Well heres something else I wrote, hope ppl comment on this one...  

rm_TezriansKill 29F
17 posts
6/2/2006 10:31 am
Well heres something else I wrote, hope ppl comment on this one...

The moon was growing full again. Its cycle never faltering once as time went on, as life went on. The stillness of that night would have made some nervous, antsy even, but not me. I reveled in it, wishing it would never end, that moment where everything was perfectly still, flawlessly quiet.
Upon the rooftop I lay in wait. The shadows wrapping around me like some living clothing, moving with the moons glow and the artificial lights from below. My quarry I had been stalking the entire day, such an easy hit. I began to caress my knife, running my fingers along its long blade, so deadly, so sharp. I can nearly feel the flesh parting beneath it, stealing the lives of so many.
I can feel the rush of fire in my veins. My desire… no need, for the kill nearly overrides everything else. What can I say, this craving inside me, this yearning has been with me for as long as I can remember. Even before my accident I was considered a great hunter, ruthless, even sadistic. After it, I became a killing machine; no hit was too great, no quarry too elusive, I always made the kill, always, and to think, I’m only 20.
Now as I stay here, hungering for blood and thicker things, I must wait… and wait till I see him. An hour I have been sitting up here with nothing but my knives for company. Not even the birds will come near for fear of their lives, smart birds.
There are two in this world who can calm my lusts, well one to quiet, one to sate. I can feel my lips curl into a feral smile at the thought of them. Everyone else was just meat to me, just walking carcasses waiting to be butchered.
I know my eyes are glowing softly in the light, fueled by some inner fire, a brown blaze just waiting to turn green with the craving. My fingers begin to curl in my braid, that long rope of silky hair kept confined. In the darkness I can still see the reddish highlights and the blond intertwined into an auburn mass. The only problem I see with my hair is that it isn’t straight, out of the braid it’s a curly beast and it annoys the hell out of me. Now, back to my quarry…
My eyes dart to the street, there is movement among the still buildings, those grimy giants that are in need of rebuilding. There he is I can feel my heartbeat grow as I see him from my perch high above. Slowly I begin to descend to the streets; no noise alerts him to my presence, quiet as a cat they say, they have no idea how close to the truth that is.
Into the shadow of the old building I melt into, not even my eyes can be seen in that darkness, consuming me like a starving man. My prey is so close I can smell him, that heady smell of blood flowing just beneath skin, he has no clue as to what’s about to happen, how much his life is going to change.
To my luck, he turns down into the penumbra of an unused alleyway. I dart out to the other side of the street and wait a moment before slipping into those shadows. He’s looking around as if he knew he had gone down the wrong way, but doesn’t want to turn around for fear of what lurk from behind.
I nearly chuckle, his fear thick in the air. He was shaking in his skin, that thin skin that held so much blood, that rich crimson liquid the flowed beneath. I could almost taste it, that coppery liquid as I lick my lips, that sweet fluid, I wanted to lap at and roll around in. I wanted to cover myself in a sheen of his blood, soaking in it till there was not a spot untouched by it.
Stalking from the shadows I came up behind him, in my right hand my knife, lay in wait, ready to strike. I made no noise as I stepped in tune with him, and quickly reached my left hand out to tap him on the shoulder.
I saw the hairs rise up on the back of his neck with the first tap, the second I heard his hear beat faster, and with the third I smelt the stink of fear so thick I was drowning in it. As he turned around he looked me up and down as if sizing me up, he must have underestimated me, for he relaxed visibly. I knew I didn’t look non threatening, black skin tight tank top hugged my every curve, while my pants were just a little bit looser, but they didn’t leave much to the imagination, and were also obsidian with burgundy designs running down from the pockets.
“Can I play with your intestines?” The question came out even toned, not the least bit odd sounding if the words had been switched. I watched the fear fill his eyes as I slid the knife into him, right into a lung, then slicing across to the other, now he couldn’t scream.
Now, I had my play toy, my living play toy. I didn’t have much time while he was still alive, so I brought the knife back out and slit downwards. You would think that the viscera would pop out, sort of like a water balloon being slit, but it doesn’t. The intestines slide out slowly, sometimes caught on the broken flesh, but always managing to fall out.
Instead of watching the slow decent of the organs I reached my left hand in and caressed along them till I took a hold of a string of the large intestines and pulled them out. I watched his mouth open in a silent scream, but nothing came out, his lungs were too far gone to make even the slightest of noises.
I began to run my fingers through the mass of intestines, playing with them, just like I had asked to do. I pushed him back, surprised he even had the guts to still stand, into the wall, it supporting him while I went to my knees. Blood dripped down onto me, beginning to coat me; I wanted to roll in it so badly.
I take my right hand and begin to shove it up into his body cavity, cutting through diaphragm and into his rib cage. Through the dying lungs I can feel the heart, still beating, frantically. The fear is still there, but the knowledge of death was also in his scent.
I finally reached what I had been searching for; right at my finger tips was the organ that kept him going. With each beat of the massive muscle it thrummed through my fingers as I closed around it, caressing it, stroking along it, feeling its immense beats. My hand began to convulse around it, digging in. I wanted to feel it burst in my hand, spill the dark life blood I knew was in there down my arm.
My long nails begin to dig in, still beating, frantically trying to thump around the vice my fingers have made around it. I begin to squeeze, crushing it in my hand. I can feel the first rips begin to form in it, the pressure growing too much even for such a strong muscle. Then I tighten even more, the rip widening impossibly large, and the heart not being able to take anymore.
The body, no longer with a heart to pump the blood, nor air to keep the blood enriched begins to fall over. One arm keeps it up enough as I lean my face closer to the slit I had made. Along the edges my tongue darts out, tasting the coppery liquid, still so warm, so incredibly hot from the inside.
My face begins to be covered in crimson as the blood continues to flow, as I continued to drink from the cooling fountain. I bury my face in farther, licking along the outside of organs, those that had not fallen with the intestines.
As I begin to have my fill I stand up, allowing to body to slump downwards. I look over it as I begin to lap at the blood on my hands, cleaning it from them and then my face. Catlike I clean my face, the scent of blood so thick in the air; it’s as if I’m breathing in the blood itself.
I can feel a purr welling up deep inside me and I do not fight it. I let it loose, my chest rumbling with it as I begin to stalk back to the shadows, my eyes glowing green. I lap at the remaining blood on my hand and grin, that twisted little grin that sends shivers up others spines and think of what an addiction I have. Laughter bubbles from me as I disappear into the night, awaiting my next victim to sate my unwholesome addiction.



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