Writing Challenge - Day 8
To all who are reading this,
We are nearly a third of the way through the challenge! I hope you are enjoying it as much as I am! It's been a very busy Sunday here in the United Kingdom - I have been working on an upcoming cosplay, gardening, and had Sunday lunch with the family, which was nice. I also made friends with a nice guy in McDonalds because he had a Final Fantasy tattoo! How did you spend your Sunday?
Let's get on with the story, shall we?
Yours, with eternal ink,
Zoe
---
JUNE PROMPTS YOU TO... WRITING CHALLENGEDAY 8. - DRUNK
"Another one over here for me and my buddy!"
Oh Goddess, he was so clichéd. Where did these mortals get these lines? Obviously he spent too much time watching movies than actually speaking to women? His 'buddy'? It was laughable, but instead, I turned my grimace into a smile.
"Thanks ever so much, Colin."
"Ah, you're welcome, sweetheart. Anything for you."
Now he was calling me sweetheart. Was there no end in sight for this, for lack of a better word, loser? God, how I hated men. Once they had a drink inside of them, they all turned into big and pig headed dunderheads, who had one thing on the brain. He had already groped my leg several times, and just his hand on my jeans made me want to snap his wrist.
Instead, I had to smile, and reassure him that I was okay. It was all for the greater good. How else was I supposed to complete my mission.
Colin was a rather tragic figure, even for a mortal. He had thinning hair, pimples even in his thirties, and thick rimmed glasses. He had a geek themed t-shirt that was fading with one too many washes on thirty degrees, and his jeans had creases all over as if he had slept in them. He was hardly a looker, but hey, he had answered my call, as I had answered his.
All I needed was a little ol' mortal to satisfy me. All he needed was a woman. It would be the first, and the last time he had one.
"Have you been on many dates, Col?" I asked, using a nickname, and hoping he'd respond.
He slugged back a shot of clear liquid. "Honestly? No. I went on one before to the carnival, but things didn't go well. She felt sick after our first ride on the waltzers, and had to go home."
"Oh, what a shame. I love carnivals!" I did too. They were full of life and love. Places were secrets were concealed, and often revealed.
"Maybe I could take you, sometime?" He was growing braver with each glug of his lager, and several shot glasses were empty before him. I simply had red wine.
Red. The colour of lust. Love. Life.
"Maybe you should." I grinned, leaning forwards, letting my hand lightly touch his. I trailed my nails on him. I saw him swallow the empty air, and he hooked a figure into his shirt collar, as if he were struggling to breathe.
I had him on the ropes.
"You're... You're a very beautiful girl."
"And you're a sexy guy." My nails caught him again, a little harder than before. Blood welled, and yet he didn't notice.
"Can I... Can I kiss you?" he asked, licking his lower lip in anticipation.
"Only if you don't ask." I fluttered my lashes, leant in and placed my lips on his. He responded with as much urgency as he could muster, his lips flailing like fishes against mine, and it was then I realised something. He had never been kissed. He had never kissed someone. He was a virgin! Oh, it was my lucky day.
Blood bubbled beneath my skin, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. I needed this as much as he did, and I tried to control his movements, guiding him with my lips to make sure that his first and final kiss would be one to remember.
I urged his mouth open with my tongue, and I introduced French Kissing into the scenario. He shied away at first, but he threw himself into it with as much gusto as he could possibly manage. It was like a slug writhing around, and I carefully nipped him with my teeth, stopping him in his tracks. I tasted blood, and I savoured every taste. I could feel his breath sliding away, his alcohol tainted breath, and I knew his life force was stumbling this way and that. And by that, I mean into the realm of death.
I parted, tapping his face, before letting out an Oscar worthy scream. "Help! Help, something's happened to my date!" I let my arm drop from his, and his body shook, sliding from the barstool and slamming hard into the floor. I stepped back, holding my hands to my face, letting the fake tears come, and roll down my cheeks.
The bartender was trying his hardest to resuscitate him now, but there was nothing he could do. "Call an ambulance," he called, but I could tell him he was wasting time and effort. Colin was dead.
Nobody could survive the kiss of an incubus.
