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Bedtime Stories

By Safieri All Rights Reserved ©

Drama / Horror

Bedtime Stories

The club was more crowded than usual. There was no space left on the dance floor leaving them all twisting and grinding against each other under the flashing lights. Music blared from the speakers in a deep bass beat that seemed to cast a spell over their pulses forcing them all into the same rhythm. It slowly increased until all arms and faces were raised to the roof as if in offering to the DJ, their movements becoming pleas for some release from the building tension. It left the dancers panting as the music reached a pinnacle and held there for a heartbeat before rushing down the other side into a euphoric melody. Endorphins flooded their veins leaving them light headed as arms entwined, their owners carried away by the music.

In a corner of the club a man’s pale fingers trailed up the sides of a writhing woman while he held her firmly from behind. Her ass massaged his groin in rotating movements while her hand reached back to tangle in his short black hair lightly scraping his scalp with long nails. Bleach white teeth flashed as she smiled at her friend, pinned to the wall a few inches off the floor by the man’s blue haired friend. One leg was hooked around his waist as his hands held her hips tightly to his, mouth fixed at her throat while she moaned. She thought that they’d both scored pretty well despite the crowd being mostly women.

A cultured voice sent shivers down her spine, “How about we go somewhere we can really let loose?” She arched against him and nodded. The man was holding her tightly enough to his chest that she felt the vibrations from his chuckle before he pulled away from her to tap his friend on the shoulder. The blue haired man kept grinding his hips against the other woman but pulled his mouth away from the rosy neck he was mouthing to look a question over his shoulder. A nod toward the door had him moving back just enough so that the panting woman was back on her feet, now unsteady after his very focused attentions. An arm around her waist had her leaning on him as the two couples made their way around the contorting mass still dancing.

The air outside felt impossibly cold after the close quarters and heated bodies inside the club. His strong arm over the her shoulders kept her warm as the black haired man led them down a side street. Above them the clouds parted for the moon to illuminate their path. Sharing a conspiratorial smirk, both women grabbed the men’s hands and pulled them off the road and through a set of gates. Rows of tombstones and mausoleums rose up around them trailing off into the darkness. The women seemed to be leading them down a well known path. In the center of the graveyard were stone benches under a leafless tree surrounded by tombs.

Sitting on a bench the black haired man pulled the woman into his lap while her friend pushed the blue haired man onto his back over one of the tombs, laughing. Straddling his hips she took the opportunity to pick up where he had left off in the club. Not to be outdone, the woman buried her fingers in black hair and pulled the man’s lips to hers. Faint moans teased both men’s ears until the blue haired man pulled away and fairly growled, “Do you always get off in graveyards?”

“You don’t? That added spice of being surrounded by death, it makes you feel more alive doesn’t it?”

His eyes fixed on her throat, a bright blue to match his hair. “Kinky little thing aren’t you? I chose well tonight.” Raising his hips up to rub against her already damp groin he growled low in his throat. Their eyes locked for several breaths as her thundering heartbeat sent blood rushing through her veins, the man’s stare far more intense than she was used to. It took a sharp cry of pain to break their stalemate. Back on the bench the woman was struggling against arms like steel vices, the man’s mouth locked on her throat.

“What the fuck! Let her go!” Scrambling off the blue haired man’s lap the woman stumbled toward the bench but was soon tumbling back onto her ass after a strong tug on her arm. The bright blue eyes almost glowed in the dark as he laughed at her confusion. On the bench the woman’s struggles were becoming weaker, a thin trail of blood traveling down her throat. The wild look in the blue eyes trained on her had the woman backing up until cold stone halted her retreat. Whimpering, she tried to not look at her friend. “Please don’t hurt me. I didn’t see anything. I don’t know anything.”

Condescension filled the blue haired man’s face, “Of course you don’t know anything. Humans are always so certain of the world around them they don’t bother actually looking at it. You make things so fucking easy for us.” His cruel smile revealed sharp canines that elongated as her terrified eyes watched. “Just going to sit there staring at me? Where was that fire I’ve been enjoying all night? My friend only needs blood but I need quite a bit more.”

Squatting down in front of her he leaned close until she could feel his breath on her face, his whisper almost intimate. “Catch on now? I’m going to rip you apart and feast on your flesh. I picked you for your passion, don’t disappoint me now and meekly accept death. Give me a good chase and I’ll make it quick. Bore me and I’ll make it last until you forget how to do anything but scream.”

Panic seized her chest as his words penetrated her brain. Eyes widening until her muscles finally woke and sent her running into the night. Kicking off her heels and dodging tombs and tombstones she didn’t bother sparing a thought for her friend, too focused on her own survival. Mind frantically trying to remember the path back to the gate she stumbled as the silent graveyard echoed with a wolf’s howl. She ran faster.

Oblivious to the life or death race going on, the woman on the bench whimpered and cried even after the man released her throat. Pain radiated from where his teeth had ripped into her but the debilitating weakness stopped spreading. There was no doubt in her mind that he was going to kill her. “You don’t have to do this.” Her voice was faint and it was getting harder for her to stay conscious but she fought to stay awake. His voice was still as cultured as before but the amusement in it chilled her more than the blood loss.

“Actually, I do. You understand the need to eat and for me you are on par with a fine pinot noir. Your blood has a lovely flavor, delicate and fresh with notes of plum and damp earth. Perhaps I should take you with me. Humans keep wine cellars, why not a blood cellar? Not that you’d last long. I can’t see myself holding back from draining you for very long.”

Tears coursed down her cheeks, “Please don’t kill me. If you let me go I’ll bring you someone else. You won’t have to go looking anymore, I’ll bring you all the girls you want!” Pulling her closer he gently patted her back in an almost soothing gesture.

“Hush now, shall I tell you a story? Have you ever heard of the Bird Catcher and the Partridge? One day a partridge was caught by a bird catcher. As the bird catcher readied to snap it’s neck the little partridge begged for it’s life. It promised to lure other partridges into the trap. Do you know what the bird catcher did?” She was holding in a sob, at a loss as to what answer would save her but he continued without waiting for her to respond. “The partridge’s easy betrayal of it’s kind enraged the bird catcher who immediately snapped it’s neck. So you see, there’s no point in begging, my little partridge.”

The woman’s sobs continued until her weakening heart stopped and the graveyard was silent again. Pulling his teeth from her cold throat, the man gently laid her body across the bench and arranged her arms over her chest. Smoothing out her skirt and tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear he stepped back to inspect his work. To a casual observer the woman could have been sleeping. A sigh brought his attention to the bare tree where his friend was leaning. Blood stained the front of his clothes, hands, and face but that was normal for after feeding. The curious expression he wore was not. “Why do you do that?”

“I did just kill her. The least I can do is leave her body looking somewhat respectable.”

Blue eyes rolled as he clarified his question, “Not that part. The story. Every time we eat out you tell them one. Why?”

Turning back toward the gate he gave his friend a smile. “Isn’t it fitting to tell them a bedtime story before their eternal sleep?”

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Ashley Stryker: So I'm writing this review, keeping in mind that this is a work in progress and it's part of National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo), so my "deeper" critiques will be saved until it's all finished up.+ Chapter One: A stewardess would not talk to anyone quite like that, particularly a clear minor...

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