Categories > Original > Fantasy > The Dark Past of Elves
The next day as Fred took his seat in Biology he noticed something odd about the place. No – it wasn’t odd – precisely - just different - and not in the good way. He looked over to his lab partner that the teacher had assigned him. She was very pretty with long blonde hair and warm blue eyes. “Shall we get started?” He asked her.
“Yes – of course.” She answered him.
“Good. Well you get the scalpel and all that other crap and I’ll get the pig ready.” He told her. She nodded and left without question. Then, Fred looked at the pig. It was young – a foal that had not reached adulthood. They were dissecting it today in Biology for a school lab project.
“I’ve got everything.” She said coming back to their table.
“Good.” Fred said absentmindedly staring at the dead pig. “Do you feel bad for the pig?” He asked her suddenly.
“What.” She said giving a little laugh at the end.
“Do you ever feel bad for the pig – you know – died just so we could slice him open?”
“No.” She said snorting slightly.
“Of coarse not.” Fred mumbled. He knew her type. She was one of the popular ones. The ones that got the guys – were cheerleaders and beautiful.
“So – shall we get started?” She asked.
“Yeah.” Fred said as he grabbed the scalpel. “What do I do?”
“First you make a cut three inches below the heart.” She told him.
“Alright.” Fred said gulping as he moved the scalpel towards the pig. The moment he cut into the pig and its blood came pouring out Fred stiffened. His nostrils flared as he tried to determine the source of the pungent odor that was coming form somewhere in the room. It was like the richest of wine mixed with mull cider that had been left in a room for 50 years to mature. Fred knew that the aroma was coming from somewhere but he didn’t quite know what.
Slowly it dawned on his that his hands – which were covered in the pig’s blood smelled like this. He gulped. Did he like – blood? No that was insane. He couldn’t like blood. He couldn’t like blood. He couldn’t like blood. He couldn’t like blood. Became a mantra that he repeated to himself over and over again as he cut deeper into the pig. About thirty minutes into the lesson it became too much from him. Taking care not to breathe in he turned to his lab partner saying, “I need to get out of here.”
It might have been his sweaty face. It might have been his animalistic expression. Or it might have been because his eyes were blazing with ruby light but she nodded and said “Go.”
Fred nodded at her and ran out of the classroom at a sprint but not without yelling a “bathroom” back to the teacher on his way out.
*
Once in the bathroom Fred ran into the stall and, once bolting the door, threw up into the toilet seat. He shuddered leaning his head against the smooth bowl of the toilet. He took this opportunity to access what had happened.
I wanted to drink blood? This is bad – really bad. I’m not some kind of vampire – am I? Could I? How? And if so – then what do I do now. It might not have even been the blood. I could have smelt something from outside. That maybe it. Yes. I do not like blood. I was just smelling something from outside.
Once he had convinced himself that there was nothing wrong with him he got up – the immediate sense of equilibrium rushing through him. He took a moment to steady himself and – once he ascertained that he was ready – walked out of the bathroom to face the rest of his day.
“Yes – of course.” She answered him.
“Good. Well you get the scalpel and all that other crap and I’ll get the pig ready.” He told her. She nodded and left without question. Then, Fred looked at the pig. It was young – a foal that had not reached adulthood. They were dissecting it today in Biology for a school lab project.
“I’ve got everything.” She said coming back to their table.
“Good.” Fred said absentmindedly staring at the dead pig. “Do you feel bad for the pig?” He asked her suddenly.
“What.” She said giving a little laugh at the end.
“Do you ever feel bad for the pig – you know – died just so we could slice him open?”
“No.” She said snorting slightly.
“Of coarse not.” Fred mumbled. He knew her type. She was one of the popular ones. The ones that got the guys – were cheerleaders and beautiful.
“So – shall we get started?” She asked.
“Yeah.” Fred said as he grabbed the scalpel. “What do I do?”
“First you make a cut three inches below the heart.” She told him.
“Alright.” Fred said gulping as he moved the scalpel towards the pig. The moment he cut into the pig and its blood came pouring out Fred stiffened. His nostrils flared as he tried to determine the source of the pungent odor that was coming form somewhere in the room. It was like the richest of wine mixed with mull cider that had been left in a room for 50 years to mature. Fred knew that the aroma was coming from somewhere but he didn’t quite know what.
Slowly it dawned on his that his hands – which were covered in the pig’s blood smelled like this. He gulped. Did he like – blood? No that was insane. He couldn’t like blood. He couldn’t like blood. He couldn’t like blood. He couldn’t like blood. Became a mantra that he repeated to himself over and over again as he cut deeper into the pig. About thirty minutes into the lesson it became too much from him. Taking care not to breathe in he turned to his lab partner saying, “I need to get out of here.”
It might have been his sweaty face. It might have been his animalistic expression. Or it might have been because his eyes were blazing with ruby light but she nodded and said “Go.”
Fred nodded at her and ran out of the classroom at a sprint but not without yelling a “bathroom” back to the teacher on his way out.
*
Once in the bathroom Fred ran into the stall and, once bolting the door, threw up into the toilet seat. He shuddered leaning his head against the smooth bowl of the toilet. He took this opportunity to access what had happened.
I wanted to drink blood? This is bad – really bad. I’m not some kind of vampire – am I? Could I? How? And if so – then what do I do now. It might not have even been the blood. I could have smelt something from outside. That maybe it. Yes. I do not like blood. I was just smelling something from outside.
Once he had convinced himself that there was nothing wrong with him he got up – the immediate sense of equilibrium rushing through him. He took a moment to steady himself and – once he ascertained that he was ready – walked out of the bathroom to face the rest of his day.
Sign up to rate and review this story