Don’t you want…?1
Clambering up the stone wall, senses open to the wind, he seeks.2
He’s been on the streets since eleven PM. It's coming up on four now. He hasn’t seen a single damn person.3
‘Cet is amazed, mystified, and beginning to get angry. The Iron Triangle is never this empty. Never. 4
Now in desperation he has ranged to the edges of his territory, running out of places to look. So he climbs the wall, gritting his teeth, digging his claws in. It takes effort; his body is not as strong or young as it used to be. Brick and mortar splinter away from the pressure, rattling clattering down the wall to the ground.5
This bareness of territory offends him. He resents the implication that he hasn't been working hard enough. So he puts some real effort into it, forcing himself upward in defiance of gravity's strident demands. Dragging his thin body up over the top of the wall, he grips the bricks firmly with his hind talons so as not to fall backwards.6
Don’t you need…?7
Yes, he thinks in response. Yes, yes, yes. But there’s nothing on the wind, nothing in the air. Everyone is inside, asleep. Against all odds, the city that never sleeps appears to have fallen into somnolence. 8
Frustration like a bat trapped in a car careens around inside, ricocheting. ‘Cet has to grit his teeth to keep from screaming into the urban night. That’ll wake someone up, he knows, but not who he wants …9
Wouldn’t you love…?10
One hand pressed to his belly, the raindrake wrinkles his muzzle against the pain of a gut cramp. A low whine whistles free. He is empty, so empty. No money, no herbs, no sketch even. He begins to despair of finding anyone.11
You better find…12
I know! “I KNOW!”13
“Hey!”14
That wasn’t his own voice. An instant later, the misborn finds himself bathed in light. 15
‘Cet turns, his overlong musteline tail curling and flicking. He is agitated. If he knows his luck, and he does -- yep, goddamnit -- his lips peel back from his teeth. Looking down the wall, he sees trouble in blue fatigues. 16
Part of him insists this is just a policeman, looking for other prey, that if he is quiet he will move on. But his hunger sees something else, something he remembers. He fancies he smells the blood of predators on this grazer's hands. A low growl purls in 'Cet's chest. A skinkeeper! 17
The cop, a corpulent bovine, is pointing a stinging flashlight into his eyes. Unable to make out the scowl on its distant face, the officer squints up at the figure on the wall with mild befuddlement. 18
“Son, what are you doing up there? And who are you talking to?"19
‘Cet barely hears the skinkeeper's voice. His nostrils are clotted with the heavy scent of bull. Something deep inside lifts its head and roars, something ancient and nameless.20
"Git down before you hurt yourse -- oh holy Mother, don't just -- !”21
'Cet lets go of the wall.22
Falling down at the bull in uniform with knife and claws at the ready, wings pinioned to speed the drop, 'Cet's mind whirls in ancitipation, oblivious to the ninety-foot fall. 23
Not sure what the hell just happened, the cop drops his flashlight in favor of his sidearm, but it's too late. ‘Cet lands with a whistle and squeal of talons scrabbling over body armor and they both go down, rolling. 24
'Cet howls and thrashes, digging with three sets of claws while he tries to find a place to put the knife, his teeth, but at the same time the bull knows he's got three times the weight of his attacker so 'Cet has to keep jerking, keep them rolling. If the bull gets atop him he'll be crushed. Copper and gut-scent punch through the pseudodragon's nostrils to his brain, something swings down onto his horn and he finds his grip, biting25
/stutter/26
(stillness?)27
‘Cet pushes himself up, blinking. He lies across the motionless body of the former policeman. The killer stares down at the lolling head, into the glassy eyes. 28
He doesn’t remember falling.
He doesn’t remember the wall.
He sees only one thing. 29
The gashes, the slashes, the marks of his own claws and teeth. But mainly, the knife. What’s on the knife. What he’s licking off the knife, even before he becomes aware of what it is. 30
Bronze eyes glitter golden in the flashlight backwash.31
Blood.32
Blood ...33
...love...
Author notes
Inspired by the paradoxical images that sometimes jump into my head when I listen to the Agent Orange cover of Somebody to Love.
A contest entry
- Vampires, Horror… Supernatural Episodes! by dark-fantasies.
300 points, ended April 27, 2008, 12 entries
Honorable mention
• next story in this contest, remove from contest
Was this an enjoyable glimpse into the culture and mindset of the streets in this world, or did it just feel like an excuse for gratuitous violence?
Comments
1 - 8 of 8
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Hmm.
That's pretty interesting. I've never read anything quite like it. I had a little trouble figuring out what was going on at first, but it sort of clicked eventually. All in all, it was beautifully written. I enjoyed it a lot.
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this was a mildly interesting story I suppose. A vampire with Skitso, what an interesting thought. I am not one for vampire stories that are all about romance, but this was more the kind I like. I'd give it two stars, it's certainly a start.
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... It's not a vampire story. What gave you the idea it was? Oh god. *fails*
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Thanks for entering!
This was rather confusing, but still good, it would have been better if you had explained what they were before everything happened I was perplexed by the story, though you wrote it farely well.
thanks.
Damian -
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ack! Damn, I was hoping you hadn't seen that before I got a chance to fix it. I meant to enter the other one because this one is so thoroughly, yeah, "in-universe". I realised that a minute after I settled on it. x.x; Oh well. Thank you, anyhow. If you're in the mood for this kind of stuff you may as well poke around in my other stories. Basically everything I write is about some manner of viciousness or another.
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Tis all cool, I'll just put your other one up on the finalists in stead of this one.
Damian
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This was interesting, but a little confusing. I wasn't really sure what your main character was- thought it was some sort of animal, but the cop's reaction to it makes me confused. Apart from that though, this was a really good story, with a great flow. I like how it keeps the reader guessing what will happen next, and the concept behind the story is intriguing. The descriptions and detail you put into this was great, and I really liked the ending. Overall, great job, and I really enjoyed it.
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Argh. Clearly this strategy isn't working. If you don't mind, I could really use some help with this.
All the characters in Paradise City are human, except with their inner animal visible and tangible on the outside. They're all considered "human beings", one race, by themselves, because they are unique as bipedal tool-using hyper-environment-modifiers in their world, just like our version of Homo sapiens is in ours. World history is even more or less the same; the names and geography are just somewhat different. But not so different that the analogs aren't occasionally recognizable.
The animalness of individual characters is almost universally a metaphor for the archetype that character represents, and/or its own self-perception, and/or its purpose in the story/life, whatever best represents its spiritual resonance... usually all of the above and more.
'Cet and the other "misborn"/raindrakes and the other pseudodragons are different, which is a long story.
But essentially they're all furries. I hate using the words "furry", "anthro", et al because it strongly implies that the characters are only animal-people because I happen to think animal people are cool and/or sexy. Which is far from the case.
(Point of fact, I spent years trying to force Paradise City to be populated only by normal humans and the characters actively rebelled. Some of them are "flat-faces", but the grand majority have some inner beast, and after being used to showing it, they didn't like going back 'in the closet'.)
So what I've been trying to do is to describe them how they see each other and themselves, with the animalistic behavior and references yet with all the human surroundings, tools, activities, and so forth. I thought the average reader would make four of the evidence and figure out what I was trying to convey.
It sounded great in theory, but so far it's failed utterly in reality.
So what would be more effective without resorting to the "F" word, d'you think? If you don't have time/inclination, no worries, but I'd really like some help on this one.
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