Lachlan is a serial killer character from my story ‘Sacrificial Loyalty.’ He has a great love for another character, Melvin. This short, vampiric story is Halloween special that showcases what Lachlan’s love would be for Melvin if he was in the world of vampires.
Claws. Black claws scraping against a brown brick wall.
Hair. Short, black, greasy hair shining against sickly pale skin.
Teeth. Sharp yellow fangs, stained with dried blood.
Doc Martens, black and damaged, thumping against the soaked concrete ground, echoing into the pitch black sky.
He could not wait to sink his fangs into the flesh of his true love.
But everybody just kept getting in his way.
Churches, the temples of God, towered over the town’s civilization in gothic silhouettes, creepy to most but inviting to those who required refuge, whether it be Christians devoted to their Lord or vampires hiding away from humankind.
If the two encountered each other, they both met with a lucky fate. One finally had the chance to visit their heavenly sanctuary, the other finally had the chance to feast.
Warm-blooded beings went about their nightly business, rushing home from work, smiling at passerbys, sheltering their faces from the lashing October rain.
Hiding in the shadows of a wall, he waited, like an impatient lion.
On the rooftops opposite him stood another vampire, just as impatient if not more than Lachlan. Sharp claws pulsing like when a cat curls its paws. But he was no gentle creature.
Growling, he dived from his position onto a human vessel below. A woman’s yelp rang out and a few heads turned at the noise for a small moment before those same people carried on, uncaring and unknowing, ignorant.
The noise only made Lachlan hungrier and much more restless. A dangerous agitation that you would not want to be on the other end of.
But unfortunately a man was and had no way of knowing that Lachlan had his dark brown eyes set on him, and with a lunge, Lachlan striked the man. His claws dug deep into the soft flesh of the man’s back as fangs clenched over neck veins. The starving vampire began draining the man of his life, his dignity and his fear, and it tasted amazing. However as Lachlan tore his fangs away and threw the almost-lifeless body to the rough ground, he knew that despite his first meal being flavoursome, that was only a starter. His next meal was going to be much more delectable.
He knew exactly where to go next.
A warmly lit-bakery invited cold and wet mortals inside with the smell of promised delicacies of cakes and cookies and other comforting foods.
A young man with short blond hair and beautiful blue eyes nestled near the door, benefitting from the warmth coming from the small building. In his hands was a hot chocolate in a blue takeaway cup and his hands were grateful for the heat.
Eyes stared at him from afar and then from a short distance away as the deprived vampire creeped his way up to his main course.
The 21-year-old, unknowing of his stalker, breathed in the autumn air and the smell of the rain as he closed his eyes. Peace.
Temporary peace.
In a second, he was ripped from his position and shoved up against a wall behind the bakery at the speed of light. His eyes filled with fear as his head shot around in all directions, confused.
Then he saw him.
Black claws as long as an eagle’s talons, black greasy hair against sickly pale skin, blood-stained razor-sharp teeth, a cold, lifeless body adorned in a long black trenchcoat, black jeans and black, damaged Doc Martens, drenched in raindrops and blood.
In a blink, he was no longer just seeing him.
He was feeling him. It. The famished creature.
Feeling his neck flesh being chewed like a dog gnawing on a bone, aggressive but with an excitement to it.
He opened his mouth to let out a scream but could only muster a groan as his body became weak. His mind converted into numbness and his vision now hazy as the pain of a thousand needles stabbed into his veins, his blood clearing from his every organ, his every artery, his adrenaline turning the warm, red liquid into an exquisite supper for the euphoric vampire.
But just when he felt on the verge of death, his senses heightened once more as a black sludge-like fluid pulsed into his wound from the vampire’s mouth, taking over his every organ and contorting them, rotting them away like withering flowers.
It was over.
He was no longer on the verge of death. He was already dead.
With claws and fangs, a thirst for blood and an eternity with his greatest admirer, Lachlan.