Paranormal Contest Winner!
August 27, 2012 | Thombrarian | Comments (2)
There are some seriously talented and imaginative writers out there who participate in Word Out! We were blown away by all of your entries for the Use Your Paranormal Imagination Contest, where you were asked to describe a way for vampires to be created and killed.
Choosing a winner was no easy task, but at the end of the day, we decided to award the prize to Rrrrrrr, for their amazing short story about Katie. Congratulations! You'll be recieving some prizes shortly!
You can check out Rrrrrrr's entry after the break. Remember, there's still one more chance to win a prize, by entering our end-of-summer survey to let us know what you thought of Word Out this year!
She sucked the last bit of blood from her latest victim’s arm, long black hair brushing the boy’s shoulder blades. She pulled it from her face, smiling. It had been a long time since she had resigned herself to this life, longer still since she had repulsed herself. She stood and her hair fell forward, obstructing her vision. Still, she would not tie it— she would never tie it again. She was not the Katie she once was, a sweet girl who tied her hair into perfect pigtails every day. She walked away from the now lifeless body, hair swaying in the breeze.
The Dreams. The Dreams came back. Katie turned in her sleep, tormented by The Dreams. She was nineteen again in those insufferable pigtails she used to love, driving in her mother’s car on a lonely highway, on her way home from Jules’ party. If she focused, she could still feel his arms around her— gentle and caressing, warm and inviting— how good she felt in his embrace. She closed her eyes, just for a moment, really, to submerge herself in the memory. How warm she felt, how wonderfully warm. She should open her eyes, but she just felt so warm, so comfortable. A light. A crash. A scream— was it her own? And then pain. Pain so unbearable, every limb was on fire, every inch of her skin burning, burning. The next bit came in fragmented pieces…the realization that any help could be hours away…crawling onto the road…the car she had hit twisted, the driver bloodied, broken… the driver dying… dead…screaming, no doubt her own now. Thirsty suddenly, but there was nothing to drink. She was so thirsty, so god damn thirsty. She looked at the driver, a man, the blood soaking his clothes. Curious, she thought, the blood almost looked like wine. No, that was disgusting, a disgusting thought. So thirsty. But the thought would not leave, just grew and grew until she knew she would go mad if it wasn’t stopped. So thirsty. Disgusting. Just one lick, one drink. Katie knelt by the man, his ribs seemed as good a place as any, and sucked on the blood streaming from his wounds. It burned her throat, but left a pleasant sort of tingling behind. She could feel her body repairing the damage from the crash, could feel her strength growing.
From that day, any food or drink scalded Katie and rendered her unable to swallow. She could only drink blood. She starved herself at first, revolted by the thought of what she had done. But she would have to do it again if she was to survive. And she did. Again and again. She sustained herself on a kill a month, justifying it as means to her own survival. She became numb, indifferent, killing methodically without emotion. Until once a month wasn’t enough. Until she enjoyed the stalk, the hunt, the kill— the meal. Until she untied her pigtails and became a new Katie.
* * *
‘The army’s outside, waiting,’ Jules said quietly, ‘They’re waiting for me to give them the okay.’
‘And if I kill you before you give the okay?’ Katie sneered.
‘If you try they’ll come in. They’ll kill you’
Katie laughed mirthlessly, ‘I’ll have already killed you, already tasted your blood, before they can get to me.’
He looked at her steadily, his voice still quiet and calm but thick with emotion, ‘What will that do? One last meal before you die? It doesn’t have to end that way. Come with me, we can help. I can help.’
She jumped forward and lifted her blade inches from his face, the blunt tip almost touching his cheek. A flicker of surprise crossed his face before he collected himself. Infuriating, so infuriating, ‘Do you think I’m so stupid as to believe you? They’ll kill me! They’ll kill me for all I’ve done, I know it. I’m not stupid! So why don’t I just kill you first, bring you with me wherever we go when we die? I’ll go to Hell if there is one. I’m not stupid. But you, you’ll go to Hell too.’ He didn’t answer, just continued holding her gaze.
She found it disconcerting and looked away, looked anywhere but his eyes, ‘I’m not stupid. I’ll go to Hell. You’ll go too though. You— you told me you loved me once.’
She didn’t know if he still held her gaze when he spoke because her eyes were glazing over, filling with tears she refused to let fall, ‘I loved the Katie that loved herself. That loved life, not death. Show me you still love life Katie.’
She looked at him now, his eyes were still steady, and let her tears fall silently. Show him, he asked, show him. But she didn’t love life, not her own, so gruesome, tainted by blood not her own. She had to cleanse herself and maybe she could love life. But what could be strong enough to wipe away years of murder and bloodshed? Show him.
She lowered the blade slowly and nodded. One last good deed, one last bit of the old Katie. She would do it. Katie held the knife in both hands and before Jules had time to react, to even think if it was right to stop her, plunged it deep into her own chest.
She fell, her eyes blurred, and her mind registered only fragments. Fragments like she had seen so many years ago. Men and women in uniform, rushing, why were they rushing…blood pouring from her body…Jules’ face just above her.
She touched her hand to her chest and lifted it, covered in blood, to her mouth. She held it close, but it did not touch her lips.
‘Clean now Jules, I— I’m clean,’ her eyelids fluttered momentarily before her hand dropped to her side forever.