Post by chadsloveslave on May 14, 2008 15:44:17 GMT -6
Nothing existed in the dark, cold, lifeless room. There was a man in the room…yet, he was not a man, he was something else. He was the reason why the room was dead and chilled. The dark that filled the room shuddered in fear, surrounding the man around in it’s shadow to hide him from anyone else, to keep their eyes away from the fear he would bring in them. Dr. Dawes entered the room and shivered violently from the coldness.
The dark that spilled over the room did not comfort the doctor. She searched her hand around against the wall, trying to find the light switch. Once her hand came upon it, the ceiling lights turned on, narrowing it’s brightness down the man. The man squinted his eyes, feeling as if his eyes were on fire from the beams of light.
Dr. Dawes felt the breath from her mouth escape from her lungs, her sight went through the man. The man quietly sat in a wheelchair, his hands tied to the armrests, his waist tied around the seat, his feet were tied together. The doctor stood in place, not making any sudden movements. She watched the man as he slowly tilt his head from side to side, his long pitch black hair fell over his face, whispering against his shoulders.
Dr. Dawes’s green eyes concentrated on the man. She focused on every little small detail of him, what she was able to observe of him. Her eyes fell on the ripples of muscles that length down on the man’s stomach, his arms and legs toned. The only clothing the man wore was a pair of grey undergarments, allowing the doctor to see every muscle of his that was well formed.
The doctor remained silently still with her eyes wide, her lips sealed from inhaling the air, slowing breathing through her nostrils. The man in the wheelchair kept titling his head, showing the doctor that he was alive and breathing. With every breath he released the hair that covered his face would flow in the air, matching the movements of his breath, but fell back in place when it was gone. The man felt weakened, not able to break through the capture he was in. He knew he was a prisoner, an experiment that seemed fascinating to the doctors that kidnapped him from the life he already hated. He did not like the feeling he was an experiment, he wanted to be free.
“Dr. Dawes,” he whispered.
She jumped. This was the first time the being had addressed her by name.
“Let me out of here.” Each word was a struggle, each breath was difficult. “You…do not understand.”
“I don’t have the authority.” She tried to keep her voice even and calm. “You’d have to speak to the head scientist about that.” She turned to go…
“You speak as if you’re not afraid of me. But I can tell. I can hear your heartbeat…hear the blood pulsing through your veins. You’re afraid of me.” At the word “blood”, his teeth gleamed whiter.
“I…” she swallowed. “…I’m not afraid.”
The man tossed his long pitch black hair from his face, showing his deep rich cool blue eyes to the doctor. He smiled, the point of his canine teeth shined brightly, begging for the flesh of the doctor. Dr. Dawes heard the man’s heavy breathing. His chest moving rapidly from the hunger his stomach possessed for the taste of blood. She wanted to leave the room, but her greens eyes shared visions with the man’s deep blue eyes. She felt as if she was mesmerized by the rich color of the ocean that brushed against his pupils.
The man narrowed his eyebrows, showing anger and temptation through his face. The smile still tingled on his lips as he spoke, cravingly. “Yes, you are!”
Dr. Dawes gasped, revealing her fear towards him. She walked backwards hitting her back against the wall. The man was tied down in the wheelchair, but his ferocity still brought anxiety inside of her. The man looked deeply at the doctor, desiring for her blood. With each heartbeat he heard, the image of her beautiful figure flashed into a dark outline of her body, showing her skeleton as her heart emit a light, representing the life she owned.
The man’s smile grew wider, exhibiting all of his teeth, including the long length of his canine’s. Dr. Dawes’s body was stuck to the wall, the cold of the concrete shivering up her spine. The man’s eyes stayed on the doctor, his smile inviting more fear in her. The sight of her beauty made his thirst grew more impulsive. Her blond lashes curved to the tip of her eyelids, her long golden hair fell to her back, her heart-shaped face flew beautifully with the curves that outlined her figure.
He began to thrust and shift his body against the wheelchair. The buckles on the straps tightened around his wrists, struggling to be free. His eyes remained on her and screamed in anger. “Get me out!”
Dr. Dawes jumped as she heard the door open, the head scientist entering inside the cold, lifeless room. She place her sight on Dr. Collins with agitation, looking at the glare he was giving her and asked. “Dr. Dawes what the hell are you doing in here? Are you here to examine the test subject?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Are you here to interview the test subject?”
She shook her head again. “No.”
Dr. Collins deepen his glare and stretched out his arm, pointing his index towards the open door and spoke in a harsh tone. “Then get the fuck out!”
