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Nocturnal Metamorphosis
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Subject: "Nocturnal Metamorphosis" -finger lickin good story (fwd)
First off credits:
writer: Wiz.V aka Vadim Polonsky
editors: Wiz.V and Eugene GR
thankx also to Krolik aka Gary M for telling all his friends (me
included) about his conquests (sexual) so that I, on an unconscious level of
course, used it in this short story.
Also, I think that it is worth mentioning that this short story is the
first part of a (hopefully) big project. Part two is currently in the works.
Now here comes the advisory: this very short story contains
explicit sexual content. A ton of violence. A bunch of gory murders
(actually there are pretty much only murders and no real violence). A
generous helping of heresy and desecration of Looord Jesus, as well as a
bunch of other shit. Oh, and don't forget the language. If you have a
problem with seeing word FUCK too often, well then don't read the fucking
story.
All and any comments and critiques will be appreciated. send them to:
[email protected] Thanx
NOCTURNAL METAHMORPHOSIS
1:42 A.M. Tuesday, April 18th.
The rain had been coming down hard for the past half-an-hour.
Weather prognosis also called for thunderstorms throughout the region.
Nothing unusual for that time of the year.
Trees surrounded the one-story houses which were dominant in this
middle class neighborhood. Everyone was asleep. The whole town still has
not come out of its hibernating cycle, present during every single
winter since '89.
All was enveloped in total darkness. A firefly that was trailing up
the living-room window of a house that looked no different from the ones
on either side of it (with a small exception of a spotted cow mailbox
complete with a tail and a mooing sound whenever any mail was deposited)
could be seen miles away.
A car lazily pulled into the driveway. Within two minutes the
explorer - firefly - which was still making its way to the top of "mount
window" was transformed into every household's number one enemy - a
fucking cockroach, as the lights in the living room went on
unexpectedly. Because after all, what was a firefly?? A firefly was a
cockroach with a light bulb up its ass, as the kids used to refer it.
"Right on time," breathed out the male voice, as the hands jolted
for the remote control. "T-2, baby!"
"You're not serious Mickey, are you actually gonna watch that dumb
movie again?" Shot back Valerie, with a touch of anger and
disappointment in her voice, as they both moved toward the Lazy Boy
couch.
Mickey, twenty-two, blue-eyed, and a preppie from head to toe only
wanted two things to top of a wonderful evening. They spent the whole
night out on town: walking in the moonlight, talking, all that
romantic shit. Now was the time for some entertainment. And tonight's
program was:
Watch T-2 and screw
Watch T-2 and screw
All I want to do
Is watch T-2 and screw... Valerie.
Valerie, nineteen, brunette, sophomore at George Washington
University, and a cheerleader for the Washington Armadillos (the worst
NCAA basketball team in the state) had two things on her mind as well.
The whole night did not turn out as expected: Mickey never wants to do
anything that she does, and even when he does he makes a big deal out of
it. Still, Valerie was not angry with him; Mickey, her boyfriend of
three weeks, she had to admit, was good at a couple of things. So the
program for the rest of the night according to Valerie Bonner consisted
of those two things:
Screw Mickey
Screw Mickey
Screw Mickey...
But what's the second thing???
"But I've only seen Terminator 2 twice, Vaaaal!"
"Well, you've only fucked me once, Mickeeeyyyy!" sarcastically
fired back Valerie as her hand quickly dodged between his thighs.
"Can't we do both Valerie???" he continued to whine disappointingly.
"It's either me or him," she said pulling her hand away from his
genitalia, and made a fake motion for the door. And as if to answer her
prayers, the what would be the second to the last bolt of lightning for
the night struck the two-thousand-dollar satellite dish resting in the
middle of Wassermann's back yard. The chain reaction that followed blew
out the power in the whole block of 2600 W. Fourteenth Street.
