I heard rumours about vampires, in these last days on PS, and that stimulated my creativity. I wrote that novel, that is NOT a comedy, but on my intent, a chill tale...
Enjoy it
Shannath
He stopped himself panting...His fear\'s smell was almost touchable in the sewers, where he had taken shelter. He leaned on a wet and mouldy wall, looking around him: darkness and no noise, only the far dull of the City above him; the stink of urine and trash wrapped up his senses almost making him vomit. He should have been used to that stink by now, he should have indeed...Now that his breath was beating regularly again, he asked himself what the hell was that man who followed him and why was him alarming him so much: after all that man was only someone he had seen indistinctly at Kada-El\'s but it was the glance the man had done that alarmed him. And he didn\'t like that glance. Not at all... Having told something to the barman to free himself from that glance, he had gone out of the Tavern, going to the Big Tower, but then had realized that the man had been following him, hidden, so he changed street -Better don\'t go there-, if that guy had been a guard maybe he could have questions to ask. But that man didn\'t really look like a guard...
He put himself on the grime trying to look like one of the many drunk people of Hydlaa. Suddenly his head buzzed deafly but he didn\'t understand if because of the stink or something else, and he felt like a spike was running into his head with a stone... Then a noise almost made him have a heart attack and he saw a little shape running near him, squeaking desperately, and running away in the darkness of the sewers. He relaxed him, cursing at \"the God of All Rats\" but while he looked toward the direction where the rat had run away, an incredibly strong hand caught his hair and forced him to turn his head. Last thing he saw was those eyes shining in the darkness and then a wet and prick rip on his throat. Fighting was useless and he gave up to the pain as if it were a lullaby sang by a cruel mother, he clutched himself until his vitality faded. For ever...
He had been waiting for him. He had chosen him among many others and he had also chosen the time and moment when he would appear to him. Fear gave the blood much...taste...and he had learned to drink it as it were a glass of champagne, which taste he had forgotten ages ago. But was it as good as the wine? He remembered the words his Sire, the vampire who had made him, told him: \"when you are human, parents teach you not to play with food, but a vampire make the food as his pet, his toy\". His Sire...How much years had passed since he had last saw him? Why NOW that strange memory?? He dispelled that thought as a Vein does with an annoying fly and concentrated himself on that Ylian. He was a New Vein, his use was only to get food and then throw it away on His Hunting Territory and he liked to save His Own Herd from famine times. A heritage of ancient life: to save something. To save something?? He smiled to that thought: tomorrow night I will drink ALL my Herd!! The Ylian sat on the sewers; \"No, please, don\'t realx yourself\" he thought and took a rat, charming it: he broke its tail and threw the rat near that man. \"Perfect\". \"He feared himself\". While he came near that man he thought about that little Ylian and his wife killed and dismembered and then about her pieces let on the sewers for Gobble Hunger by him, his husband... He wondered with some bitter who, between them, was the real monster and with a hand took his hair...