The man set his eyes on Dr. Dawes and saw the humiliation written on her face. She glanced her eyes back and forth on the man and Dr. Collins. She remained silent as she released herself from the wall and walked through the open door and closed it during her way out. Dr. Collins began to proceed the blood test, wanting a sample from the man. He walked towards the wheelchair, having an syringe in his gloved hands.
The man leaned his back against the wheelchair as far as he could, his eyes widen looking at the needle. He grew tired and weak from the blood transfusions the scientists would take from him. It had been almost a month of the scientists testing him, taking blood from him, wondering what he really was.
Dr. Collins stepped closer towards the wheelchair, tapping his finger on the syringe with a smile and spoke. “I knew one day you would be afraid of me.”
The waves of the ocean deep inside the man’s eyes tossed and turned with frustration. “Si vous ne me liberez pas vous irez a l’enfer!”
“Is that French your speaking? I think it is…you never told me that you could speak French. You’re more smarter than I thought.” the doctor spoke, mockingly.
The words and tone Dr. Collins was using to speak were only angering the man. He spread his lips wide across his face and showed his gleamed teeth to the doctor. “I’m going to kill you if you penetrate that needle into my skin.”
The doctor was astonished at his words, never hearing him speak in fluent sentences before. The calm in his voice, how soft and careless it was brought a sudden fear inside of him, but portrayed bravery towards him. Dr. Collins took a deep breath and stretched his arm towards the man. He leaned his back coming more closer towards the wheelchair and pierced the hollow needle in the man’s forearm.
The man watched how the needle penetrated deep in his skin, his blood running through the hollow needle of the syringe. He watched how his blood was being withdrawn from his body and into the small tube as the piston rose to the top. He expressed a face full of pain, feeling another part of his life being taken away. He knew he would not live long if the scientists kept taking his blood. Throughout the month he has been their test was tiring for him. The man was given no chance to feed, no chance to taste the sweet flavor of red fluid.
Dr. Collins pulled the hollow needle from the man’s forearm and stared at the blood in the small tube. He glanced at the man and spoke in a murmur. “I hope the next test will come successfully on telling me who you are.”
The man titled his head, his black hair flowing over his face. Breathing heavily from the syringe taking his blood away, he could no longer have his blood drawn from him. His rich deep blue eyes stared at the scientist, looking at how old and grey he was. He exhaled a large breath and forced a smile on his face. “You will never know who I am!”
Dr. Collins scoffed at his words. “Well…I hope that is not true. I will find out what you really are…that is…if you really are anything.”
The man growled deep in his throat, the color of his eyes darken into a navy blue. His canine teeth were long to the point, showing them off. He wanted the doctor to know how hungry he was and that he wanted the taste of his blood. He leaned his upper half as far as he could towards the side of the wheelchair the doctor was on. Dr. Collins believed he could not harm him. He knew the man was weak and believed the straps that tied him to the wheelchair were stronger than him.
The man found Dr. Collins arm gently swinging back and forth towards him, mesmerized by his heartbeat. The doctor did not pay attention to the man, his eyes on the syringe looking at the blood. Thinking to himself. What if this man is really what we think he is? Why can’t I know! I have done thousands of blood tests on him and the results show me nothing about him! It’s as if his blood does not exist! The computer always gives me a result I do not want, giving me different people that do not match his identity. Why? What does this mean?
The man felt the buckles tighten around his arms and waist, stretching himself further towards his arm. He wanted the doctor’s arm, he wanted his blood. Once his arm swung towards him at the perfect moment…he took action. The man pierced his canine teeth into the scientists wrist, gripping his teeth tightly onto his skin. Dr. Collins became stunned, his mind froze from his thoughts feeling a pain he had never felt before. The syringe fell from his hands and on the concrete floor. The glass tube broke into tiny pieces, spilling the blood from the syringe onto the floor.
The man felt a sudden relief, a feeling of calm and satisfaction as he continued to drink the doctor’s blood. Dr. Collins exhaled sharply as he looked down at his wrist, watching the blood flow from his skin. His grey eyes widen, his mouth opened, he fell to his knees feeling his life being taken from him. The drop shook the man’s grasp that he held with his teeth.
Dr. Collins did not scream, he did not make any kind of sound. The panic and fear he felt created a rapid movement on his heart. The elder age he was in was taking a larger effect on him more different than a younger victim. The man kept feeding from his wrist, his hunger was still not satisfied to point of being completely well to his full strength. The doctor’s skin turned pale, he began to gasp for air, his blood dripping, sprinkling on the concrete floor. The pile of blood kept growing larger and larger as it spread across the floor. Its circle form turned into a oval as it then began to turn into a rectangular shape, sinking underneath the doctor’s pants and shoes and it then began to travel towards the door.
