by Tenebrae

Part 1

 

 

List all authors

List all stories/poetry

Rating system

About the author

Author home

Bloodlines home

I waited, silent and patient, they would come, they always came, and they always brought my food. Faintly I could hear them approaching, the quiet disturbed by their cacophony of chanting, bells and sistrums. The fresh night air befouled with the miasma of their burning incense and unwashed bodies. But beneath their assaults on my environment, I could sense the sweat music of my food's fear, and taste as well as smell the fresh blood welling up on the backs of the flagellants. I knew what would come next, the blinding glare of their torches. I shielded my eyes, and waited. Sure enough, the guttering light suffused the chamber of my abode and they marched and danced in, shrieking and wailing while between them stood my meal, bound on a litter, and dressed in virginal white.

My pulse began to quicken at the smell of the meal, the deliciousness of the sacrifice. The fear was palpable. I inhaled deeply; filtering out the miasma of the smoking censers and savouring the taste of blood in the air, the strong coppery taste of it. I slipped out of the darkness, allowing them to see me. Their fear was an aphrodisiac; I could feel myself becoming aroused by their emotions. Only the closest didn't run from my revealed presence. The old priest, covetous of my meal, glared up at me, but the powers that I gave him assuaged his hatred of me enough that I could maintain my hold on his corrupt soul. We locked eyes for a moment, then the dome of his shaven scalp shone like the sun as he bowed to me.

I laughed, and my laughter rumbled through the temple, and their fear rose to new heights. I drank it in as a splendid wine. I smiled down on my prize, devouring her with my eyes, as I would body and soul do later with my mouth and talons. As more and more of the acolytes cowered behind her and the temple guard, their torches cast a stronger light, silhouetting her body in its thin white shift like robe. I absorbed the curves and swells of her body. My senses drinking in everything about her, her youth, her beauty, her fear, and the scent of her fresh washed body.

"All hail to thee, Lord of Shadows, we, thy children pay homage to thee!" the priest called out in a quavering voice.

"Yes Priessst... what issss it that you want!" I responded.

"Dark Lord, we are troubled, the Molachaka encroach upon our lands, their warriors raid our villages, they carry of our maidens..."

"WHAT!" I interrupted, I had heard of these meddlesome interlopers, and not considered them of importance, but if they were going to disrupt my food supply, that could not be tolerated. "Where are these unholy vermin!" I demanded. "They shall feel the wrath of Umbradeius!" I noted that their faces lit with glee. I shared their enthusiasm. "Go my children, prepare thy arms! I shall feed and at the falling of the night we shall go forth and slay the interlopers, rescue our daughters and confiscate their chattel!"

"All hail our Great and Dread Lord!" the priest screamed in delight. My patience grew thin with my hunger and my ire at the news.

"I said go! Make ready. I shall feast and we shall avenge ourselves upon the interlopers!" My bellow shook the chamber walls. They fled, leaving the girl behind, her eyes wild with fear and terror. Finally she sought to emulate them, but too late. I snagged her hair as she turned and she screamed deliciously as I dragged her back to me. She wept and begged for her life, all of which only filled me with raging desire for every aspect of her. While her hair was tangled in one clawed hand, the other tore her diaphanous robe from her pale flesh. Fear and the cold air gave her flesh goose pimples and her nipples stand up erect. Tears streamed down her face and I drew her near to bathe them from her face with my tongue. She cringed back from its hot rough touch and flinched as my ministrations continued down her taut naked body.

She squirmed in my grasp and I grew angry. I struck her and sent her flying across the altar. She rebounded from the wall and tried to stand and flee. I caught her by the throat this time, and forcing her back upon the stained flat stone top of my dining table. I manacled her to the smooth altar top, and laughed at her tears and whining. Then I resumed my bathing of her. I noticed an abrasion on her hip and was overcome with desire. I fastened my jaws on her ruptured flesh and began to suckle. She screamed as I drew the blood from the wound. The more of it I tasted, the more I desired to devour greater quantities.

Her screams suddenly ended and looking over at her, I noticed that she was looking at me with shock on her face. I looked down and realised that I had bitten her leg clean off, I laughed and lapped up the blood that was gushing and spurting from the massive wound. I gave into the urge and what would normally have been a long and erotic meal turned into bloody carnage. I didn't care, for tomorrow, I would take the prize of the captives and feast upon the flesh of children as well. My laughter echoed into the night from the temple precincts, and I was glad that I once again that I had decided to stay in this desecrated venue.

 

Site design ©2001 by Cindy Rosenthal
Fresh Blood ©2000 by Tenebrae

What is copyright?