. One more dead pervert and an eternity to take down as many of them as I could.

An Introduction

Non-humans. Thousands of myths speak of them. Deified, envied, and most of all feared. Once a grounded fact, know a demonstration of ignorance or insanity from the few humans who claim to have met one. A prey for a select few, and by far not a human invention.

Non-humans exist, they are as real as the air we breath. Their existence remains a secret to most of the human kind since the dark ages, when being remotely different became dangerous and decens of species were brutally slaughtered.

They live amongst us today, hiding in plain sight, some feared, some afraid, some with the urge to rule over the humans, some desiring to be more humane... And all hoping to remain a myth, for if they live only in our imagination, they are safe… For now.

Fist Post

Hello everyone my name is Selene, ¡Welcome to my blog! I am a passionate reader and a writer too. I will be posting about all sort of things: the music I like, my favorite books, my own writings. I hope you all enjoy being here.