The man grew a smile as his lips stayed connect to the scientist’s wrist. He felt his strength increasing, his hunger was slowly dying. He sunk his teeth deeper through the skin, causing the doctor to softly gasp in pain. He kept drinking his blood, he desired to kill him and knew he was going to achieve.
Dr. Collins’s life flashed through his mind, thinking every moment he could remember about his life. There were moments in his life that he was not too proud of and wish to take back. He remembered his time with his family and his marriage and the death of his wife and his children. He remembered all the things he succeeded in and took pride in. The thought of it all disappearing, the thought of it all going away was not situating with him too well. The doctor did not want to die. The feeling of his life slowly fading started to anger him more than fear him.
Dr. Collin’s used all the strength he still owned and tried his best to pull himself away from the man. The man’s teeth were closed in tightly to the doctor’s skin that his attempt for freedom was not achieved. His skin turned into the color of white, his purple and red veins showed through his skin. The doctor kept gasping for life, watching the man pierce his teeth deep into his wrist.
The man felt his strength coming back, loving the sensation of the taste of blood. He missed the feeling of taking a life, killing a mortal. He released his canine teeth from the doctor’s wrist and pulled away from the body as it dropped onto the floor. He had enough of his blood, he could not drink further more since he had died. The man leaned his body against the wheelchair and placed his eyes down onto the floor.
The man’s lips tingled into a sinister smile. Dr. Collin’s body lay lifeless on the concrete floor, his body fell on the blood that ruled over the floor. His bloodshot eyes wide open, his mouth open but no breath escaped from his lips. Dr. Collin’s was dying…slowly dying. The man leaned his body close to the doctor with all of his strength, feeling the buckles getting tighter around his arms and waist. He licked his lips and bit down his teeth on the flesh folds of his mouth.
The man tasted the iron in the blood that was spilling from his lips. He titled his head towards where the scientist lay his head. The blood from his lips dripped into the opened mouth the doctor’s. A few drops of blood fell into his mouth as it sprinkled onto his tongue, trailing down inside his throat. The man’s smile kept still on his lips as he watched the doctor began to breathe again.
The man whispered to the doctor. “I gave you a life you will hate…the life that I have. You will live with this hate and wish you could die, but can not. I told you, you would regret taking my blood…for I have done the worst thing that could happen to any mortal.”
The End
This was a short story, but I'm thinking about another story to make that's original. I hope you enjoyed this story and liked it.
Take care.
The dark that spilled over the room did not comfort the doctor. She searched her hand around against the wall, trying to find the light switch. Once her hand came upon it, the ceiling lights turned on, narrowing it’s brightness down the man. The man squinted his eyes, feeling as if his eyes were on fire from the beams of light.
Dr. Dawes felt the breath from her mouth escape from her lungs, her sight went through the man. The man quietly sat in a wheelchair, his hands tied to the armrests, his waist tied around the seat, his feet were tied together. The doctor stood in place, not making any sudden movements. She watched the man as he slowly tilt his head from side to side, his long pitch black hair fell over his face, whispering against his shoulders.
Dr. Dawes’s green eyes concentrated on the man. She focused on every little small detail of him, what she was able to observe of him. Her eyes fell on the ripples of muscles that length down on the man’s stomach, his arms and legs toned. The only clothing the man wore was a pair of grey undergarments, allowing the doctor to see every muscle of his that was well formed.
The doctor remained silently still with her eyes wide, her lips sealed from inhaling the air, slowing breathing through her nostrils. The man in the wheelchair kept titling his head, showing the doctor that he was alive and breathing. With every breath he released the hair that covered his face would flow in the air, matching the movements of his breath, but fell back in place when it was gone. The man felt weakened, not able to break through the capture he was in. He knew he was a prisoner, an experiment that seemed fascinating to the doctors that kidnapped him from the life he already hated. He did not like the feeling he was an experiment, he wanted to be free.
“Dr. Dawes,” he whispered.
She jumped. This was the first time the being had addressed her by name.
“Let me out of here.” Each word was a struggle, each breath was difficult. “You…do not understand.”
“I don’t have the authority.” She tried to keep her voice even and calm. “You’d have to speak to the head scientist about that.” She turned to go…
“You speak as if you’re not afraid of me. But I can tell. I can hear your heartbeat…hear the blood pulsing through your veins. You’re afraid of me.” At the word “blood”, his teeth gleamed whiter.
“I…” she swallowed. “…I’m not afraid.”