"Well, looks like Arnold left the building just in time," thought
Valerie out loud. Mickey, realizing that something was better than
nothing at all quickly proceeded with removing her blue Levi's,
following with the underwear, and went to work.
"And the veil of darkness descends over all...."
"Ohh, Mickey was that you?" Quickly asked Valerie, because she had
already began lubricating and knew full well that in a few moments she
would get too excited to ask anything coherently.
"Yes!! Stop asking me questions."
"Oh, its just that when you whispered something just now, I could
swear it was coming from across the room."
"Valerie, I didn't whisper jack shit!" sharply snapped the
irritated lover. "I was too busy massaging your vagina to whisper; I
didn't whisper anything! I didn't hear anything! And if you don't mind
I'd like to continue with the program." All the sarcasm said and done
with, Mickey returned to the main course.
"Mickey get the fuck off of me!!" She snapped and tried to pull up
from under his weight. "I think there is someone in the room with us."
"You are so correct in that observation my foolish child."
Silence. The golden silence covered the room. Valerie with her legs
spread so far apart that a little dune buggy could fit in between, and
Mickey the "terminator" with his head deep down in the jungle, those few
words froze the passage of time as fear set into the lovebirds' hearts.
"Pardon me, for I don't mean to intrude upon your love making, but
would you happen to have some Grey Puppon?" Continued the strange voice,
breaking into a sort of maniacal laughter at the end.
"Hey man, this is no 7-11. You're in my fucking house! So get the
hell out of here before I call the cops!!"
Already standing up, Mickey, although still scared shitless, gained
some control over himself, thanks to a great contribution from his golf
club (a nine-iron) which was "suffocating" from the death grip of his
right hand, while his left was fishing out Val's hairs from his mouth.
Val, too, managed to scramble to her trembling feet, but the only thing
she managed to throw into the conversation, as she hastily zipped up her
jeans, was:
"Whoever you are, please... please just leave us alone... I'm
begging you."
"Beggars can't be choosers my dear. I'm afraid I can't leave just
yet. Well, don't you wish to know who I am? Oh, I'll tell you anyway....
I am the master of the undead.... I am the lord of darkness.... I am
life after death.... I am... I am what you simple beings would call a
vampire," finished the stranger and brought something out from under his
cloak.
"No man," cut in Mickey "you are what we call a nutcase. I tell you
what, since I don't have a fucking stake to run through your heart, and
it seems that you really wanna stay and be our friend, I'll just have to
use this!" The club swung backward ready to strike (Mickey going for the
whole-in-one hoping to put a little dent in the man's skull), but never
reached its destination. In the next second Valerie felt a rush of hot
air slam into her beautiful, innocent face as something passed by it
just inches away, and that in turn was followed by a loud crash.
Silence again.
"Mickey!? What did you do to him? Mickey answer me, are you okay?
Mickey?" Feeling her way around the floor she finally stumbled across
his face with her numbing fingers. "What did you do to him I asked you!?
Mickey talk to me!" Her hands taking hold of her lover's head, gently
caressing his ears, veins making their dramatic entrance on her arms,
preparing for a heavy lift, her mind no longer present, and... there was
no burden of Mickey's upper body weight on her arms; Mickey's unattached
head came up freely, leaving tiny puddles of blood on the Dupont stain-
resistant carpet. As she lifted his head closer to her face, still not
realizing what had happened, the final bolt of lightning struck. It
illuminated the room with a sharp, white light for an instant, and she
saw. Now, under usual circumstances Valerie would have screamed her head
off, but this time no sound managed to escape her lungs. The swing that
parted Mickey with his essential body part just moments ago, now
decapitated Valerie, her fear-stricken face on a nicely, round-shaped
head rolling under the coffee table.
"There is no fool like a living fool. My children, you shall serve
your master faithfully yet. Ha! Ha! Ha! Now I shall drink from your new
lives." As the last words exited his throat, the stranger knelt before
a fresh puddle of blood, Valerie's blood, opened his ghastly mouth and
began slurping up the warm liquid.
