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If it weren't for his extensive injuries and discomfort, Jason might never
have woken from the hypnotic ease he had fallen into listening to the vampire
tell his story. In fact, long after the story had stopped, and the vampire fell
silent, Jason continued to lay with his eyes closed, not sleeping, but not yet
awake.
It wasn't until the vampire nudged him that Jason awoke slightly.
The tale was done, and the vampire was about to leave with Jason's sole
possessions in life in tow. In an instant, Jason decided to try to kill this
vampire one last time. He moved his fingers ever so slightly, making sure his
arm had not fallen asleep, and would move when he needed it to. Satisfied that
he had complete feeling in his right arm, he opened his eyes and saw that the
vampire was holding a satchel that most likely contained all of the bank
documents that held Jason's fortune. How easy he held the riches of a once
dynastic family. The vampire walked to the far corner of the room, opening the
blinds a bit to peer into the street. Full darkness had fallen on the crowded
streets of Virginia, and the vampires hours had arrived.
Jason slowly felt the floor for the gun. Holding his breath, Jason
exhaled deeply when his fingers found cold steel. Seizing the gun slowly, he
tightened his grip and slowly lifted the gun and tucked it into his shirt
sleeve. He let out a deep breath, and listened. He heard the footsteps approach
and could sense the vampire was near. Opening his eyes, he saw the vampire
before him. He had the gun pointed at his head in an instant, thought of saying
something, and then thought against it. He fired once, a small bullet hole
emerging in the pale forehead of the vampire. A look of surprise crossed the
vampires face, as the bullets lone report echoed throughout the apartment, and a
small trickle of blood coursed down the vampires face. The vampre fell to the
floor, smoke rising from the gun, and from his forehead where the hot bullet had
burned the skin.
Jason let out a deep breath, panting and sweating. His chorus of
wounds was screaming bloody murder, but he had to stand and run out of this room
immediately. He dropped the gun. Pressing his palms against the wall, he began
to slide up the wall, keeping some of the pressure off of his stomach and chest,
which felt as if a sledgehammer had struck. He stood against the wall, leaning
against the cracked plaster. He thumbed sweat from his brow, feeling the sting
as some ran into his eyes.
Clutching his ribs on the right side, Jason lifted off the wall
and tried to stand under his own power. The pain was immediate. Something was
damaged in his chest and stomach, but he didn't have time for that right now.
Jason took one last look at the vampire. It lay still on the
ground. The smoke was now a thin tendril lofting from its face. Jason turned
towards the door, and took a cautious step.
The eyes of the vampire opened, and the creature began to rise. It
was on it's feet in a second, already approaching Jason silently as he
manuevered his first steps. Clutching Jason from the back of his neck, the
vampire rammed him head first into the door. Jason let out a startled and more
than slightly feminine shout and immediately his hands went to his face.
The vampire laughed at the sound of the high pitched yell. He
pushed Jason back across the room. Jason thudded hard against the far wall, but
he didn't fall this time. Blood poured down his face where the gash split his
forehead. The vampire walked across the room, closing in on his prey.
"I was going to let you live. I was fully prepared to just
take your money as punishment for the awful human that you are. You are truly a
waste of skin, and I now do not like you!", the vampire yelled.
Jason stammered forward, his bloody hands forming a cross at his
chest. "No please. Don't hurt me, I don't deserve it. I am not that bad,
just confused. I can be a better person", Jason pleaded.
The vampire nodded. He had decided Jason's fate and was a moment
from enacting it.
"Let me understand. You wish me to let you live, and go about
your business?", he asked.
Jason shook his head vigorously, tears falling from his eyes in
large drops. "Ye..yes. Please! I won't ever use another person. I will only
help others. I promise".
The vampire considered this for an instant. He scratched at his
forehead, where the bullet still sat lodged. The mark was ugly, with black char
marks around the small circle.
"You have done your best to kill me, and have failed. You may
however had temporarily ruined my appearance, and that I can not forgive. But,
Jason, I have travelled the world and seen many things, and although this is
America, I do believe the worldwide creed should reign in this room. I will let
the punishment fit the crime. Truly, an eye for an eye!"
Jason pissed himself as the vampire approached. Cold hands, as
strong as steel grabbed at this face. Long fingers with nails as sharp as blades
found the gash on Jasons forehead, and took hold firmly.
Jason screamed loudly as he head the skin being torn off of his
face. Mercifully, he passed out as a large piece of his face was place in his
hands, as the vampire continued to tear.
Officer Barron patrolled Winston Street, and Dutch Ave at night
like it was his own street. He walked up and down, speaking with children,
residents and store owners alike. He liked these people, and although times were
hard, soon to be getting harder, most were still optimistic.
Barron was frail for an Irishman, with a shot of thick red hair
and the customary freckled and green eyes. He had a confident stroll that
forgave his lack of size. A baton hung on his right hip, although he never
twirled it like some. He thought that the baton twirling was an unnecessary
intimidation.
He had heard a God awful scream only a moment ago, as high pitched
as a woman, but sickeningly desperate. He was walking at a quick pace towards
the general area of the scream, hoping desperately that it was not another wife
finding a dead by suicide husband. He rounded the corner and saw a large group
of people gathered. He began to trot, and then stopped dead in his tracks. He
walked slowly, his hand reaching for his baton. He let it drop, the clanging
sound of petrified wood striking the rough pavement.
A man was walking past the crowd. He was dressed well, rich, by
the look of it. His undershirt was stained deeply red with blood. His hands were
drenched in blood, and his stagger was uneven, off balance and clumsy. Although
Barron wished now for the dead by suicide husband, the blood and the walk were
by far not the worst of it.
The man had no skin on his face. His skull was evident, complete
with blood, veins and teeth. He had no lips, and his chattering teeth could be
seen fully. But, the worst of all, the one thing that would haunt Barron for the
rest of his long life, was the eyes of the man. With no eyelids to block his
eyes, Barron watched as they darted from place to place, and then found the
officer. The most horrifying thing about those eyes, wasn't their fright and
terror, but their total understanding that he had no face.
Barron vomited on his unifrom before bending to finish throwing up
on the street. He held his stomach as he watched the man walk past. Barron
crossed himself, but made no move to help or follow.
©2004 StoriesByEmail.com
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