|
 |
||||||||||
|
|||||||||||
|
|||||||||||
Dirty, Black and Full of Spikes
by
Ben Wesling
Breathing hard from the exertion of climbing the 1447 steps up to the top of the Empire State Building, I paused at the big doorway to the outside walkway. It was near closing time for visitors, and I would have to take the last elevator down in about 20 minutes. The sun had just set when I had begun my climb, and now it was dark with a rising moon over the lights of Manhattan. Skyscrapers darkly blotted out the sky, bits of office lights clinging to the last faint shreds of day here and there, as I pushed open the glass doors and walked out slowly into the windy cool air of Halloween night in New York City.I zipped my leather jacket up to my neck, appearances mostly, as I didnt really feel the biting cold of the wind that whipped invisibly around the spire above. The few remaining stragglers nearby would not notice me if I blended in, so I moved over to the railing and stared out at the city. It breathed and pulsed like a living thing, concrete and steel and glass and flesh and blood, all intermingled in a great glorious smorgasbord I had lately taken a huge delight in sinking my fangs into. I smiled inwardly at the symbolism, my fists clenching inside my pockets with the memory of my most recent encounter.
Forgive my manners. I am Bram Stillwell. New York resident. Nocturnal through and through. And a gemini, if you must know.
Now, where was I? Ah yes.
It was in the subway, late one night last week. My train was a few minutes late, so I had struck up a conversation with a pretty young woman on the bench nearby. She had moved closer after a brief smattering of small talk, and I could sense her blood pounding warm and wet beneath her blouse and cotton jacket. My mouth moved and spoke and uttered, but my mind had already taken the next step, locking on to her veins with a powerful pheromone that I exuded from altered and mutated sweat glands. She had put her hand on mine, and the sweet shock of the electrical signal transfer was almost overwhelming, when suddenly the train approached from far off down the dark narrow tunnel. Screeching hissing air brakes sounded, echoing off the cylindrical walls towards us like a mechanical beast in search of its prey.
I had pulled her to her feet, held her head in my hands, kissed her gently. She did not resist. Then my mouth traveled slowly to her neck, where I pierced her deeply and drank, savoring her heady beauty as it flowed from her into me, trickling down my throat with a warm tangy jolt.But only a taste, just enough to give me the energy to get home to my penthouse on 59th street. She sat down in a daze, her mind confused and unsure of what had just transpired. I had watched her as the train pulled away with me on it. Still sitting on the bench, waiting for her train, not realizing fully that it was pulling out of the station. She would come to in a short while, and be all right, but never quite remember my face or what my voice sounded like. Another warm body, another night in the city, another person who would never know how close they came to death.
Looking down towards the streets far below, I marveled at the tiny cars and buses and taxis, moving like little neon ants on their way to destinations of little importance. Halloween parties. Devilish get togethers. Voodoo gatherings. Occult celebrations. The pagan decadence that vibrated far below gave me strength, hope and a strange unfamiliar sense of belonging to something. Even if it was only for one lousy night a year.
Way off in the distance a cloud bank gathered its puffy black core, pulling in positive ions in a vicious upward stream of broken molecules, soon to be released in a downward slant of rain and dangerous white bolts of lightning somewhere over the city. I smiled, the smile that only those who are in tune with the elements of fire can understand, how it manifests as flame or smoldering embers or electrical impulses that char and singe and burn and eventually give life. I felt a part of that life, that terrible burning urge to seek out other life and take from it, take bits and pieces and drops of it, and in turn give back and inject a little of my own life into that which I had taken from.
"Excuse me. Do you know when the last elevator is going down to the ground level ?" A voice said on my left suddenly. I turned to see a woman about 40, blond and still on the edge of pretty, a rich well kept mistress that looked like she never worked a day in her life. Blouse, jacket, skirt and heels. Tasteful. Desirable.
"Yes, the last one is in about 15 minutes,".... I said to her, my senses drinking her in like a kid gulping kool-aid on a hot summer day in the bronx. Ah yes, I thought, a small sip for the road. Come to me.