© Copyright - Zoe Adams (2014)
Currently reading: Piercing by Ryu Murakami
We are nearly a third of the way through the challenge! I hope you are enjoying it as much as I am! It's been a very busy Sunday here in the United Kingdom - I have been working on an upcoming cosplay, gardening, and had Sunday lunch with the family, which was nice. I also made friends with a nice guy in McDonalds because he had a Final Fantasy tattoo! How did you spend your Sunday?
Let's get on with the story, shall we?
Yours, with eternal ink,
Zoe
---
JUNE PROMPTS YOU TO... WRITING CHALLENGEDAY 8. - DRUNK
"Another one over here for me and my buddy!"
Oh Goddess, he was so clichéd. Where did these mortals get these lines? Obviously he spent too much time watching movies than actually speaking to women? His 'buddy'? It was laughable, but instead, I turned my grimace into a smile.
"Thanks ever so much, Colin."
"Ah, you're welcome, sweetheart. Anything for you."
Now he was calling me sweetheart. Was there no end in sight for this, for lack of a better word, loser? God, how I hated men. Once they had a drink inside of them, they all turned into big and pig headed dunderheads, who had one thing on the brain. He had already groped my leg several times, and just his hand on my jeans made me want to snap his wrist.
Instead, I had to smile, and reassure him that I was okay. It was all for the greater good. How else was I supposed to complete my mission.
Colin was a rather tragic figure, even for a mortal. He had thinning hair, pimples even in his thirties, and thick rimmed glasses. He had a geek themed t-shirt that was fading with one too many washes on thirty degrees, and his jeans had creases all over as if he had slept in them. He was hardly a looker, but hey, he had answered my call, as I had answered his.
All I needed was a little ol' mortal to satisfy me. All he needed was a woman. It would be the first, and the last time he had one.
"Have you been on many dates, Col?" I asked, using a nickname, and hoping he'd respond.
He slugged back a shot of clear liquid. "Honestly? No. I went on one before to the carnival, but things didn't go well. She felt sick after our first ride on the waltzers, and had to go home."
"Oh, what a shame. I love carnivals!" I did too. They were full of life and love. Places were secrets were concealed, and often revealed.
"Maybe I could take you, sometime?" He was growing braver with each glug of his lager, and several shot glasses were empty before him. I simply had red wine.
Red. The colour of lust. Love. Life.
"Maybe you should." I grinned, leaning forwards, letting my hand lightly touch his. I trailed my nails on him. I saw him swallow the empty air, and he hooked a figure into his shirt collar, as if he were struggling to breathe.
I had him on the ropes.
"You're... You're a very beautiful girl."
"And you're a sexy guy." My nails caught him again, a little harder than before. Blood welled, and yet he didn't notice.
"Can I... Can I kiss you?" he asked, licking his lower lip in anticipation.
"Only if you don't ask." I fluttered my lashes, leant in and placed my lips on his. He responded with as much urgency as he could muster, his lips flailing like fishes against mine, and it was then I realised something. He had never been kissed. He had never kissed someone. He was a virgin! Oh, it was my lucky day.
Blood bubbled beneath my skin, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. I needed this as much as he did, and I tried to control his movements, guiding him with my lips to make sure that his first and final kiss would be one to remember.
I urged his mouth open with my tongue, and I introduced French Kissing into the scenario. He shied away at first, but he threw himself into it with as much gusto as he could possibly manage. It was like a slug writhing around, and I carefully nipped him with my teeth, stopping him in his tracks. I tasted blood, and I savoured every taste. I could feel his breath sliding away, his alcohol tainted breath, and I knew his life force was stumbling this way and that. And by that, I mean into the realm of death.
I parted, tapping his face, before letting out an Oscar worthy scream. "Help! Help, something's happened to my date!" I let my arm drop from his, and his body shook, sliding from the barstool and slamming hard into the floor. I stepped back, holding my hands to my face, letting the fake tears come, and roll down my cheeks.
The bartender was trying his hardest to resuscitate him now, but there was nothing he could do. "Call an ambulance," he called, but I could tell him he was wasting time and effort. Colin was dead.
Nobody could survive the kiss of an incubus.
© Copyright - Zoe Adams (2014)
Currently reading: Piercing by Ryu Murakami
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