Words on Wednesday hosted by Lynn Sollitto can be found here.
Good Morning People,
This month’s Words on Wednesday prompt is Share your Writing. I’ll be sharing a WIP.
Dezirah Volume 3, Chapter 7. The excerpt you will be reading is from the beginning of the Chapter 7. It’s unedited from the final version that will be published because it is fresh. Just finished writing Chapter 7 on Sunday.
SPOILER WARNING! – Of course it contains spoilers. Lots and lots of spoilers. If you don’t like spoilers, then don’t read on. Just cover your eyes and exit.
Chapter 7 – Jaiden’s POV
Bodies, what’s left of them, are strewn about. Red brown blood, some dry and some sticky and wet, is spread everywhere. The flashlight shines highlights in what’s wet.
Long ago, I stopped caring where I stepped as the blood was unavoidable to my human capabilities and limitations. My shoes and pant legs have been sacrificed to the cause. The sleeves of my shirt pulled up to my elbows in an attempt to save my shirt from the inevitable shared fate of the garbage.
I scratch my palm to rid an itch from the dried liquid. The dried bits peel away with each rub, while the wet spreads further.
I can’t wait to shower.
Desensitized to all the blood, skin, and unimaginable horror, I enter the house for the hundredth time for one last look around and collection.
A solar generator provided enough electricity to continue to run the fridge, and a freezer in the basement. To our surprise and delight there was homemade ice cream in the freezer, flavoured with chocolate chips and mint extract. The mint breaks through fresh, but overpowering; they added too much to the mix. The chocolate chips are too large to melt in an instant on our tongues. Despite all of this, the ice cream is a welcome treat I look forward to devouring on the ride back.
It was discovered then, as we figured out the deafening hum of an old tuned out noise, that the lights worked. The true horror of the massacre more picturesque and detailed in the light, but not as creepy. I miss the expansive light as I navigate by flashlight.
All the food and gas were obvious easy picks from their designated areas. The solar generator attached surprisingly easy to the back of a commandeered truck, though a thread of doubt lingers that maybe it was too easy because we missed something. It would be horrible to lose the generator after going over a bump, because we missed a pin or something to hook it up.
Tricky, and nauseating, at first, was the scavenging for everything else. Weapons had to be unbelted from the dead bodies; none of them safe from the fluids of their owners. Some pockets held treasures like pocket knives and lighters. Other pockets held rocks, tissues, and personal knickknacks.
Pilfering drawers as bodies lay in their beds; oblivious to their danger as they slept, then died.
Whatever happened, it happened fast. Bodies lay where they died scattered throughout the house. No one had a chance to group and fight.
Not one person hiding in a closet hoping to not be noticed. Not one person made it outside, or close enough to the back door to unlock it.
The people who did this acted in monstrosity. The goal was clear, to kill everyone here; no doubt in that. A horde of supernaturals descended on these people.
Necks are torn open it what Leah expressed as the type of bite a vampire leaves when they aim to kill quickly; messy and wasteful.
Scratches and punctures of all sizes and numbers got most of the rest. A few still have a blade left inside them where it struck. I yanked out what I could. A couple blades stuck inside, stuck on bone and impossible for me to pull out without seesawing and disturbing the body’s internal organs. The couple blades were not worth the effort and body desecration.
I walk through to the bedrooms. Like a scanner I start from one side and work my way to the opposite side of the room, and carry this process on through the house.
The two bedrooms were picked clean personally: clothes, weapons, and some children’s books. Leah had gotten the bathroom: soaps, toiletries, and linen.
Linen closet provided more linen. The living room was turned into another bedroom; movies, and looted items from the bodies.
The image of Crystal pecking and slurping up the soft eyeball of the victim laying on the ground pops up as I see him again. An opportune meal from the man who had his face slashed open to the bone and further.
On and on I check list the upstairs, only obtaining a screwdriver I suppose could be useful. Right off from the kitchen I walk downstairs.
The basement area is both finished and unfinished; half and half. I want to finish with the ice cream, so I walk through to the far side.
A stuffed owl watches from its mount on the corner to a little hall; a grey great horned owl if I remember correctly. The eyes appear to follow me. The realistic bird is a sign of great taxidermy. I can’t help but feel it could jump out and attack me at any time.
To the left is a teen’s bedroom decorated in boyband posters and pink. Leah went through the rooms down this way, so I go through with extra diligence. This room is untouched from a carnage aspect. It’s a nice break, but it feels wrong to trudge through; like I’m desecrating a tomb.
Supplies from the previous people scatter through the room. Leah likely tossed the sleeping bags to their current crumpled positions. Drawers left open from her inspection.
Small shirts and pants will never fit me, but her closet holds shoes in my size. Most are heels, and therefore completely useless to me. A few are gaudy in size and colours. Flower patterned flats that look uncomfortable, and blister inducing; not to mention hideous.
There is a pair of black All Star shoes. They look like Converse but without the ankle edges coming up so high. I think these look better and more comfortable. I nab them as replacements for what I have on, and two pairs of socks. If the shoes fit, the socks should too. They’re black too. The colour is safe as safe can be from stains; namely blood stains.
The room is done. I won’t find anything else in here.
A closed and locked room is next. It has a hole in the center of the nob. The dismantled pen from the desk easily lets me in. I burst in for an element of surprise, but I don’t need it. No one is in the bathroom.
Maybe someone locked the door to keep people out of the contents. Leah wouldn’t have done that.
The bathroom is decorated like a beach. Seashells hang in picture frames on each side of the mirror. A seashell acts as the soap bar holder. Sandy walls and blue floors; I’ve never seen a blue tub and toilet before now.
On a whole, the bathroom is very neat and tidy. There is no cue that this room has been opened in the last few months; not counting a lack of dust.
Many of the drawers lack anything inside. It is behind three rolls of toilet paper that I find black bottles with reminiscent labelling of a popular sun block for vampires.
The bottles have some weight to them. The one feels full, while the other may be half empty. Both will be vital to the vampires back home and to Leah. This could open us up to being able to search during the day. No longer would they be restricted to the ever shortening night.
Summer is coming and with it the shortest night of the year. Imagine only being able to leave your house for six hours over a period of a few months. As a private person and a homebody I likely could, but the opposite spectrum of personalities may have issues with it.
My arms are nearly full after the bottles and toilet paper, so I cut my last sweep short. Finishing up requires the acquisition of the ice cream.
Straight ahead into the unfinished multiuse kids play room and storage, I grab the ice cream and balance it on top.
I trek back to the upstairs. Leah isn’t here, and is likely outside still. She’s probably waiting for me to get going; impatiently as she would be.
On the way out the house, above the door, is a message in blood. I pause to view it one last time. A reminder of the violence and purpose of the events that had taken place here.
A brutal message, as any would be written in blood, by the hands of someone looking for attention in the worst way possible.
FOR YOU – DARIUS