#AWalk
#BadReligion

I was going for a walk, I‘m back.

#music #hardcore #punk

m.youtube.com/watch?v=6v-A...

From #AWalk today, #WIPSnips, with 'Sorry' and someone is dealing with their new existence well, I think.

So clear it was, bright and shining beacon of heat and life...and all alone and I tried. Truly, I tried, to dive back into that hole and ignore the teeth—the fangs—growing longer in anticipation. Tried to force the legs back, not forward, to stop myself. But he pulsed so wet and hot and I was dry, so cold...so fast. Delicious. The scream, I mean. How it shivered through me when he looked my way. Panic and terror wide and sweet in his eyes. Sweeter in his skin. A neck, I aimed for his neck. As one would expect a thing like me to do but he was flailing and kicking and all of it was moist and soft against me. Useless to my strength. My hunger.  Less so my aim. I missed neck and took a shoulder in my teeth. Tore free and aimed again. An arm, yes. I bit into a bicep, one clenched in terror. Aching, my teeth stretched and stretched to break through thin fabric and thick skin. The screaming stopped when my teeth, my fangs, touched veins. Mm, and they stretched further. No longer aching but dripping as hot and sweet as the blood they craved. I would taste every curve, every branching path, digging toward a scared and throbbing heart. Precious roots they were, sponges soaking in his life and luring it beautifully to my tongue. Syrupy, the taste. Sweeter than any drink, any treat, and I shivered for every drop. As did he, moaning softly for my meal of him. All those tense muscles relaxing to offer me more and more... Of course it was blood, but not alone. So much flowed with it. I knew what he'd been there for, who he came to visit, why. Fought the gasp for his terror in seeing me, a pale horror charging from the shadows. His blood told me how my fangs felt inside him, how tight my grip was, how cold my skin through all my layers. When his fears of death were given voice and image, pouring into and spiking through my mind as a panicked clipshow, I knew it was wrong. I knew I was wrong.

#AWalk, which is planned to be a first person account of being turned into a vampire...and not knowing how to deal with that. There's a bit of comedy in it, because I can't help it, but the idea is primarily horror.

Every bump, every shove, the chill of sanitized air when my bag was opened. The warbled voices likely speaking of the how of me, the cause of my stiff, breathless body. None noticed my skin kept its give, cold though I’m certain it was, there was give to it. Maybe it takes time for a corpse to lose its elasticity, I didn’t know anything of the dead. Only that I was among them, whether my mind, my senses accepted it or not. Slow, the scalpel. Slow and sharp and sawed with as my skin refused to cut as smoothly as it should. But they managed to split me open, to shove strangely dry gloves inside me, shouting when my organs refused removal. Each tug was agony, fresh and sharp, but I had no voice to express it. No tears to shed, to prove myself some form of living. To beg them stop. Needles and hoses came next, the repeated tapping against my side suggesting a hammer involved...and the horrible suckling of what little remained in my veins. What refused to be stolen. Something worse was fed into them to compensate, to skirt the removal of my blood, something spat back out to the din of frustrated cries. My new body would not be altered. But it was hungry. Suckling, my veins. A horrid sensation, truly. They fed me without realizing, through a simple accident. A slip of the scalpel as they tried a new artery to shove their needle and hose. Electrifying, similar to what yet danced in my throat, their cut poured sweet syrup on my dry, stiff lips. I couldn’t move the tongue aching to taste it...and didn’t need to. It slid easily, called to tongue, to itching teeth. They screamed more as the blood, yes blood, seeped into me and every nick and cut and gash they created sealed itself up. Warm the taste, sweeter than any pastry, with just a hint of the iron one would expect. Warmer still the wounds closing, knitting to keep my body unaltered.

Sharing a snip of a #wip, a #horror thing about being bitten and dying and becoming something else but not having anyone around to teach you what that means.
#AWalk is the tentative title.

When sunlight dripped into my hiding space, I considered the animals more seriously. It didn’t burn. I expected it to, of course, one grows accustomed to pop culture and so much says it should have. But it didn’t. Instead it was teeth in my veins, sharper than my own, hungrier than my own. What little remained in me threatened to dry up in the light and my hunger did not whisper but growl. Deep, guttural it growled with my throat and I became afraid of what would become of me were it allowed more control. Would it run me to a pulse as it did before? How many would it tear open, how many lives would it devour? In the quiet of my corner I could calm, could breathe with stolen breath and focus on every pulse around me. Animals tended to have faster heartbeats...and I focused on them. Whispering to the rats clawing and skittering about beneath the dumpsters. Not any near me, all those fled when I entered the alley, these were blocks away and I heard them. As they heard me. It took a few minutes for them to reach me, but so many did. A little swarm of five or six stiffly shuffled right up to my feet and sat, twitching and waiting, with terrified eyes and panicked tails. “I’m sorry,” I told them, stalling for my voice. Rasped from sobs, from the dirt, the retching all of it. It didn’t matter. It was wrong and I swallowed too hard before grabbing the first rat. Greasy thing, its blood a sip to what gnawed at me...but its memories. It saw so much, held so much, and I held it as close when it jerked its last. Another rat, and another, and I was full enough to stand. To pick fur from my teeth, lay each sacrifice in the trash, and leave the alley. Face the sun, still too bright to my eyes as it burned. With all their memories popping in my skull I even knew where I was, precisely where, and had a lovely map in my mind to follow. Useful things, rats. If not terribly filling.

Sharing this thing what is over 3k words now and clearly wishes to be written. It is meant to be a horror thing wherein a man becomes a vampire with no guidance on how to be that.
#vampire #AWalk

#лес #forest #осень #autumn #shotoniphone #снятонаiphone #прогулка #awalk #sun #trees #nature

Skank Religion - Vou Andar
Skank - Vou Deixar X Bad Religion - A Walk
#mashup #remix #skank #badreligion #awalk #voudeixar #musica #meme