============
The power was suddenly restored. Lights lit up the house. On the
television screen, Arnold was submerging himself into the pit of lava,
as a surprised scream blasted through the silent night. The fear of
being seen, of being discovered, the fear of unexpected - light, the
scream of terror left the vampire's throat, as he scrambled to his knees
and toward the wall with the light switch. The black cloak covering his
back moved like the tides in the sea; his long black hair came down over
his shoulders. His face, originally white as death was concealed by a
thick crust of drying up blood. His green, sinister eyes were still,
never blinking, never leaving the point of destination, and his two
fangs shown through his sealed lips which were also covered with dark-
red liquid. In two strides he crossed the room, flicked the switch,
pulled the plug on Schwarzenegger, and darkness descended upon him once
again. He took in a short breath, a breath of relieve, wiped his mouth
on the sleeve, and returned to his duties.
==============
7:13 AM. TUESDAY
The sun slowly made its way up the horizon; the rain ceased; the
clouds dispersed; it would have been a commencement of a beautiful day,
if not for the huge police swarming around the Wassermann's house. The
blue jackets had their hands full. Some were warding off the area;
others were combating the hordes of reporters, whose monotonous
questions were sounding more like a disturbed bee hive rather than
discernible speech.
"How many dead?" "How were they murdered?" "Who will be handling
the case?" "Is there a murder weapon?" And on, and on, and on.
A 92 Corolla pulled up behind a row of squad cars. Two people
ca out of the car. A man, exited from the passenger side and
quickly disappeared into the adjacent house. The driver, a woman in her late
twenties, headed straight for the crowd of reporters, with determination
to break through and calm them down written all over her tired face.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please calm down. We, ourselves, have only
arrived at the scene less than half-an-hour ago. If you need to know the
details, please go to the station; a statement will be made to you as
soon as we gather up some information. Your questions will not, I
repeat, will not be answered here." With that the woman turned away from
the unsatisfied group and headed for the house. "Destiny awaits; here
comes Ms. Sherlock Holmes to put an end to crime, plaguing this
beautiful, little town," she thought to herself and smiled, smiled for
the last time in the coming week.
============
"Come on in Jessie." She heard an all-too-familiar voice coming
from the kitchen as she was about to go through the back door. "Where is
James? I hope he didn't get torn apart by those reporters outside."
"No such luck. He's gonna go through the houses down the block, ask
around a bit. So tell me Chief... who found 'em?" Nickname "Chief"
belonged to a short, full, clean-shaved man, in his late fifties, the
forensics expert and criminalist of the Madison police department -
Robert Lee (by the looks of him one would never have guessed that he
only slept an average of four hours a night).
============
Detective James Darr (who did not have a nickname and therefore all
had to refer to him as James) with eleven years on the force had
acquired the top detective position in the department, along with an
excellent
reputation. He was thirty-four, tall, nicely built, and single. Last
reason being the main thing behind his successful career as a detective.
Sure, he had chances to get hitched, but he passed them up, and he had
a good excuse too: he was married, married to his job that is. Robbery
and homicide was a busy department in Madison; even though the last
murder had been committed over two years ago. But when it came to
robberies, well, Madison was just like any other town with population
over half a million: there were as many of them as there were fish in
the sea (well actually it was considerably less, but still it seemed
like a good cliche to use).
Now Jessie Slovick, had been James' partner since she first got
into the Madison police department over five years ago. Jessie graduated
from college with a B.A in business; she planned to pursue the American
dream. And she did, until her loving grandmother (on her mother's side),
Anita Wanda Ray, was mugged and stabbed to death in broad daylight, and
no one saw, or did not want to see what happened. That is how Jessie
ended up in the Police Academy and went on to become a detective. Did
she hope to rid the world of all evildoers? No, she guessed not, but she
sure hoped to make a difference, to make at least her corner of the
world a slightly better place to live in.
