Ficlet: What We Need
A/N : i wrote this a few weeks ago, and never really got around to posting it. Its nothing big, but its my type of story, and it has meanings behind it that probably only i can see, since i see it in my mind, but you can all make up you own minds about what its about.
Enjoy
charlie
Walking through the dark ally, my eyes glance to the side, running over the stoned wall.
No shadow, I am impressed, the man is good, but I know I am being followed -
I can still hear him.
Each and every small sound is picked up by my sensitive ears, each light breath he takes, and even, faintly, the slow beating of his heart.
But he is closer now, much closer.
Continuing on my way, I ponder the ways of need, a slight smirk crossing my face.
Sometimes we get what we want, and not what we need.
Sometimes we have to look for what we need.
And sometimes what we need comes to us.
Deep in my thought, I look up sharply as he collides with me, finding myself suddenly pinned against the wall, strong hands gripping an arm on either side of me, and holding me still.
For now.
Looking at the man, I could almost feel sorry for him, but that is for those who deserve sorrow to be used on them.
I look deep into the other eyes, and see nothing but cold hatred there, and a deep lust for what he has done, for what he would continue to do.
“Get off.” I whisper in a low voice, glaring at him as he merely snorts and tries to take a hard kiss from me.
Hissing, I shove him forward, sending him flying metres back, though I barely use my strength at all, not on a man like him.
Rising unsteadily to his feed, he moved back towards me, bright anger on his face.
“Your dead.” He growls, a glint of light catching on the knife he believes to be hidden by his side.
“How very observant of you.” I drawl, moving forward, my eyes darker and an almost smirk on my lips as I close in on him, hand darting out quickly to wrap around his neck.
“But then, Vampire usually are…”
His pulse is quicker now, eyes wide as he looks at me with a mixture of fear, and a look that says he thinks I am insane.
It is a pity for Him that he is wrong.
Tightening my grip, I smile fully at him, my sharp fangs vividly showing up against the darkness of my mouth.
Tilting my head I look seeringly through his eyes, seeing what lies in his heart, his soul, before I bring him closer, my teeth sinking deep into his throat.
His blood is warm, and flows willingly from the deep wound, his heart pumping it out faster than it could ever be produced, though it is slowing now, unable to pump for much longer as its life’s blood ebbs away into empty space, he draws a last, gasping breath, before falling silent.
Yes, sometimes what we need comes to us.
And sometimes we go to what we deserve.