The man tossed his long pitch black hair from his face, showing his deep rich cool blue eyes to the doctor. He smiled, the point of his canine teeth shined brightly, begging for the flesh of the doctor. Dr. Dawes heard the man’s heavy breathing. His chest moving rapidly from the hunger his stomach possessed for the taste of blood. She wanted to leave the room, but her greens eyes shared visions with the man’s deep blue eyes. She felt as if she was mesmerized by the rich color of the ocean that brushed against his pupils.
The man narrowed his eyebrows, showing anger and temptation through his face. The smile still tingled on his lips as he spoke, cravingly. “Yes, you are!”
Dr. Dawes gasped, revealing her fear towards him. She walked backwards hitting her back against the wall. The man was tied down in the wheelchair, but his ferocity still brought anxiety inside of her. The man looked deeply at the doctor, desiring for her blood. With each heartbeat he heard, the image of her beautiful figure flashed into a dark outline of her body, showing her skeleton as her heart emit a light, representing the life she owned.
The man’s smile grew wider, exhibiting all of his teeth, including the long length of his canine’s. Dr. Dawes’s body was stuck to the wall, the cold of the concrete shivering up her spine. The man’s eyes stayed on the doctor, his smile inviting more fear in her. The sight of her beauty made his thirst grew more impulsive. Her blond lashes curved to the tip of her eyelids, her long golden hair fell to her back, her heart-shaped face flew beautifully with the curves that outlined her figure.
He began to thrust and shift his body against the wheelchair. The buckles on the straps tightened around his wrists, struggling to be free. His eyes remained on her and screamed in anger. “Get me out!”
Dr. Dawes jumped as she heard the door open, the head scientist entering inside the cold, lifeless room. She place her sight on Dr. Collins with agitation, looking at the glare he was giving her and asked. “Dr. Dawes what the hell are you doing in here? Are you here to examine the test subject?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Are you here to interview the test subject?”
She shook her head again. “No.”
Dr. Collins deepen his glare and stretched out his arm, pointing his index towards the open door and spoke in a harsh tone. “Then get the fuck out!”
The man set his eyes on Dr. Dawes and saw the humiliation written on her face. She glanced her eyes back and forth on the man and Dr. Collins. She remained silent as she released herself from the wall and walked through the open door and closed it during her way out. Dr. Collins began to proceed the blood test, wanting a sample from the man. He walked towards the wheelchair, having an syringe in his gloved hands.
The man leaned his back against the wheelchair as far as he could, his eyes widen looking at the needle. He grew tired and weak from the blood transfusions the scientists would take from him. It had been almost a month of the scientists testing him, taking blood from him, wondering what he really was.
Dr. Collins stepped closer towards the wheelchair, tapping his finger on the syringe with a smile and spoke. “I knew one day you would be afraid of me.”
The waves of the ocean deep inside the man’s eyes tossed and turned with frustration. “Si vous ne me liberez pas vous irez a l’enfer!”
“Is that French your speaking? I think it is…you never told me that you could speak French. You’re more smarter than I thought.” the doctor spoke, mockingly.
The words and tone Dr. Collins was using to speak were only angering the man. He spread his lips wide across his face and showed his gleamed teeth to the doctor. “I’m going to kill you if you penetrate that needle into my skin.”
The doctor was astonished at his words, never hearing him speak in fluent sentences before. The calm in his voice, how soft and careless it was brought a sudden fear inside of him, but portrayed bravery towards him. Dr. Collins took a deep breath and stretched his arm towards the man. He leaned his back coming more closer towards the wheelchair and pierced the hollow needle in the man’s forearm.
The man watched how the needle penetrated deep in his skin, his blood running through the hollow needle of the syringe. He watched how his blood was being withdrawn from his body and into the small tube as the piston rose to the top. He expressed a face full of pain, feeling another part of his life being taken away. He knew he would not live long if the scientists kept taking his blood. Throughout the month he has been their test was tiring for him. The man was given no chance to feed, no chance to taste the sweet flavor of red fluid.
Dr. Collins pulled the hollow needle from the man’s forearm and stared at the blood in the small tube. He glanced at the man and spoke in a murmur. “I hope the next test will come successfully on telling me who you are.”
The man titled his head, his black hair flowing over his face. Breathing heavily from the syringe taking his blood away, he could no longer have his blood drawn from him. His rich deep blue eyes stared at the scientist, looking at how old and grey he was. He exhaled a large breath and forced a smile on his face. “You will never know who I am!”
Dr. Collins scoffed at his words. “Well…I hope that is not true. I will find out what you really are…that is…if you really are anything.”