============
"Next door neighbor," continued the Chief while scribbling
something in his little note pad. "They always jogged together at around
six thirty in the morning and when Mickey Wassermann, that's the
deceased' name, in case you don't know yet, did not meet him outside, he
went around to the back door, saw it open, came in, and came out very
fast, gasping for air. At least that is what I heard from the officers
who arrived first on the scene. As for the scene itself, I don't
recommend going in there until it gets cleaned up a bit, Jessie. The
mess at Jefferey Dahmer's apartment would not even be able to come close
to what's inside here... but ultimately it is your choice."
"Thank you Chief. I believe I can handle it just fine," replied
Jessie and proceeded into the living room, motioning for the Chief to
lead the way. "What do we have?"
"Guess that means that you're not going to heed my warning. Oh
well, suit yourself.... We have two dead, very dead lovebirds engaged in
cunnilingus..."
"Cunni-what??" Asked Jessie with a question mark plastered on her
face.
"Cunnilingus... oral intercourse performed on a woman. Only..."
Chief did not have enough time to finish his phrase. Before Jessie's
eyes opened the scene of the crime.
On the wall right across from where they stood, graffiti, scribbled
in the victims' blood read:
THE LORD OF DARKNESS HAS AWAKENED FROM HIS SLEEP
I AM THE RULER OF THE NIGHT YOU ALL ARE SERVANTS AT MY FEET
The room looked like an abstract painting. It seemed as though, the
painter put his magic brush aside, took hold of the half-gallon can of
bright-red paint and just splashed it all over. "Shit, this guy is
really fucked up in the head... can't complain about the lack of
creativity though; he must really put his heart into his work," thought
Jessie while slowly surveying the room with her dark-brown eyes.
Finally after pointing her glance at the floor, Jessie saw exactly
what Chief described.
A dead male with his head between the legs of a dead female rested
in the middle of the living room floor. But there was something wrong
with the picture. She came a little closer... and despite her strong
nerves Jessie could not hold it back.
In an instant a brownish mix of yesterday's ravioli and today's
coffee exited her convulsing throat and made its presence known to all
in the room. Jessie, already responsible for contaminating the scene of
the crime, fell back a step, but forced herself to look at it once more.
It appeared that the victims' heads did not match the rest of their
bodies.
"They were chopped off Jessie..." softly said the Chief as if
talking to himself, while passing her a glass of water, which he kept
handy just for such an accident. "... chopped off and then sewed back
on; only he either mixed 'em up in the dark, or did so on purpose, going
for the whole shock effect, knowing full well what something like this
can do to your psyche.... Could someone please get me another glass of
water?"
As the uniformed officer brought him the glass, Chief exchanged it
for the empty one, handed the new one Jessie, and continued with his
analysis: "He clearly decapitated them separately.... You okay?" He
looked at her with a sort of a fatherly glance and continued on: "he
could have used a sword, or a machete. He sliced their heads off with
one hit, sort of like cutting through tall grass. Clean cut is what I
would call it. He also, as it may seem, brought the tools with him; we
checked around a bit, but there was no sign of a single needle or thread
in the house."
"Chief, so not only do we have a nut who thinks that he is a
vampire, or a devil, but he is also armed with swords, and needles, and hell
knows what else??" Jessie already feeling slightly better gulped down the
glass of water while awaiting his response.
"Yes, possibly. Now if you don't mind I'd like you to leave; my
staff will do all the clean up, and you should go help your partner with
the questioning."
"Yea Chief, I've seen more than enough already. Now, I want to be
filled in on the latest developments first. Okay Chief?"
"You got it my pretty. Go on, I'll contact you as soon as we get some
more details."
============
Outside, James was finishing up his cigarette under the shade of
the tree. His little note pad was empty, except for a couple of crossed
out scribbles. Out of the corner of his left eye he saw Jessie exiting
the house. James turned and went to meet her half way.
