An Alley Shrouded

[BlueFlames]

Not my best work (copped out on the ending, but at least it has an ending), but here's my obligatory Halloween short story, about a month and a half early...


"Why do I hunger?" Brion thought, silently to himself.

The darkened alley, in which he sat, seemed nigh-endlessly long, and the bright lights of the street were but a memory at the midpoint of the narrow, roof-less corridor. All manner of trash bag, dumpster, cardboard box, and barrel was scattered throughout the length of the alley, making a quick trek through impossible, particularly in the low light. The only way this alley could have even more potential for hazard would be if there was only one means to enter or leave, but this one had two.

At each end of the alley was a shining column of light, as if they were open gates to heaven. The moon, directly overhead at this hour, paled in comparison, even at its fullest. In the middle, there was only shadow and Brion. Brion could have lost track of his hand, if it were not attached to his arm, so deep was the shadow of the alley. The dim light of the moon did not seem to want to finish its journey to the alley's floor, so it stopped just overhead, leaving Brion and the alley in darkness.

"Why do I hunger?" Brion thought to himself again, this time less rhetorically. His heart pumped hard, making his whole body throb and ache. Brion's mouth was parched, and his muscles weak. "Moreover, when was the last time I fed?" Brion asked aloud, sure that nobody could hear.

Brion heard a woman's scream come from the street to the south, directly behind him. A dark blot appeared at the bottom of the column of light, as the woman whom the scream belonged to rounded the corner into the alleyway. It was a genuinely stupid decision on her part to enter the alley. This was the type of alley that police and city officials warned people about. This type of alley was a criminal's paradise due to the critical shortage of witnesses and the navigation hazards strewn about the ground. What kind of fool would turn down such an alley with muggers already in tow?

In some ways, the woman was a very lucky fool, for this particular alleyway had developed a reputation that the muggers behind her had learned to fear. They haphazardly fired two shots, one missing by a wide margin, and the other grazing the woman's tearing some of her hair and grazing her ear. The muggers stood at the end of the alley after that, hoping that the woman might try to retreat right back into their hands, but otherwise took no action.

Brion was realized quite suddenly that he was downwind, as he could recognize the scent of blood almost as soon as the shot was fired. He swirled around on one foot to face the action, and shot his nose into the air. Most perceived the scent of blood as similar to copper or iron, but Brion detected it as another metal, lead. Lead carries with it a slightly sweeter taste and smell than other metals, which was why water carried through lead pipes in ancient Greece had an attractive taste. Brion made note of the parallel with his own life and began walking toward the south end of the alley, blindly feeling his way through the obstacles on the ground.

As he grew closer, the scent grew stronger. The woman probably hadn't noticed it, either because the odor was too faint for her to detect, she was still in awe from being shot, or she was baffled, trying to figure out why two burly muggers would stop chasing her. Brion didn't know where his body found the moisture, in its starved, thirsty state, but his mouth began to water as he got nearer the source of the odor. In his chest, his heart pounded harder and harder, until each contraction was like a punch in the chest, and his veins burned from the pressure. He would normally not approach such an excited woman, but his hunger drove him, and nothing his brain could tell him would have any bearing on what he chose to feed on.

The woman stood and dusted off her suit jacket. It was a beige suit, as dull and uninspiring as they have ever been made, not that that was apparent in the darkened alley. She looked back to the alley entrance and saw that the muggers had stopped chasing her, but not abandoned her. They were waiting, in case she turned around, which filled her with a sudden sense of danger again. She could feel her adrenal glands squeeze, in response to her expectation of more attackers either in the alley or at the other end. She took a step forward, and her high heel clopped against the pavement. She took another step, and another, expecting with each footfall to have something leap out of the shadow to finish what the other criminals had begun. She screamed, as if touching death itself, when her foot landed on a trash bag, which rattled with the sound of aluminum cans within.

Calming herself, she continued, one step, then another, and so on. This alley ran the length of a city block, so she consciously tried to stop worrying. By the time she was a third the way down the alley, she looked over her shoulder and saw nothing in the column of light at the alley's end. She took another step forward, pondering turning around, but in midthought, she felt something tugging on her skirt.

Brion looked up at the woman, as she looked down, and their eyes met. Brion spoke first, "Mommy?" Brion hated demeaning himself with this act. He felt that it insulted himself and the woman. The ploy worked whenever Brion used it, though, with the other party never questioning how a child, incapable of recognizing his own mother or father, would be able to survive in a secluded alley.

The woman's heart melted in an instant. Though not a mother herself, her instincts guided her to worry for this little child's welfare. She tucked her hands underneath the boy's shoulders and picked him up, to take a look. "You can't be older than four or five. What's your name?"

Brion's voice, so high that it practically squeaked, answered with a question, "I'm Bwion. Are you my mommy?" Turning the 'r' into a 'w' as he spoke his name was simply degrading. He knew he had to act the age he appeared, but Brion wondered what it was about an 'r' that was so difficult for children to understand.

A tear trickled down the woman's face. It glistened for a moment in the fading moonlight. It once would have dazzled Brion, but he had seen this before, and he knew what came next. His body yearned for it, and the wait was unbearably long. The woman, too overwhelmed by emotion to be suspicious of a young boy, pulled the boy in to hug him. Quite immediately, though, she felt something piercing her neck.

Brion's two fangs sunk deep into the woman's neck. It took almost no time for him to find the woman's carotid artery, and she was too stunned to do anything about it. The satiating blood slowly trickled into Brion's mouth as he dug into the artery that fueled the woman's brain. Once he struck it, he removed his fangs and placed his mouth over the remaining holes to suction the blood out much faster. Her arms fell away from Brion, but he was holding himself up with his arms over her shoulders. As she grew weaker, she dropped to her knees, feeling the life drain away from her, through her neck. Her brain, deprived of oxygen, fell unconscious, long before her body could die.

Some time later, Brion's feast had finished. His heart had calmed, and he no longer hungered. The sun had begun to rise, so more light was entering the alley, making it easier to see. Brion's victim was bone-white, as if she had been dead for many hours longer than she had been. She had slumped over, on top of Brion earlier, but Brion, unwilling to let a single drop of sustenance escape his lips, he let her fall on top of him. This was now inconvenient, since, while the woman was not overweight, Brion had the body of a child, which meant rolling her off would be a difficult affair. He bared his teeth, still stained bright red with the woman's blood, and pushed with all his strength, but her torso would not move. Her long, smooth, brown hair had fallen on either side of Brion's head, so he couldn't tell which side was quicker for him by.

Brion's situation had become slightly more urgent, as his shove had shifted the woman's brest, such that it was now pressing down on Brion's ribcage. He had trouble breathing with the added pressure on his chest and in his mind, the fight-or-flight instinct began to trigger. He had to move, so he kicked with his heels, trying to force his way forward. The corpse atop him would not allow Brion to slip away. He began to flail wildly, and with his last breath, issued a shrill scream. None but his victim heard Brion's cry, and she was hardly in a position to act.

[Chimera]

He's channeling Anne Rice, but without the "I-know-vampires-so-damned-well-that-I-don't-need-an-editor" attitude.

[BlueFlames]

Heh. Wasn't really going for the D&D/Dracula vampire archetype.

I'm actually still looking over this for revisions. As usual, the ending is what's bugging me. I'll probably fiddle with it tomorrow, after lab.