Well, what can I say? here it is, at long last and honestly, part of me didn’t think I was ready, I had doubts, part of me still thinks I’m not ready and another part of me says my whole life, my whole writing career has been building to this moment. Not to peak but to create something not too hot, not too cold, but just right.
And I think I’ve done it, as far the first chapter goes anyway. Had a few bumps in the road dayjob/personal life wise but I think it’s coming together really nicely. I feel almost like its above me, like it’s not even me writing it. Its strange, like I feel as if I’m the reader and someone else is writing it. So it’s a lot of fun to write, it’s like I have a rough idea of whats coming next but it’s taking a shape of it’s own each time I put fingers to key and I really like the shape and the characters coming out of it so far.
I started it almost like a Dexter fanfic but reading Dexter again it’s grown into it’s own thing entirely, similar but distinct. It has a similar feel but she’s a different animal, the tone is slightly different, some things I feel I do better, some things worse. But whatever it is, it feels right, for the time being.
There it is, as always link below and a short excerpt about a quarter of the full chapter below. You can see the full unedited chapter in the hyperlink.
My highheels tap on the wet concrete like anxious teeth clacking together as I walk. I’m walking, it’s dark, I’m alone and I’m scared. But not for me, it’s a good kind of scared. A fear of coming waves of something unexplainable, something inevitable. I’ve felt it building for so long and now as I walk the street alone in the dark I can feel it like it’s all around me.
I’m swimming through it’s want, wading through it’s need. It calls to me, it’s hunger passed down through what feel like eons. An insatiable hunger. Teeth straining against teeth, I taste blood and it feels good.
I hear a splash and it’s my feet hitting a puddle, I can feel it, feel it watching, feel it waiting, it’s hunger growing.
The moon reflected in the puddle, it’s smile so wide and manic. Those white teeth, sharp and ready, it’s just right, I can feel it on my back, filling me with that white pure light. Filling every corner, carrying me like I was on strings. My steps feel weightless and without agency, like I’m being carried by a wave of lustful righteous anger.
I feel his eyes on me before I hear his silent voice.
I hear a fluttering of dark angel wings. A leathery tightening inside as it whispers and laughs and tells me to keep going. Keep walking, keep making those sounds, keep licking those lips. Telling me to be patient when I know that’s not a word it understands at all.
He calls to me and I’m out of it for a second.
A man, I can’t see his face reflected in the dark store window.
I see myself, dressed in my best impression of a hooker from a nineties cop movie. The fishnets might have been a little too on the nose but it seemed to have worked.
I caught a big fish after all.
Just the one I wanted.
He calls to me again but I can’t respond now. My tongue is somewhere far removed and words seem pointless frail things.
Walking on and folding my arms like I’m cold, when I feel nothing but cool clear clarity and vicious joy. Walking faster now, I see in the puddles and the car windows he’s following. Looking around and following, how far will he go?
The shadow inside shifts and wriggles like a kid in a bean bag chair. So excited, hissing and tossing, just where it wants to be, laughing and waiting, so close.
He calls to me, something crude in Spanish but I can’t react, not yet, a little further.
My heels clicking louder and faster, I’m almost running now and what do dogs do when you run?
They chase of course, and predictably he’s caught the scent of something he likes.
I know him, his name escapes me for some reason and his face seems familiar but unimportant right now. No eyes, no nose, no mouth, just a blank pale face not unlike the face of the moon. Maybe I’m giving him too much credit. Who’s hunting whom after all?
I can feel his need, I’ve watched him for awhile. A small petty monster, a dog chasing cars, not sure what he wants until he gets his hands on them. A bottom feeder, a wanton monster with no attempt to hide it, no need. How free he must feel, not like me at all.
Something inside me calls out to him but he can’t hear it, he’s just along for the ride after all.
I’m walking faster but I’m not out of breath, it’s cold night and I feel brisk and tight. A quick check in another car window and I see he’s still following. Good, almost there now. One more block, follow me little rat.
The thing inside shifts like an eel in a glass vial. Happy and tensing and releasing like a balled fist, electric with terse excitement. An unfolding falling feeling of impending release on the horizon.
He’s still following, muttering to himself, looking around, he puts his hood up, he’s commited now. The streets are dark and damp and desolate, that’s why he picked this place, that’s why I picked it too. A perfect playground for Diana the dark dabbler.
I turn the corner fast down the alley I marked, breaking line of sight.
He makes some sort of noise in his throat that somehow I can hear.
I’ve kicked off my heels already and tossed them in the open dumpster.
The sound they make is all I want for now, that dull ringing sound to send the rats circling. I duck behind the spot I prepared. A pile of cardboard boxes is all I need, I’m a slim girl. The smell sends shivers up my spine. Old shell fish, the smell of the ocean, the spray, maggots, refreshing, like smelling salts.
He rounds the corner fast and confused, like he’s the only kid that doesn’t get the magic act at the birthday party.
I feel my lips parting, a curious smile, my heart beating, can he hear it? Can he hear the wings beating, can he hear the moons teeth clacking, feel it’s beaming maniac smile? I hope so. He will.
He looks around, pulls his hood down angered. All those chemicals rushing, he was feeling it too, the chase, the thing inside of him feeding on my fear. Getting high off that night air, stumbling into my trap.
I take my cellphone out of my purse and I phone the number of the burner I put in the dumpster. It rings with mocking eight-bit mariachi band music. He hears it straight away taking offence at everything.
Something about it stirs up that voice, that love of conflict, that hot rage against the cold canvas of the night. Dancing in that ambivalent moonlight.
It carries me, gives me a light feeling, goosebumps, goosebumps. Teeth chattering but I’m not cold, not even close, I feel nothing but pure icey potential.
He pokes open the dumpster with the barrel of a glock and he looks inside, I wait until he reaches in for the phone, he does.
I slip out of my hiding spot, feeling lithe and ready in a sliver of moonlight. I’m invisible, invincible, the stun gun in my hand as I move low and slow and sleek towards his back.
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