Thursday, May 2, 2013

Crimson Wave

Melinda was lying in bed, sweat pouring down her pale forehead and her stiff limbs. The candle placed by her bedside was now down to a stub, perched in a pool of hot wax that was flooding onto the table. Her breathing was as erratic as the flashes of lightning outside her window. Her lips were a pale blue and her hair was now wet from the cold sweat. The stench of death seemed to hover around the room, waiting to extend its long fingers and embrace Melinda.
            The Bible on her bed was opened to Psalm 23; its red ribbon flipped over on the sheet like a streak of crimson blood. The tips of her fingers, lying lifelessly on the hot sheet, were changing from white to pale blue. Outside her window rolling green hills were covered by the shadows of the dark clouds overhead, as the sheep grazed on the emerald grass, oblivious to the imminent storm.
             Just then there was a noise at the door, and she turned her stiff neck to see the a man walking in with a long black cloak on, the hood pulled up so she couldn’t see his face. He seemed to glide over to her beside, and look at her with eyes not visible to her.
            “I don’t remember asking for a priest,” Melinda said wearily.
            The figure didn’t say anything. He just went down on his knee by her bedside and she frowned and looked at him in question. His face was focused on her face, and when she touched the Bible with the tips of her fingers, he seemed to flinch and she found this very weird. Then suddenly as a long corpse-looking finger protruded from the sleeve of the figure’s cloak, she shuddered.
            “You’re not a priest are you,” she whimpered as his hand was revealed completely out of the sleeve, “Oh God…”
            “Actually quite the opposite,” the figure said in a deep voice.
            He then pulled the hood all the way down to reveal a twisted, pale green face. His eyes were wrinkled, along with the rest of his forehead, and his lips were bright red, covering up monstrous fangs. Melinda attempted to pick up the Bible, but she was too weak, and ended up knocking it off the bed.
            “Get away,” she said, shaking all over, “Get away unclean spirit…”
            “This is the only way for you to survive. You do want to survive right? Go on to lead a healthy life? Well when I’m through with you you’ll have a very long one. Well not so much life, as a very long death,” he said as he cocked his fangs and bore down on her.     
            She screamed aloud as his long fangs pierced her skin, and punctured her jugular vein. The pain was unbearable as he drained her of blood, drop by drop. Her head grew extremely light, the room started to spin, as she heard the rain start to come down outside. She was aware of the demon’s fangs retracting out of her neck, leaving her to lie there on the bed, but the next thing she knew she was seeing darkness.

1 comment:

  1. I really like this glimpse into transformation. Vampires, religion, deception, life and death... go together beautifully.

    I would like to know about her illness, and about why the vampire has decided to "aid" her.

    And one more thing, I think the curiosity of the reader would be more unbearable *grin* if the story was ended at "he said as he cocked his fangs and bore down on her." Somehow, the last paragraph seems to slow things down a bit too much. I would leave them (readers) in pain with hope for eternal lfe, instead of lost in darkness.