FicWad

(C)CopyRight 2008

I opened my eyes staring into my dark room. It was the fifth day in the house and I was beginning to feel hunger take me strongly. The growling of my stomach was heard by Spencer a few rooms away; he was at my door in a matter of seconds. He seemed nervous around me all the time, my blood probably called to him asking him for a drink.

“I’m going to get you some food,” He said from behind the door.

I heard footsteps leading away from the door.

“Wait Spencer!” I called after him racing for my purse.
He opened the door slightly and peered in; I could feel his eyes gazing at my bare legs. Yanking a few twenties from my wallet I handed them to Spencer.

“Here,” I smiled.

Spencer shook his head.

“I insist,” I reached further.

“Don’t need it.”

“Why not,” my tone made his eyes grow to a rainforest of greens.

“My family made a lot of money from this town, I think a 200 dollar grocery bill is nothing,” He laughed again as my jaw dropped.

Spencer turned around, but then went back to me.

“I need you to stay in the house while I’m gone,” His eyes pleaded, “Pete can’t smell you if your inside, please?”

I looked down to the floor, and a silence took us by storm.

“Fine,” I muttered after a while.

He was gone in seconds and I stood in my room feeling utterly alone. For a moment the thought of running away and facing a possible death wasn’t too irrational. I went back to my bed and slid under the covers holding my head in my hands. Tears as hot as bath water drowned the humming of the silence I had been left in. My chest began to ache with every sob I drew and after a while I stopped crying all together.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I began to curse and threw the covers from me.

“My fucking publishers,” I cursed again.

I sat up and pulled myself to standing. As I walked across my room I could hear myself telling my legs to turn back, it wasn’t Nancy or Dale…it was me…

I opened the door of my room and walked to the end of the hall. It was dust out, maybe 10 pm. A bat flew by the window and some lights in the house flickered. I looked to my right feeling a cold draft. Going through the door of Spencer’s room, my whole sense lost itself.

I stood in his Victorian style master bedroom; everything dusty excluding the desk, that remained polished. I stood over what looked like a journal, beautiful writing scrawled in it.
Taking a seat at the table I took the huge journal in my hands and began to read.

July 5th Friday,
Today is the fifth day I have Emma in the house and I have to applaud myself for not killing her. A virgin is normally so succulent in smell and would have any Vampire such as myself falling for a bite. Yet I seem immune to her scent, as if I’m meant to live with her not prey on her.

Peter can smell her, very strongly…she was a good Canaanite for bait, I’m glad I was able to find her address as hard as it was since she’s an unlisted author who roams from place to place. I was even happier that she bought this run down house. Gives the town folk another story on this place, not the one so evil as before.

Emma has surprising ability to make me feel nervous and some other emotion I can’t name and I haven’t felt since I was turned. I caught my eyes seeping with Violet today, I think I should consult Marilyn about this…I’m not meant to be involved with humans but I can’t see anything but that with Emma.

I’m getting weaker these days. The amount of time between feeding is decreasing and I can’t have that. I can’t decide whether ask Brendon to come and watch her while I do feed or just bring her along. Decisions. Decisions.

Spencer James Smith V

I closed the book, and the creaking at the door made me jump. Spencer stood at the entrance of his chamber staring at me. I jumped to a standing position.

“I’m sorry,” I stuttered, “I just was…”

“Reading?” He smiled, “I suppose I would have to tell you about it some time.”

He took a step towards me and I swallowed loudly.

“So, you wanted me to buy your house?”

He held out his hand for mine, and I took it like Victorian woman. We walked into his kitchen and he dropped it, I immediately missed his hand. Spencer grabbed some spiced meat from a bag and threw it into a pan. It sizzled instantly and my mouth watered at the smell billowing into the air.

“I wanted somebody to buy this house, make it look like it was on the market somewhere in the world,” He chuckled, “I couldn’t exactly do it from here.”

I nodded and began to help chop vegetables.

“I’ve read some of your books, and after studying up on you I found that you were unmarried and single,” he saw my objection, “and with you being a writer I thought ‘hey at least she’ll own the house, she may not live here, but oh well.’ But you came to the house and my plans went from A to B.”

He came to my backside grabbing the knife from me; he placed it properly into my right hand and then ran his hands over mine. Spencer slowly showed me how to chop the peppers I had managed to massacre; you see why I write about Zombies.

“How did you know that I was a virgin, if you can’t even smell me?” my voice was so quiet as Spencer’s mouth brushed to my ear.

“It’s the way you walk,” he teased quietly.

I pushed my butt out, lashing at his crotch he held me their. All I could do was become dizzy with the smell of old cinnamon.

“You’ll see it once you’ve been deflowered,” his voice was raw, “the hips swing a little wider, there’s a fire in the eyes.”

I dropped my knife as he passed a hand over my abdomen, he smirked as I gasped.

“You’ll stop gasping at every little touch from your midsection,” he whispered, and then grabbed my arms holding my wrist to his ears, “your heart is beating so fast,” his voice was so raw, “still don’t believe its in the way you walk?”