by Paige Medlock
This story contains mentions of suicide.
The craving for memories and emotions burned my throat with desperation in an almost insanity-like frenzy. In the darkness, I paced and contemplated taking the life of a man who wanted nothing more than to take his own. I questioned myself deeply, wondering if it would be a mercy killing or if the bite from me, a creature of the night, would be cruel. The visions and memories of normal blood would be more sustainable, but a sense of pity overtook me.
The man paced on the bridge only yards away, his anxiety wafted the scent of burnt lemons toward me. The taste of an anxious victim usually had a hint of sourness, but even the smell was overwhelming. The appeal to my once human emotions begged me to aid this man in a more peaceful death. I fought with my emotions and wondered if I had become soft and privy to humans.
I crept into view and paused for a few moments to see if his pupils would dilate or at least give some sign or recognition that he was aware of my presence. Instead, he looked down below at the murky water and began to haul his body over the railing. I leapt into action and swept in to latch onto his neck. His blood was repulsive, the sourness mixed with an emotion I had not tasted before. I closed my eyes as some of his memories flooded my vision.
A blonde woman with teary red eyes was on his mind and then he focused on children’s faces who looked unusually sickly pale like me. He didn’t thrash against me, and his blood grew to an unfathomable intense sour and acidic mixture. His blood was beyond anything I had tasted, and the thought of quitting crossed my mind. I didn’t allow myself to. I found it, funnily enough, repulsive to leave the dying to suffer in the dark alone until death.
***
I thought of the man on the bridge for many years and I grew to understand why he haunted me with his sour blood. He had not struggled, cried, or begged for mercy. Relief. He had felt sickly sweet relief.
A sort of inspiration had taken over me after coming to my conclusions. I sought to find another man or woman in the same desperation of the man on the bridge. I wanted to redeem myself and find a soul to heal.
I spent the next few months watching the old bridge. At last, a woman stumbled across the bridge on a frosty January night. I could smell the alcohol coursing through her and I felt slightly repulsed. Soft cries erupted from her as she looked over the railing. Immediately, I crept behind her and grabbed onto her.
Her blood was the same as the man’s. This time, however, I only tasted a few drops and began the process of changing her into a creature of the night. I pulled her into the nearby forest after the process had begun where I waited five days and nights for her body to change. On the sixth day, her eyes finally fluttered open.
“What have you done?” she cried and grasped at her throat.
“You’re like me, now. I can keep you safe from yourself.” I tried to sound reassuring but was not sure if I had done the right thing. Tears fell down her cheeks as she looked at me.
“I rather be dead than a monster.” Her body was shaking, and she stood up quickly. I grabbed her hand, pulling her back into the shadows of the trees.
“The sun will hurt you,” I said.
The woman began beating her fists against me as she sobbed. “Why couldn’t you kill me out of mercy instead of your own desires?”
Her words took me by surprise. I grabbed her fists and kept them at her side.
“You’ll feel better, I promise. Just calm down. This way of life is better.”
“I’m no longer myself. You’re a monster.” Her red eyes glistened with tears as she looked at me.
Eventually, she did calm down and we slept for the night. In the morning, my heart fell out of my chest. The women was gone and past the trees, in the sunlight, were her clothes with ashes covering them. I could not cry out of pity for myself. Instead, I cried of pity of the women whose name I would never know.
***
I watched the bridge for months and each time I found a soul who wanted out of this world, I offered them a chance at living. They all denied me and were persistent in their ways. I mercy killed person after person. I longed for companionship but found nothing to help me. The blood was sour and disgusting to my tastes, but I continued. They were victims of both themselves and me.
I drank the repulsive blood of many with intentions I at first did not understand. Pondering for hours did not bring me relief. I began to wonder if I should take myself to higher powers just to escape the guilt of not being able to save a soul.
On a sweltering day in August, I was exhausted and distraught. I left the shadows of the tree coverings. My skin caught fire as I walked across the old bridge. The water below would put me out and buy me time to heal. I kept myself in the sun.
The taste of relief in the many victims’ blood had filled me until I too could no longer bear the consequences of life. I prayed, in my final moments, for forgiveness.
Category: Featured, Short Story