"Nobody seen anything, nobody heard anything, I have absolutely
nothing.... Hey," James paused for a second and looked carefully over
Jessie "... you look pale, what the hell did you see in there?"
"Come on James, I'll tell you about it over a cup of coffee.... I
sort of spilled mine," Jessie tugged at his sleeve and started walking
toward the car.
============
12:29 PM.
The 23rd precinct was bustling with activity. Files were being
piled up; old and unsolved murder cases brought out once again; calls coming
out and coming in with non-stop ringing filling personel's ears. The
station was gearing up for the biggest, most violent murder case in the
county's history.
"Darr, Slovick, I want you in my office," a loud voice of the
captain blasted through the station.
"Sure thing Cap, we'll be right there. Come on Jes, lets go...
you'll forget about it all in a few days," James had been comforting her
ever since she clued him in as to what she saw in the Wassermann house.
Despite it all, Jessie did not seem to feel any better. "It's all my
fault," James thought to himself "I should have known that a reaction
like that could take place. I should have gone in there instead."
As the door to the captain's office closed, and silence spread
through the room, Captain went right to the point.
"Alright guys, here is the deal. Chief just filled me in on all
that he knows. The time of death is estimated to be at around one or two
o'clock. Murder weapon, boy... you're gonna have a hard time believing
this one... probably a sword. The scene is fucking clean!" His clenched
fists landed on the desk with a loud bang. "I have never, not in my
entire career as a detective seen such obviously psychotic display of
violence without a trace of useful evidence! The killer shows signs of
psychosis, yet he is rational and smart enough not to leave finger
prints on the scene. Just some synthetic hairs that fell out of the wig
here and there. So basically we've got nothing to go on except those
couple of hairs."
"We now know however, that the murderer thinks he is a vampire,"
continued the Captain after a long pause "...Chief told me that
some blood was unaccounted for. This means that the murderer either
collected the blood for some out-of-this-world purpose, or drank
it, which in itself is a sign of his so-called-identity, and quite an
unhealthy thing to do. Lets just hope that we catch this sucker before
he dies of Aids.... There were also marks discovered on the necks of the
deceased. Marks were made by a very sharp object. For all we know, he
could have custom-made fangs just for such an incident.... Now I'm going
to release a statement to the press, and you two..." Captain pointed his
finger at James and Jessie, who sat lifelessly in the two chairs before
the Captain's desk and hung on his every word (just the way he wanted
it) "... continue the investigation. I don't care how we get him, go to
the library do some research; watch some vampire movies, I hear that
latest flick with Tom Cruse should be out already, whats it called now??
"Interview with a Vampire, Captain," answered Jessie and hushed up
momentarily.
"Right, whatever," started up the Captain once again, "if you need
stakes, holy water, crosses, garlic - get them. I want this bloodsucker
off the fucking streets! And I depend on you two to do so. Torture time
is over. Go on, get out there and get me that parasite."
============
The press outside were eagerly awaiting their promised statement.
They received a word or two from Larry Milton, spokesman for the
department, but that was not going to cut it with them. They needed the
facts; they needed something that would look good on the tomorrow's
front page; they needed...
"Detective Darr, detective Slovick is it true that you were
assigned to head the investigation?" "What were the circumstances..."
"Excuse us, but we have no comment at this time. Please wait for
the statement from Captain Robertson," answered James to the crowd (that
looked more and more like the lynch mob as time went on) and stormed
passed it with Jessie right behind him.
"That was detectives Darr and Slovick, who as we were told have
been assigned to head the investigation, although no confirmation on the
matter came from the detectives themselves, on the so-called Vampire
killer. I am Maria Puerez for the channel eleven news special report."
"Thank you Maria. We will keep you updated on the case as soon as
we get hold of more information. Stay tuned to channel eleven news WHERE
WE GIVE YOU NEWS EVERY HOUR ON THE HOUR TWENTY FOUR HOUR A DAY. I am
Michael Rose."
