The Harvest
fantas_magoria has had some fantastic posts, don't you think? Here's my contribution for The Harvest.
Feedback? Yes please.
The Bouncer
Direct quotes from the transcript of The Harvest are included.
Hugs to Jo for the beta.
Summary: Did anyone give a damn about the poor slob at the door of the Bronze on the night of the Harvest?
He hated his job. Amend that. He hated his part time night job. He glared at the two young things presenting their ID. He let them through, ignoring their critical gazes and sneering giggles. Sure, he was big and ugly. What doorman worth a damn wasn’t? He preferred the term bouncer. A doorman brought to mind aged, semi-retired men opening doors of cars and ushering their occupants inside or out. Flexing his muscles, he put on a show for the two gangly youths wanting entrance to the club. Looking at their skinny arms and sunken chests, he smirked, waving them by. What was it with the youth of today? What happened to the brawny young men and voluptuous women of yesteryear? He wasn’t that old, was he? No, today was about the slender young men, androgynous, the word came to mind, with their elfin looks and moisturized faces. Just as well he could rely on the school jocks to even up the scales. One was before him now, his arm draped possessively about the shoulders of his blonde girlfriend, his toned and muscled body straining at his shirt and pants. He grunted his assent and let them go by. He could play the Neanderthal, grunt and sweat and look menacing like the best of them. No one expected him to be well read, articulate, thinking for himself. They looked at his body and saw what they wanted to see. A brute, a subhuman monster. They did not see a person putting food on the table for his family, working two jobs so that his children would one day get a college education. An education he had been unable to afford, for all his ability in the classroom.
He felt the next group approach. “Need ID.” And then he glanced up. “Hey! Nobody gets inside until I get some sorta…” He realised there was something wrong with their faces. One of the men growled in his face. He was yanked inside, the door bolted shut behind them.
One of the men killed the power, and the leader, a big, ugly brute, got up on stage. At first it appeared as if the man was trying to calm the teenagers down, but the kids finally got a good look at his face and began to scream. The bouncer tried to shake off the man holding him. The grip on his arm didn’t budge and he was surprised. The man holding him hadn’t half his bulk. He tried again when he was led out on stage. The leader, the ugly one, had very long teeth, and it was then that the bouncer knew he was facing a real monster, one that had crawled out from beneath the bed, from out of the sewer, or wherever such creatures lurk.
He screamed in terror as too-long incisors closed in on his neck. The fangs sliced into his flesh and he screamed again. As his heart slowed, pumping his life force into the monster above him, his last thoughts were of his wife and children, wondering how they were going to manage without him.
The End.