The Black Walker

Week One

         The juicy thick taste as the blood dribbles down my throat.  Blood is my anodyne.  My ear twitches some one is coming.  I take the guy and straighten him up in his chair, pull the chair to the desk and folding his arms on top of his desk.  I sulk over to the book shelf I stand beside it between that and the hinges of the door.  I listen I hear someone coming.  By the sound of it, it sounds like a woman.  I wait my mouth watering from the lingering taste of blood.  Another step I can hear the padding of her feet as she moves down the hall way.  She reaches the handle, the creaking of the mechanics of the rubbing metal as the handle turns and she opens the door.  She takes a few steps in and she gasps, I have limited time her heart beats faster as I react I thrust the door closed.  It hits her and she is thrown against the wall.  I listen, I hear her heart beat, she is not dead.  I slowly creep over reach down and pull her up by the head.  Holding the top of her head and chin I sharply twist, I hear the crick of her neck, she goes limp.  I drag her over and sit her against the book shelf.  I look back at the man at the desk I see my flaw his neck had rolled to the side and his sanguinary body in general.  I turn to the door leave the room and bend the door handle so that it is incapable to be opened.  I walk down the hall.  This is such a perfunctory task.  I think about the other vampires, who called me a misanthrope.  They are probably right.  I enter a door leading to the stairs.  I start going up the stairs.  When I get to the top I try to go through the door leading to the roof, it is locked.  I force it open.  Leaping from the roof top to the roof top of the building next to it, I land and walk over to the door.  I kick it open resulting in a scream of twisting metal against metal.  I cover my o-so-sensitive ears.  The sound stops I jump down the stair well and fly down floor after floor.  I reach out my hands grabbing on to the rail kicking my legs against the steps I fly up and over the railing.  I go to the emergency exit and destroy the alarm.  I push open the door leading to the ally; I find a man hole and take off the cover.  The bolts prove to be nugatory and I thrust it open jump in side and run into the darkness.

                                                            My sobriquet,                              
                                                                    The Black Walker


Week Two

         I turn down a quiet little street.  Find a little Victorian house with its blinds closed.  I find my way into the backyard.  There is a car in the driveway and lights on in the house.  I cut a hole in the glass with my finger nails and knock the glass in, catch it in mid-fall and gently lower it as far as I can before I drop it, it lands with a thud.  I unlock the door and let my self in.  The guy must have heard the glass drop because I found my self face to face with an old man (by human standards) with gray receding hair and everything.  He is carrying a baseball bat.  I casually take off my sunglasses.  “Isn’t it quite a while since you swung a baseball bat,” I say calmly and smoothly gesturing to the bat.  “I wouldn’t want you to break anything.”  I reach out and grab the bat.  He swings the bat wildly but I hold firm.  He lets go of the bat.  I (being the only one holding it) drop it to the ground.  He runs down the hallway necking it to the kitchen.  I walk slowly watching his every move.  He picks up the phone I could care less because I already cut his phone line.  He fumbles through the refrigerator.  He takes out a bulb of garlic.  I laugh to my self and give him a convincing fangs bared hiss.  He is so scared that he throws the whole bulb at me.  I can hardly stifle a laugh, but not once does a smile cross my face.  As the garlic flies by my head I catch a whiff. It makes me cringe; my supersensitive nose sends a sharp signal to my brain, causing me to stop, but only for a moment.  I resume walking this time twice the pace as before.  He gets a knife.  “What no stake?” I question jokingly in my coarse voice.  Catching me off guard (which is rare) he runs at me stabbing the blade directly into my heart.  I will live because my blood is circulated by skeletal muscles.  Thoroughly pissed I pull out the blade and slash it across his cheek, and in the same motion throw the knife into the wall, where it sticks.  I knock him to the ground, his head hits and whiplashes forward.  I rub spit into my wound, moist slimy mixture; I feel it start to tingle as it heals the wound.  I turn back to the man he is still alive, I bend down and pick him up by the neck about a foot or two off the ground and slam him to the ground.  Again I pick him up and slam him down, each time his head hitting the ground with my super human strength.  Each time his breath expels along with blood from his mouth and his nose.    My mouth already is watering heartily.  I keep slamming him to the ground, each time his head whiplashes dangerously.  Finally he is dead.  I lick the blood his once convulsing head.  My thirst needing to be feed, I stick my fangs into his already bloody neck.  I drink...

                                                            My sobriquet,                              
                                                                    The Black Walker


Week Three

A car horn honks and brakes squeal as I turn my head I get swept off my feet by the cars bumper.  Time seems to slow down as shoulder breaks through the glass, splinters piercing my skin ripping at my flesh I am forced to a stop as I hit the seats.  The diver unconscious by the force of the air bag; I climb out of the car walk over to a ten foot tall brick wall.  I jump clear over and to the other side into thick underbrush of weeds; I stand up and run over to an abandoned factory that happened to be hidden within the walls I just recently jumped.  I run over to the factory and climb inside through an old broken window and peer down into the inner workings it looks like an assembly line for toys a long time ago.  I hear whispering so I swiftly jump down a level not making a sound as I land.  I can hear their voices clearly now.
“How many vampires do you think there is in this city?”  Says one guy with a soft squeaky voice, and an unsure tone.
“They are vampire hunters,” I say to my self.
“I don’t know with two or three killings a week there are probably two or three.”  Says another with a dark, gloomy and scruffy voice.
“Can we handle that many?” Says the unsure one.
“As long as we kill one of them at a time and not the other way around, Kyle get over it you will be fine OK,” says the dark one.
“OK, Joe I am fine so what weapons are we going to use?”  Questions Kyle.
“Stakes,” starts Joe, I laugh to my self, “along with semi-autos, RPG’s, grenades, and tripwire bombs.”
“These guys are dangerous to them self’s, other vampires, and pedestrians.”  I think to my self I turn around and see a large crate I lift it up with ease and throw it down on top of them.  Unfortunately they heard it being picked up saw it coming and dived out of the way they started firing at me.  I ran down a hall way and made my escape.

                                                            My sobriquet,                              
                                                                    The Black Walker