"And I am Linda White. Thank you for watching."
============
"Jes, lets call it a day. Come on, its almost midnight." Darr and
Slovick were winding up their day with their heads deep in the books,
books that normally neither one of them would even glance at; literature
about those mythical creatures of darkness, rulers of the night, those
fowl beings that initially came from somebody's sick mind, and have
plagued the imaginations of humans ever since.
"Okay James. I do need some rest." Jessie drove James to his
house; they said their goodbyes, and she sped away toward her apartment,
located just ten minutes away, driving distance, from the station.
============
2:17 AM.
"Ahh, ahh, ooh, oooh, ahhh!... Ah, ah, ah.... C.J. where are you
going?"
"I'll be right back baby." Lights went on in the bathroom, as C.J.
closed the door. In the bedroom, two rooms away, in a queen-sized bed,
Karyn, swimming in ecstasy, was counting the number of orgasms she had
on this magical night, while at the same time trying to figure out what
got into C.J.; tonight's ahhs and oohs were as genuine as pleasure from
a fifty-dollar vibrator (which she sometimes turned to. C.J. just
couldn't hold on long enough. Speed Racer, hell, Speedy Gonzales himself
wouldn't be able to come as fast as C.J.). But today C.J. was all fired
up, adrenalin flowing through his body. He was working her from every
angle. Karyn could not even ask for more from Sam, whom she was sleeping
with on the side.
"What if he is cheating on me," she thought for a second, but
dismissed it, as soon as she realized that if his cheating was to blame
for great sex, then she did not mind at all. Besides, she was only
screwing him for his wallet, nothing else. "C.J!? What's taking you so
long? Come back to bed."
Lights turned off. The door squeaked open, and he rushed back into
the sack. Karyn was lying on her back, her face turned to the shuttered
window. He gently got on her back, pushed his hands under her weight,
and started massaging her breasts. He then picked her up by her armpits
and placed her hands gently on the bedposts. "C.J... you kinky devil,"
murmured pleasurably Karyn, willingly turning over control of her body
to her outstandingly-performing lover. "Are you trying to fuck me to
death?" She grabbed C.J's right hand and crammed it into her crotch,
letting his left wonder around by itself, placed her hand back on the
bedpost and prepared to go back to paradise. As he entered her from
behind, one hand gently foundling her breasts and the other searching
for the clit, she squeaked with pleasure. "Yes! Yes! Ahh! Ahh! Faster!
Faster! Fasterrrr!" C.J, who was quite a screamer himself, strangely,
did not make a sound.
Suddenly the pressure of his body on hers increased. The speed with
which he entered her went from slow (oh-that-feels-nice speed) to rapid
(the fuck-slow-down-a-bit speed); her screams of "faster, faster,"
noticed with far greater force than desired. Pleasure started turning
into pain. A small stream of blood slowly began to exit her anal
opening; she could feel the walls of her intestinal tract being torn by
his massive penis. His left hand turned into a ferocious animal no
longer caressing, but clawing at her chest, tearing up the flesh on her
flawless body. His right sunk itself deep into the curly, brunette locks
on her head pulling it up, her neck on a verge of snapping like a twig.
"Stop C.J!!! Stop!!! You're hurting me!! Stoooooahh..." The rest
happened in a matter of a millisecond. As the last "stop" made its way
out of her throat, C.J pressed down on the back of her head with his
right hand, with unimaginable force, her mouth still wide open, in the
midst of a scream; her head easily gave way, not prepared for his
actions. Her open mouth slammed into the head-board, and her front teeth
shattered to pieces. At the same time her lovely nose and forehead
collided with the wall.
Karyn's body became motionless.
After making sure she was dead, he removed his penis from her
buttocks and sunk his fangs deep into her neck.
