He woke up, but he didn't. There wasn't that sense of rising from
slumber. He just suddenly was conscious. For a moment he did
nothing. The moment stretched, and stretched. He should be scared,
he remembered last Montelanche's attack, those fingers around his throat.
His throat? He wanted to touch it, but more he suddenly realized he wanted
to breath. He wasn't. He hadn't since he awoke he realized.
"I'm dead," he thought to himself. He was suprised that there was no
emotional punch to that thought. It wasn't just shock, though he was sure
he was in shock. The honest truth is he felt too good at the moment to
really, really care. He had done his share of drugs, the little drugs that
everyone does not the dangerous type, and he had never ever felt this
"Being dead gets you high," he thought and wanted to giggle. Mostly
though he just wanted drift in this state. So he did.
Time passed, he was sure of that. When next he focused he realized he
was looking at Montelanche's face. There was a smile upon his pinched up
little face and in his current state he was willing to forgive Montelanche for
looking like a constipated mouse.
"You killed me," he told Montelanche in the matter of fact tone of a five
"Yes," Montelanche said in his usual mournful tones, "yes I killed you, and
if you listen to me you can die like this every night for as near as forever as
any being can stand. Would you like that, Jerry?"
He didn't remember saying yes, but yes would have been his answer.
Montlanche smile, widened.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Back to the Vampires
Yesterday, I was thinking of a new slant on vampires, today I think I can construct a scene using it. It would go something like this: