BLOODY CHOICES By: Gabrielle A. Taylor

The full moon bathed the forest in a silver light as Travis found his way down a twisted path. He held his free hand in front of his face, shielding himself from branches that waved and snapped on either side. Doing so proved futile as blood dripped from fresh scratches inflicted upon his face and arms. He gripped the statue in his other hand and started to run.

He felt as if something was chasing him. He could almost feel its hot breath against the back of his neck. The path forked and he slowed down. He couldn’t remember the way back to the road. He chose left and picked up his pace. Travis turned around to catch a glimpse of his pursuer and tripped, falling flat on his face onto the hard, damp earth. It was cool against his cheek and the odor that filled his nostrils was the fetid stench of graveyard rot.

Moments later, Travis opened his eyes. The moon was hidden behind the clouds and he couldn’t see what had tripped him. He rubbed his forehead and his fingers came away wet and sticky from the a gash in his forehead. He felt around for his statue and found that it, too, was covered in blood and felt unusually warm for marble.

His eyes adjusted and the statue’s features became clear. Yeah, it’s worth it, he thought as he examined its intricately carved face and body. It stood about a foot tall and its naked marble flesh was bluish-white. Travis looked at its face, its lips were pulled back revealing sharp, hungry looking teeth. Its body was exquisite and masculine and its arms folded across its chest burial-style. The clouds moved on and the moonlight cast an eerie glow on the statue, giving it the illusion of living flesh.

Back home, Travis cleaned and polished his new treasure and set it on the shelf in his library. Occult archaeology certainly has its benefits, he thought. He looked around the room, admiring his large collection of books. There were many volumes on vampire lore, magic, alchemy and anything pertaining to the world of the un-dead. His statue looked at home among his many artifacts, most found on late night digs like the one tonight.

He had been looking for an ancient vampire grave when he found the statue. Now it sat on the shelf surrounded by urns and torture devices from Hungary, bones and powdered remains from Egypt, and a piece of a coffin found in New Orleans. He gazed at his statue and thought, this makes my collection complete.

Travis undressed and crawled into bed. The cool sheets soothed his tired body and he was desperate for sleep. He closed his eyes and the image of the statue took over. It stared at him with blazing eyes and a hungry smile. Its arms were now outstretched in an inviting gesture, it seemed to be beckoning him. Behind closed eyes, the statue’s marble surface became flesh, muscles twitching beneath pale, paper thin skin. Travis blinked, but the image was still there, and as inviting as the image was, he wanted it gone. Then came the voice.

"You know you want me," it said menacingly. "Come on Travis."

"Stop it!" Travis sat straight up in bed, there was no one there. The voice was coming from inside his head. Where else could it come from, he thought and laid back down, pulling the blanket over his head. Sure, he had admired the statue. Its features were handsome and he did have a certain affinity for vampires, but this was ridiculous.

"I want your blood. Bleed for me and make me whole."

He put his hands over his ears and tried to ignore what he was hearing. I’m fucking tripping, he thought.

"Not likely," the voice said and laughed a deep maniacal laugh. "I’m as real as you are. Just not as solid."

He couldn’t be answering his own thoughts, could he? I know I’m a little on the weird side, he thought, but no way am I insane.

The voice continued in his head, softly calling his name, like one calls to a lover. "Travis…Travis…" It became a whisper and eventually lulled him to sleep.

Sometime in the night, Travis awoke to the sound of someone whispering in his ear. He felt icy breath against his cheek and he opened his eyes. Before him was a translucent figure identical to the statue. It came closer and Travis was enveloped by that same graveyard stench as in the woods. Was this what was after me, he thought. Goosebumps erupted all over him and he pulled the blankets over his naked flesh.

The creature was next to him now. He could feel the light pressure of its diaphanous flesh against him. Travis stared at the figure before him. It aroused and terrified him at the same time. He looks so menacing, he thought, so evil, so hungry, so naked. A feeling was building within him, a feeling he hadn’t acknowledged in a long time.

"Who are you?"

"I am of darkness, of blood, of immortality." The figure shimmered, its features fading out of focus. "I need your blood. Please."

What’s going to happen if I let him feed off of me? I don’t really want to die, Travis thought.

A rush of energy slammed into Travis and knocked him on his back. The creature held him down and put his lips against Travis’ wrist and sucked deeply. Alive with power, the vampire bit into him and began to solidify. Little by little, Travis could feel the creature on top of him becoming more solid. The light pressure became firmer, the flesh becoming more tangible. Travis pushed the creature off of him and onto the floor.

"You can’t escape that easily." The vampire’s eyes blazed like hot coals, his temper flared beyond anger.

"You’re not getting my blood that easily," Travis replied, mocking the vampire.

"Oh, I think I can persuade you," the vampire said and smiled his perverse, hungry smile. His energy was fading and he was transparent once again. In the darkness, Travis couldn’t see where the creature went. It was like he just dissipated, leaving nothing behind but his foul stench.

Blood still flowed from Travis’ wrist and he put his mouth to the wound and tasted his blood. It left a metallic taste in his mouth and an ache in his balls. Blood and sex, why did the two always come together? And when blood and sex met, it was always followed by death. The vampire represented all of these, but in what order? His head was still dizzy from the loss of blood, the vampire had taken a lot from him, and sleep came quickly.

It was late afternoon by the time Travis got out of bed and there was no sign of the vampire. His body ached and smelled like he had slept with a ripe corpse. Revolting, he thought, and then shuddered as he remembered how the vampire’s newly solid flesh felt against his own. It was cool like dirt six feet down, cool like death, yet its breath was hot like the blood that ran through his own veins; the blood that flowed through him and made the thing solid. A shiver ran down his spine but he shook it off and went to shower.

As Travis dressed, he looked in the mirror. Lack of sleep made his eyes look more gray than blue, and his raven hair hung limply over his shoulders and down his back. He pushed a few loose strands out of his eyes and in the mirror’s reflection he saw the creature under his bed curled up and sleeping. For a moment, Travis felt an attraction to the creature; aroused by the thought of his chilly touch; was intrigued by the scent of old blood and rot. Yet he would take my life if I let him, he thought.

Papery flesh scraped against the floor as the vampire shifted. He’s going to be up soon, and he’s going to be hungry, Travis thought. He went into his library and sat down to wait. He looked at the statue and started to wish he never found it, beautiful as it was. Maybe if I break it, he’ll disappear.

"Hello Travis." The vampire stood in the doorway, smiling at him. "You know what I want."

"You still haven’t told me who you are."

"I am Necrotus," and he licked his lips as he approached Travis. "You mortals play such silly little games to save your insipid lives."

"Why don’t you go hunt someone else. Leave me alone."

"Because you found me, you released me, you are a part of me. I need your blood to become whole. Besides," he said with a wink, "Aren’t I what you’ve always wanted?"

Travis started to say no, he didn’t want him, but there was something deeper within himself, something that hungered and needed to be fed. And what happens if I feed it? Who am I more afraid of? Necrotus for what he wants of me or myself for wanting him. I finally have a real vampire in my house, and yet I cower like a frightened little boy.

"What happens if I submit?"

Necrotus raised an eyebrow. "Submit? I’ll tell you what. You bleed for me and I’ll give you more than you bargained for."

"That doesn’t answer my question. What are you going to do to me? Leave me for dead?"

Necrotus leaned over and whispered in Travis’ ear...

"You fucking pervert, get away from me." I can’t believe him, Travis thought. He was ashamed to admit he wanted to say yes, and he couldn’t help but wonder what Necrotus’ cold lips and warm tongue would feel going down on his member. He imagined what it would feel like to be penetrated by his rock hard, ice cold cock.

"I know what you’re thinking. But you have to bleed for me first. There will be plenty of time for that later."

He read my mind, Travis thought. What am I going to do? Kill him? Or give in? If I kill him, he thought, I’ll spend the rest of my life wondering what it would be like to be bitten, to be consumed by the creature of my darkest, most visceral desires.

"Come on Travis, you can’t resist and you know it." The vampire crouched in front of Travis and took his hands. "Isn’t immortality worth a few drops of blood?" The vampire was most alluring in his bloodlust, his plea most convincing.

"I don’t know," Travis said and got up. He stalked past Necrotus and into his bedroom. He slammed the door shut and lay face down on the bed. The door can’t keep him out for long, but it should be long enough for me to think without him trying to seduce me, he thought.

The sight of the vampire in solid form was rather pleasing and it had been a long time since he last had a lover. Girlfriends never lasted because he was too creepy or his moods too dark. One had even called him a necrophiliac. And men, they were far and few between. They aroused his passion in a way that women couldn’t, but relationships like that were always risky.

Necrotus scratched at the door. Travis remained on the bed with his face buried in his arms. What do I have to lose? I’ve always been fascinated by vampires, he thought, but his rational side took over. What if he’s lying? What if he kills me? Then what? The end of Travis Maynard, archaeologist and lover of the weird. But wouldn’t it be worth it? The hunger within him was screaming to be fed and now that it had been acknowledged it wasn’t going to be ignored.

The scratching grew louder, Necrotus was clawing at the door with the fervor of a hungry wolverine. Without hesitation, Travis got up and opened the door.

"My blood for immortality? Go ahead, take what you need and make me like you." Travis pulled his black turtleneck off and tipped his head back, offering his throat to Necrotus. The vampire entered the room and threw Travis against the wall.

"I knew you would make the right choice. Fear not what you are to become."

Travis could say nothing. His body was alive with a thousand tiny electric sparks as the vampire sniffed him. Necrotus ran his nails down Travis’ chest; flesh opened up an blood oozed to the surface. The vampire lowered his head and lapped at the thin streams of blood.

"There is nothing like the blood of a lover," Necrotus looked up at Travis, the vampire’s lips were stained with blood. He pulled Travis closer and pressed him to him, smearing himself with the man’s blood. "You taste so good," he said as he lowered his head to Travis’ tight stomach and then lower. "Your blood, its so hot and rich." Necrotus dipped his finger in Travis’ blood and held it to his lips so he could taste how delicious it was.

"It’s an acquired taste," Necrotus said as Travis gently licked his finger. "You’ll get used to it, even addicted to it." Necrotus walked over to the bed. "Come to me, while your blood is hot. Come to me and become what you truly desire."

Travis went to the vampire, his movements were hypnotic, like he was under a spell. His decision released him and he felt no shame as he approached Necrotus. He sat down on the bed and embraced death.

The vampire took hold of him and latched onto his throat. His teeth penetrated Travis’ soft, yielding flesh and he began to feed. Necrotus’ tongue darted in and out of the wound sending erotic sensations up and down Travis’ spine. It was agony and ecstasy all at once. His erection had become painful and he hungered for release. Blood, sex, and death, he thought, we meet again. He closed his eyes and gave in to all three.

Travis came at the moment of his death and Necrotus penetrated Travis’ still warm but dead body, restoring him with ancient fluids and feeding him his blood. Travis awoke to the delicious aroma of graveyard rot. Necrotus lay next to him, his body fully solid and iridescent in the pre-dawn darkness. Travis ran his hands over his own icy body. His nipples were like smooth pebbles against granite-like flesh. His skin was cold and hard in its post-mortem state. Necrotus had told him he would loosen up after a while; the joints and muscles would adjust.

Dawn had come and Travis curled up next to Necrotus’ sleeping body. He couldn’t help but wonder where they would spend eternity and whether they would spend it together. The pounding of the rain on the roof relaxed Travis to sleep. His last thoughts were those of a mind and soul at ease.

Gabrielle is a writer and artist in Charlestown, RI N

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