Post by Andrea on May 10, 2006 22:26:22 GMT -5
This is defintiely PG-13, it may need to be in the above teen catagory. If anyone has a strong opinion on the subject please let me know and I will happily move it there.
Based off of a nightmare I had a few days ago. It may help to read Vampire Kitty Guardian, which is located in the contest seciton for original fiction, but it is not neccesary.
I hate that he goes to those parties. I worry constantly about his safety. Will he get herpes? Will he get AIDS? Is he going to get the sh*t knocked out of him? When am I going to have to rescue him?--because I'm going to have to; It's inevitable.
His screams had been audible outside the stucco mansion. As my Mapquest directions lead me into the house the violent reverberations had ceased and I hoped the worst case scenario in my head was an unfounded creation of my imagination.
The door splintered under the heavy weight of my aluminum bat. Three rugby players stood over a crimson streaked bathroom. Deep scarlet stained their forearms and shirt sleeves. It had also dried on chins and foreheads; in places where the men had wiped their dewy brows. The cool weight of the bat and the light canister of "America's Best Pepper Spray" were comforts as I advanced on the WWE wrestler sized men.
Two of the men turned, steroid affected faces ugly and jack-o-lantern like in the light given out by the one remaining fluorescent bulb. The glass shards of the other three where scattered about the vanity and floor. Miniscule fractions of light bulb glass had been dragged across the meager bathroom.
My index finger pressed down on the trigger of the aerosol can, releasing a fine mist that flew around their heads like a swarm of flies. Eyelids snapped shut as fast as the Beatles fell apart after Yoko Ono showed up. The burly man on the right caught his foot on the bathmat and fell, crushing his head on the tapered edge of the counter. A heartbeat later I besieged the second man. His chiseled features exposed no fear of my aluminum Billy club. Nothing but irritation was presented as the club swung. Layers of carefully placed aluminum met bone, blood and brain. I left his skull compressed on the floor in a pool of his life's blood. The third man turned around, a gory box cutter in a grisly left hand. The bat possessed me; all of its metallic malice pulsed through my veins. Metal crashed against flesh for the second time within light speed seconds.
Metal clattered against tile, splitting one beige square into triangular splinters. Grass green eyes met cerulean blue eyes that where disappearing behind eyelids that fluttered like a humming birds wings. "Alec… " a demons possession could never be as terrifying as the look of my friend; his body was shattered and covered in slippery pomegranate red blood.
Hands as light and cool as snow dug into an Indian inspired purse, frantically searching for a cell phone like the 49'ers searched for gold. Blood stained fingers flipped open the phone and pressed 911, leaving a clear track of where they had been.
"911, emergency, how may I help you?" A professional, seemingly unfeeling voice answered efficiently.
"I'm at 5467 Kenwood street, St. Paul. There's been a… Assault with a deadly weapon by two party's and what looks like rape and attempted murder… " saying those words caused something within me to shatter. A glass bowl that had capably held my emotions together my entire life had slipped off of its white shelf and had been demolished by an arctic, concrete floor.
Exhausted limbs gave up any pretense of strength and I sat miserably, surrounded by the victims of their unfounded rage, and my justifiable but still horrible rage, waiting for someone to come take me away.
Based off of a nightmare I had a few days ago. It may help to read Vampire Kitty Guardian, which is located in the contest seciton for original fiction, but it is not neccesary.
Nightmare
I hate that he goes to those parties. I worry constantly about his safety. Will he get herpes? Will he get AIDS? Is he going to get the sh*t knocked out of him? When am I going to have to rescue him?--because I'm going to have to; It's inevitable.
His screams had been audible outside the stucco mansion. As my Mapquest directions lead me into the house the violent reverberations had ceased and I hoped the worst case scenario in my head was an unfounded creation of my imagination.
The door splintered under the heavy weight of my aluminum bat. Three rugby players stood over a crimson streaked bathroom. Deep scarlet stained their forearms and shirt sleeves. It had also dried on chins and foreheads; in places where the men had wiped their dewy brows. The cool weight of the bat and the light canister of "America's Best Pepper Spray" were comforts as I advanced on the WWE wrestler sized men.
Two of the men turned, steroid affected faces ugly and jack-o-lantern like in the light given out by the one remaining fluorescent bulb. The glass shards of the other three where scattered about the vanity and floor. Miniscule fractions of light bulb glass had been dragged across the meager bathroom.
My index finger pressed down on the trigger of the aerosol can, releasing a fine mist that flew around their heads like a swarm of flies. Eyelids snapped shut as fast as the Beatles fell apart after Yoko Ono showed up. The burly man on the right caught his foot on the bathmat and fell, crushing his head on the tapered edge of the counter. A heartbeat later I besieged the second man. His chiseled features exposed no fear of my aluminum Billy club. Nothing but irritation was presented as the club swung. Layers of carefully placed aluminum met bone, blood and brain. I left his skull compressed on the floor in a pool of his life's blood. The third man turned around, a gory box cutter in a grisly left hand. The bat possessed me; all of its metallic malice pulsed through my veins. Metal crashed against flesh for the second time within light speed seconds.
Metal clattered against tile, splitting one beige square into triangular splinters. Grass green eyes met cerulean blue eyes that where disappearing behind eyelids that fluttered like a humming birds wings. "Alec… " a demons possession could never be as terrifying as the look of my friend; his body was shattered and covered in slippery pomegranate red blood.
Hands as light and cool as snow dug into an Indian inspired purse, frantically searching for a cell phone like the 49'ers searched for gold. Blood stained fingers flipped open the phone and pressed 911, leaving a clear track of where they had been.
"911, emergency, how may I help you?" A professional, seemingly unfeeling voice answered efficiently.
"I'm at 5467 Kenwood street, St. Paul. There's been a… Assault with a deadly weapon by two party's and what looks like rape and attempted murder… " saying those words caused something within me to shatter. A glass bowl that had capably held my emotions together my entire life had slipped off of its white shelf and had been demolished by an arctic, concrete floor.
Exhausted limbs gave up any pretense of strength and I sat miserably, surrounded by the victims of their unfounded rage, and my justifiable but still horrible rage, waiting for someone to come take me away.