Delilah

They called her Delilah, and for a damn good reason too.

Sometimes, Delilah wonders how they feel; sometimes she wonders if they’re in pleasure or pain as the red life fluids slowly drain out of them. But she doesn’t let herself think that for long. They’re just food, and nothing more.

But it’s funny, because sometimes, Delilah thinks she used to be like them (heart pumping under fragile white skin and lungs working behind flimsy white ribs) before the cold and the blood and the pain.

And even now, when pretty Delilah looks around the deserted train station, she wonders a little if what they say is true. They call her a monster and a demon, and say she’s evil. But how are they better than her?

They think Delilah’s stupid, and that she’s nothing more than a pretty face, but Delilah knows. She knows about the metal sticks that spout fire, and about the round, heavy metal things that kill thousands of people when they explode and spread their poisons through the air. She knows. All about it.

The man next to her on the bench is dead (twin holes in his neck as neat as if they’d been drilled) but there’d be a lot more dead if it had been the food that killed him.

She smiles at the man, and pats his hand gently. He’d been easy to kill. Drunk, and easily lured in by a beautiful woman, he’d lingered sweetly in her arms for a moment before succumbing to death. Delilah doesn’t know his name, but she thinks she’ll call him Samson.

She calls all of them Samson- even the women- because it always happens the same way. The food’s always too blind to see the truth; she thinks they’ve been blinded by their metal sticks and their round heavy metal things they call bombs. They’re so occupied with hurting each other in loud ways, they never stop to think of how they can be hurt quietly. Hurt with love. And of course, if she’s a woman, and pretty, then she must be harmless.

With a soft sigh, Delilah embraces Samson to her cold chest, and whispers in his ear.

“I think I have to go, Samson. You don’t mind, do you?”

Delilah’s hungry again. She needs to find more food. A little is never enough to keep her going. Oddly enough, when the food write about her and her kind (which they do often) they often think she can survive on food once a month.

She smiles easily. Silly food. They can’t survive on that, and she has to move a lot faster and be a lot stronger than they are.

The train station is as deserted as ever. Delilah’s quite sure no one will find the man till morning.

Briefly, Delilah reapplies lipstick. Bright crimson. Just like food.

And giving one last glance at the dead man, she gets up to leave. Black heels click on the platform. If she’s a woman, and pretty, she must be harmless.

They don’t seem to realise that a pretty woman can be far more dangerous than a soldier.

They called her Delilah, and for a damn good reason too.

Soooo... am I being presumptuous to expect people to know who Delilah was?

Very Brief Explanation:

Delilah was a woman in the Bible who seduced one of God's people, Samson. He fell in love with her and she betrayed him to his enemies. As a result, he got killed. Obviously. Ladies and gentlemen, the world's first honey trap. It's somewhere in the Old Testament...

This was written quite quickly, but the idea jumped into my head and I had to write it. I'm actually making fun of myself in parts of it- I'm writing a vampire novel myself involving Delilah's kind that don't need to drink blood very often. I was gunna fit in a line about how it's silly for food to think Delilah's kind can be nice and good, when they're just predators, but it didn't quite work.

So...

Ridiculous? Interesting? Annoying? Fun?

Tell me what you think.

Or don't, I suppose.

But then I'll set Delilah on you.

xD, kidding, kidding...

She'd just eat me first anyway.

- Isilthrar