"Do you mind if I wait for it with you ? I hate being alone in a strange elevator !", she said, her eyes looking up into mine, her pupils dilating in obvious attraction, her body pulling closer so her arm brushed mine. Her fur coat could not hide the scent of her essence, intoxicating and fresh and strong with clean blood clear of toxins and alcohol.
I smiled at her, taking her arm in mine, and we turned to the railing and looked out over the expanse of the city skyline together. The black cloud seemed closer. Sirens wailed far below, headed for Central Park. The leather wings of night began to beat all around me.
"Come here often ?" she said, her body shifting and adjusting itself to my energy, the alignment of energy that occurs when two people meet in a memorable place far from the constraints of home and work. Collision imminent, no avoiding it. Come to me, my mind said. The word runes I added between my spoken words slithered past her psychic defenses.
MInimal defenses, like most people in the city.
"Well, I am doing research for my novel. I came here to see if the view would give me inspiration for a scene where 2 people fall in love. Two people who were strangers until a chance encounter that sent them into another world, where all the rules get bent and broken. So, no, its my first time." I lied.
"I know what you mean. I met my first husband right down in the lobby of this place. What a mistake that was. Have'nt been here since then, 10 years ago now......" she trailed off, lost in the thoughts of her frail memories.
I sent my mind into hers, trying to see if I could locate her pleasure centers, where she kept her innermost secrets and desires hidden. They were not too deep, not nearly as deep as mine were. They pulsated with a soft pink glow in my inner sight, a bank of little lights that revealed her need for attention and acceptance by a strong male influence in her life. I sank my hooks into the pink lights, jabbing them deep and hard, but slow and sure, taking care not to upset her consciousness too much.
She reacted by squeezing my arm, turning to me and gazing up with a look of longing and submission that even she was unaware of on the surface of her frail reality.
God it was so easy, so easy to see inside these people. I stood still as a statue, amazed at the flood that now surged through me, a flash flood of sensation that threatened to knock me over if I was'nt careful. This was a keeper, I realized. No addictions, no diseases, no flaws, no real weaknesses. Maybe she had been an athlete in her younger days.
"The first time I came up here, I had just won the silver medal in the 84 olympics. I was 19, a gymnast, in the best shape of my life. Now look at me ! 3 marriages and two kids later. But, thats how life goes....right ?" she said, and I hoped she had not noticed my involuntary shudder at her mention of the dreaded word. Silver. Ignore it, move on.
"Yeah, thats how life goes, I guess, when you are living in this day and age..." I lamely offered, unsure of how to respond to her.
She looked closely at me, like she was trying to peer inside of me.
"For some reason I trust you. And I never talk to strange men. Unless they buy me a drink, of course !". She laughed, a carefree laugh that still held a tinge of bitterness wrapped inside it, like a dark center of a cherry tootsie pop. Halloween and candy, they were on my brain suddenly, and so I began to wonder why she was up here of all places, when her kids and family were somewhere far below, perhaps waiting for her.
She gripped my arm more firmly, and breathed a heavy contented sigh, as if we were an old married couple, totally at ease with each other and our long history together. I breathed in her sigh, a wispy scent laden vapor that carried her emotions in it like a dandelion on the breeze, floating and aimless and innocent of all evil.
Out of the corner of my eye I noticed something, a movement too quick to be normal, too fast to be an average person walking or even running. I turned as the fist was sledgehammering towards my jaw, and as I sidestepped it still grazed my chin, flinging my head sideways with the impact. He had my full attention now. Oh, yes.
Pushing the woman away to the side where she fell on the ground, I turned to face my assailant fully head on. He was tall, pale, dressed in a black trenchcoat, black gloves. Short black hair framed a gaunt face, twisted in a look of pure hate, a look that would have scared the crap out of any law abiding tax paying citizen. But I was not any of that. Not tonight. I was something this guy had never seen before.
"Run, buddy, or you die right here in front of your little whore !" he gasped in a gravelly voice. Moonlight glinted off a long blade in his left hand, and as time stood still I could read the engraved markings of the blades manufacturer. Schecter and Co., Connecticut. The slow motion sensation always preceded moments of extreme violence and intense reaction in me, and I felt sorry for this poor idiot, who really had no idea of what he was actually messing with.
