The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!
by Naching T. Kassa
Faint moonlight worked a patchwork of light and shadow as it streamed between the trees. I moved over the forest floor, my feet silenced by pine needles. Mina was not as soundless as I. Leaves rustled and sighed in her wake.
I didn’t need sound to track her. The cool, night breeze carried the mingled scents of lavender, the lover we shared, and her blood.
As she led me through the maze of forest, my teeth grew long and sharp. The darkness grew brighter as instinct brought my nocturnal vision to bear. Soon my pale limbs and diaphanous gown transformed into mist. I floated after Mina, stopping only when she reached a small clearing.
Though corrupted by the blood of our lover, life still dwelled within Mina’s thin form. Why my lover had not yet turned her, I did not know. He was Master of the Night, right hand to the Prince of Darkness—not a slave to the softer passions. No chamber of his heart could contain an ounce of love for her.
He had warned me away from her. Said she belonged to him. What was it that made her special? Was it the blood?
I had to taste it.
My quarry had reached a clearing and here, she stopped. I secreted myself behind the trunk of an elm and from this vantage point, observed her. She stood with her back toward me.
Something screamed in the night air above us. I glanced up, my eyes catching a glint of silver among the treetops. Then, it vanished.
Assuming a corporeal form, I broke from the forest. My footsteps were those of a ghost as I crossed the clearing.
No human, not even a half-bred one, could’ve sensed my presence. Her warmth radiated, her blood surged. Another step and I would savor the sweet rush of it.
Before I could take the step, she bent backward. Her upturned eyes gazed into mine as she twisted.
Her lips parted at the sight of me. My mouth watered when I detected fear in her eyes.
She screamed, a strange high-pitched sound.
I looked up too late.
The falcon burst out of the trees and swept over Mina’s body. Silver-tipped talons gleamed. They slashed at my face. Flesh tore and cold blood dripped. The scream became my own.
I fell to the ground.
I’ve been on my hands and knees for hours now. The damned bird ripped out my nose and my eyes. They’re healing though. Mina’s scent is on the wind.
And, there’s a yellow glow in the sky.
Fiction © Copyright Naching T. Kassa
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
More from Naching T. Kassa:
It’s the Final Masquerade and it’s your turn to dance.
The evening is ending and the guests are ready to leave, but the final event of the evening is just beginning — the unmasking.
Welcome to Final Masquerade where no one is who they seem.
Stories written by Daniel I. Russell * Ken MacGregor * J.C. Delisle * Joshua Chaplinsky * Lori Safranek * D.S. Ullery * Samantha Lienhard * Thomas Kleaton * Josh Strnad * Naching T. Kassa * Roy C. Booth & Axel Kohagen * Sheldon Woodbury * Craig Steven * Gregory L. Norris * Jay Eales * Dale W. Glaser * R.K. Kombrinck * Jonathan Cromack * Brian C. Baer * Adrian Chamberlin