Trinkets Of Conviction

Trinkets Of Conviction

           The smell of blood stung his nose, with a daggering scent following afterwards. He knew what it was, from only miles away. He drew his long, narrow cape over what was left of his body, his face left motionless. The thirst. He thought. His thirst level was incrediculously draining. Never fully satisfied. He tilted his head at the small fragment of movement he had spotted through the trees.

         A sour cry escaped the dimminutive opening in the bushes that hid the unknown, to the tangible cries. The man was more than human, but inhumane. "Come out, child." He tuned his voice to a more trusting, velvety lullaby. He knew for a fact, that every being, (even the unknown) had a soft side. A new cry filled the air. Different, yet simillar, to the previous, displayed only seconds before.

       The cries morphed to a terrible whimper. As the man grew inaudibly closer to the area of the yelps, there was a new rustling in the air. "I won't hurt you." The man was stunned. He was unaware of how trustworthy he had truly sounded. So beautiful, it was sour and rotten. A pebble of rock shot from the opening, to his suprise. He gaped in terror, once again, stunned. The man wasn't scared.. Never, could he be.. As he crept forward, a tree blotted out the opening where the noises had taken place.

      "Promise?" A small childlike voice was trembing. Her face peered out from the willowing shrubs. Her dark locks and curls fell beautifully onto her shoulders. Her soft hazel eyes finally met his. Black.

      "I will not hurt you." The man replied, his voice was hoarse. He was very unaware of his trembling arms, as he hungered for her blood.

      She smiled, a brilliant smile. She appeared at the age of ten. A truly, miraculous child.

      The thirst! His entire body ached, in both, pain and desire. He knew that that small child had exactly what he needed. "I... will not... hurt you..." He took a very cautious step towards her, offering his strong, uncontrollable hand. He was at war with himself as he had done this.

        He then, realized that he could hold himself back no longer. Oh, how he wished it wouldn't have to end this way.

        "Ouch!" She peered down at her right calve, then at him with wondering eyes.

        He stared down blankly, noticing the beautiful child had scraped her leg on the rosebush beside her. His eyes glued onto the small line of blood that trickled down her leg. It was heroine, to him. "I know what you are," She sucked in a deep breath, already accepting her fate. "My father was once like you..."

 

Reviews

[Tom Rekow]

This is a very good story, and if you made it longer it would be a beautiful story :D

[Jules]

Hi OMG intriguing her father was like him thats spooky i wan to know more :D

[Jim McDonald]

Reads like you have the beginings of a wonderful story. i too support you in going further. Several of your transition sentences are fantastic and allow the story to really flow. my only other suggestion - just let the story flow and the words come - no need to find certain words, they will come. look at your bio, that reads as if you let it flow. really nice writing, thank you for sharing it.

[Marlena]

I like this, you have a few grammar errors in here, but other than that I think this could make a really nice story, you should definitely expand on this idea though. Very cool, I really enjoyed this ^^