The woman screamed then, a bloodcurdling scream guaranteed to bring the security guard running from his little guard house around the corner of the spire. I had to make this quick. And very painful. Ah yes, I was going to enjoy this one, and I didnt care if the woman saw me either. I would deal with her later.
The black cloud that was far off was now almost overhead, and tiny snakelike veins of lightning began running in zigzag patterns high over us inside the boiling cloud mass, parallel to the ground. They gathered strength, combining and coalescing into a huge bolt that suddenly arced downwards and hit the metal pole on the very top of the Empire State Building. The bolt exploded into smaller fragments of electricity as it ran down the length of the pole, branching off into thousands of rivulets of white fire as it headed towards us and our momentarily frozen scene of violent confrontation.
The thunderclap hit next, rolling and deafening us as we were illuminated by the flash from on high.
The white hot threads from the sky raced down the arched dome above our heads next, leaping suddenly to the railing behind us where it ran along in both directions, encircling us with dancing unholy fire. It was then that I decided to make my move.
I watched the tall guy blink, his lashes making a slow sweep over his eyeballs, and when they were at their lowest point, I launched myself at his body, the sudden inertia of me surging like a freight train against his motionless frame. He lost his balance, mostly from the sudden surprise of me moving so fast, and fell backwards onto his back, with me on top of him.
I gazed down at his pale face, his thin eyebrows, his bad teeth grimacing up at me in shock and surprise. I could feel the woman off to my side, excited and breathing fast with the adrenaline of combat, fear, and sexual arousal all mixed together.I had him pinned, and he knew it, but he didnt really feel afraid yet, and began thinking of struggling against me. This was where the Thirst always takes over, and this time was a real barnbuster. My teeth were in his neck in an instant, sunk so deep I pierced his esophagus, and his wet gurgling and choking began to get a little noisy. I inhaled a great red fount of his blood, drinking it down in one huge gulp like a college student guzzling the first beer of the weekend. At a frat party from hell. A hell he had brought on himself.
His eyes glazed over, pupils contracting and fading like a dead flower in the sun, and I was done. Rising swiftly, I pulled the woman to her feet, wiped my mouth with a tissue from my pocket, and steered her towards the elevator doors some 20 yards away. She came without resisting, just a minor whimper or two as we waited for the big sliding doors to open. Finally the yellow light blinked at the roof level, and we walked inside and turned as the doors shut soundlessly.
Our last view of the outside before the doors closed was picture postcard perfect, the teeming city of lights, the city that never sleeps, the center of the universe. A light rain beginning to fall. Oh, and a body in a trenchcoat, drained of all color and life force, laying in a heap next to the railing, a couple of tourists gingerly shaking him. Maybe they thought he was asleep, a bum, somehow managed to elude the guards and get up there. Happened occasionally, from what I read in the papers.The elevator began to pick up speed, earning its reputation as the fastest elevator in the world with a top speed of over 90 miles an hour at the peak of its descent. The woman clutched me like a child holding its parent in a storm. Her body shivered with the shock of survival, the trauma of making it through a vicious attack that could have easily taken her fragile life away. I reached inside of her, to see what was left of her mind at this moment, and how she would recall this incident in the long years to follow. I had no intention of drinking from her now, she had been through enough for one night.
Yes, even we can be merciful, at times. Not often, but we can exhibit mercy when it is justified.
"How are you ? Are you ok ?" I asked her, with genuine concern, an emotion I was not used to. But, like a spare tire, there when I needed it.
"I...I think....yes, I am ok.....but....." she never finished her sentence. It was just as well. Because now inside her was a place that seethed, a small room of terror and pain. It would move in her dreams, it would haunt her in the mirror. It was a shifting, nameless thing, but it was there. It now lived inside of her, in a place where she could not reach it, and could not avoid it.
The last thing I did was remove any memory of myself from it, the least I could do. I knew full well myself what it was like, to exist and live with an awful thing like this, a thing that was dirty, black and full of spikes.
TO COMMENT ON THIS STORY CLICK HERE
© Wesling, 2006
The author lives by the ocean in San Diego, on the second floor of a haunted apartment building. He lives every day as if it was friday the thirteenth and halloween combined. He loves dark chocolate, video games, and cemeteries. Not always in that order.