|Black Doesn't Stain
Author: LiberryBooked PM
Driving down the road late at night she picks up a hitchhiker. But who's the predator and who's the prey?Rated: Fiction T - English - Supernatural/Horror - Words: 725 - Reviews: 10 - Favs: 1 - Published: 05-17-07 - Status: Complete - id: 2363225
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Her pale, almost white thumb was like a signpost, contrasting starkly against the black night sky. She herself, looked like she had stepped out of a black and white photograph, her hair being a raven black, which matched well with her dark gown. The only part of her that was neither black nor white were her lips, which were a deep red. This odd combination, which would have looked unnatural on anyone else, had the opposite effect on her, so it was no wonder that the first car that stopped held a man.
"Where ya going?" the man yelled gruffly through an open window.
"Anywhere," she muttered gathering a mass of black cloth on the ground into her arms," anywhere but here."
She walked up to the rusty green truck door and paused, as though she was trying to decide whether to get in or not.
"What are ya waiting for?" he said shoving the door open for her, "Get in." She smiled gratefully, her pointed teeth poking out between her lips, as she slid onto the worn leather seat.
"So where are ya from?" he asked, his eyes sparkling hungrily. The woman just gestured toward the forest that she had come from.
"Not very talkative are we?" the unkempt old farmer mumbled in a tone that was almost inaudible to himself. She just glared, her pits of darkness sparking with anger.
"So how come you wear black?" he asked. " Did someone die or something?" She gave him an odd look; partly puzzled and partly surprised. But before she could say anything, a piercing wail filled the air. It was coming from the bundle of cloth. The inhuman scream continued as the woman began unraveling the cloth. One layer off, then another, and another, until finally the cloth was all off. There, beneath all of those layers, lay a scrawny baby boy, not a particularly beautiful baby, but a baby all the same.
"Ain't ya going ta shut it up?" he yelled, just loud enough that he could be heard over the baby's wail.
"He's hungry," she stated. The man looked at her expectantly, as though waiting for her to do something. She just sat there,looking right back at him with that piercing gaze of hers. With a sigh the farmer leaned over and wiggled his fingers in front of the child's face, doing his best to pacify the child. For a few seconds it seemed to be working; the little boy's sobs slowly quietened, and he began gazing intently at the fingers. The child watched them go back and forth. Then slowly the baby opened his jaw wide and slammed it shut on the largest of the man's fingers.
The man screamed, staring at what remained of his thumb in shock. The little boy began wailing again, spitting out the finger he had been gnawing on.
"Now look what you've done!" The lady shouted angrily. She shoved the finger back into the baby's mouth and began moving his jaw up and down, forcing him to chew it, the whole time oblivious to the man's endless screaming.
"Don't think I've forgotten you," she said, turning to the man. Her words were returned with a look of fear, his screaming silenced. He fumbled with the lock on his door, and had almost gotten the door open when the woman grabbed his arm. The woman's steel-like grip was near impossible to break so his constant struggling only made him weaker.
She gently brushed away the hair on his neck and dug her canines into the smooth delicate flesh. In seconds he stopped moving, unconscious. The woman drank hungrily, greedily, until she finally had her fill. She then pressed the child's lips against one of the two punctures that were oozing blood. The baby took two reluctant swallows and stopped.
She pressed the child against the cut, but to her vexation he would not drink anymore. Reluctantly rebundling up the baby, she turned to the door preparing to head out. On a second thought, she turned back around to look at the man, who was just awakening from unconsciousness.
"You wanted to know why I wear black?" The man groaned; a groan that the woman took for agreement.
"Because black doesn't stain."