The man growled deep in his throat, the color of his eyes darken into a navy blue. His canine teeth were long to the point, showing them off. He wanted the doctor to know how hungry he was and that he wanted the taste of his blood. He leaned his upper half as far as he could towards the side of the wheelchair the doctor was on. Dr. Collins believed he could not harm him. He knew the man was weak and believed the straps that tied him to the wheelchair were stronger than him.
The man found Dr. Collins arm gently swinging back and forth towards him, mesmerized by his heartbeat. The doctor did not pay attention to the man, his eyes on the syringe looking at the blood. Thinking to himself. What if this man is really what we think he is? Why can’t I know! I have done thousands of blood tests on him and the results show me nothing about him! It’s as if his blood does not exist! The computer always gives me a result I do not want, giving me different people that do not match his identity. Why? What does this mean?
The man felt the buckles tighten around his arms and waist, stretching himself further towards his arm. He wanted the doctor’s arm, he wanted his blood. Once his arm swung towards him at the perfect moment…he took action. The man pierced his canine teeth into the scientists wrist, gripping his teeth tightly onto his skin. Dr. Collins became stunned, his mind froze from his thoughts feeling a pain he had never felt before. The syringe fell from his hands and on the concrete floor. The glass tube broke into tiny pieces, spilling the blood from the syringe onto the floor.
The man felt a sudden relief, a feeling of calm and satisfaction as he continued to drink the doctor’s blood. Dr. Collins exhaled sharply as he looked down at his wrist, watching the blood flow from his skin. His grey eyes widen, his mouth opened, he fell to his knees feeling his life being taken from him. The drop shook the man’s grasp that he held with his teeth.
Dr. Collins did not scream, he did not make any kind of sound. The panic and fear he felt created a rapid movement on his heart. The elder age he was in was taking a larger effect on him more different than a younger victim. The man kept feeding from his wrist, his hunger was still not satisfied to point of being completely well to his full strength. The doctor’s skin turned pale, he began to gasp for air, his blood dripping, sprinkling on the concrete floor. The pile of blood kept growing larger and larger as it spread across the floor. Its circle form turned into a oval as it then began to turn into a rectangular shape, sinking underneath the doctor’s pants and shoes and it then began to travel towards the door.
The man grew a smile as his lips stayed connect to the scientist’s wrist. He felt his strength increasing, his hunger was slowly dying. He sunk his teeth deeper through the skin, causing the doctor to softly gasp in pain. He kept drinking his blood, he desired to kill him and knew he was going to achieve.
Dr. Collins’s life flashed through his mind, thinking every moment he could remember about his life. There were moments in his life that he was not too proud of and wish to take back. He remembered his time with his family and his marriage and the death of his wife and his children. He remembered all the things he succeeded in and took pride in. The thought of it all disappearing, the thought of it all going away was not situating with him too well. The doctor did not want to die. The feeling of his life slowly fading started to anger him more than fear him.
Dr. Collin’s used all the strength he still owned and tried his best to pull himself away from the man. The man’s teeth were closed in tightly to the doctor’s skin that his attempt for freedom was not achieved. His skin turned into the color of white, his purple and red veins showed through his skin. The doctor kept gasping for life, watching the man pierce his teeth deep into his wrist.
The man felt his strength coming back, loving the sensation of the taste of blood. He missed the feeling of taking a life, killing a mortal. He released his canine teeth from the doctor’s wrist and pulled away from the body as it dropped onto the floor. He had enough of his blood, he could not drink further more since he had died. The man leaned his body against the wheelchair and placed his eyes down onto the floor.
The man’s lips tingled into a sinister smile. Dr. Collin’s body lay lifeless on the concrete floor, his body fell on the blood that ruled over the floor. His bloodshot eyes wide open, his mouth open but no breath escaped from his lips. Dr. Collin’s was dying…slowly dying. The man leaned his body close to the doctor with all of his strength, feeling the buckles getting tighter around his arms and waist. He licked his lips and bit down his teeth on the flesh folds of his mouth.
The man tasted the iron in the blood that was spilling from his lips. He titled his head towards where the scientist lay his head. The blood from his lips dripped into the opened mouth the doctor’s. A few drops of blood fell into his mouth as it sprinkled onto his tongue, trailing down inside his throat. The man’s smile kept still on his lips as he watched the doctor began to breathe again.
The man whispered to the doctor. “I gave you a life you will hate…the life that I have. You will live with this hate and wish you could die, but can not. I told you, you would regret taking my blood…for I have done the worst thing that could happen to any mortal.”
The End
This was a short story, but I'm thinking about another story to make that's original. I hope you enjoyed this story and liked it.
Take care.