============
Heavy breathing. A murky side-way street lies to the right of
Jessie's path. She cannot recognize the surroundings. Still, she enters
it running, running as fast as she can, but she cannot outrun her
pursuer. She has not looked back yet, but she knows that he is behind
her. "Jessiiieee," a voice calls out to her from the darkness, coming
from all sides like a good stereo system with surround-sound "...you
cannot run from me... turn around and face me." Her feet still moving,
she unwillingly turns her head, knowing that a force far beyond her own
strength and will is controlling it. As she looks back, her nightmare
comes into view. Only he is not running... he is flying after her with
his feet at least 3 ft. from the ground.
"Leave me the fuck alone, you freak!!" She screams back at him.
"You're not real! You're not real!"
"Jessie, but I am! Ha! Ha! Ha! I need you. I want you Jessie. Stop
running! You know you cannot run from me! You cannot escape meeee!!!" As
his last words spill out of his mouth, his voice filled with anger,
hatred and impatience; he disappears from her sight. But Jessie knows
that he has not left her alone (no predator gives up on its prey that
easily). She knows that he is waiting for her; she knows that as soon as
she turns her head he will reappear, reappear right before her eyes, and
she will see him.
And so she turns her head, and he appears out of nowhere... a man
wrapped up in a cloak, standing over seven feet tall, a man without a
face. "Jessie... I give you... life!!!" He raises his monstrous hands,
throws himself at her, and pierces her tender neck with his fangs....
"Ahhhhhhhhhhh!! Hhhh! Hhh! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck... Jesus fucking
Christ!" Jessie awakes. With her hands she is feeling her body and neck,
searching for any cuts. "Jesus fucking Christ! What a fucking trip!" Her
heart is beating like a drum. Her pillow (she always sleeps sideways) is
wet from her drool. Her whole body is drenched up in sweat. That dream
seemed so real; she vividly remembers every little detail of her short
venture.
Jessie's glance falls on her answering machine. A little, red 1 is
flashing in the bottom, left corner. With her trembling right hand,
still in a state of shock after such a horrid nightmare, she presses the
play-back button.
A disturbed voice broke the silence of the night. "Slovick...
Slovick, I am not good at talking to these machines, so I'm gonna make
it short. Our vampire friend has done it again. The Chief is already on
the scene, and he told me over the phone that it is even worse than the
first two. I want you at the station by six. Robertson out."
"Five...." Jessie picks up and looks at the Lorus wrist watch which
was resting comfortably by the phone. "... Guess I better get up and
take a shower." No longer able to sit, Jessie crashes back into her bed.
"Just a little longer, just a little lon...."
============
"Slovick, where were you? Didn't you get my damn message? Its ten
fucking in the morning."
"Sorry Captain, my fault, I'm heading out to the scene right now."
"Go on. Get the hell outta here...." God, she is a mess, captain
thought to himself, as Jessie was heading out the door. The shirt was
not tucked into her skirt; her eyes were bloodshot and her hair looked
like that of Tina Turner's. Clothes did not match; she looked like a
junky coming off a three-day, non-stop trip. God knows, he has seen a
lot of those at the station. "...Oh, and Slovick, next time you come
into my office, have enough courtesy to look like a human being.
Alright!?"
"Asshole," Jessie said under her breath and continued in the same
direction not looking back.
============
"Well James, lets go inside," said Robert Lee and invited James in
"can't get a hold of Jessie still, huh?"
"Nah, it's better this way. She'd just insist on going in again,
and you know as well as I, she had more than enough of this shit
yesterday.... So lets start the tour, Chief."
Just as with Jessie, before James Darr's eyes the crime scene was
unveiled. There was no writing on the wall this time, and the room
wasn't covered with blood completely... just the bed.
On that bed Karyn still remained in the same position that her
attacker left her in.. Hands on the bedposts, stiff and frozen, much like
the rest of her body. Her legs still spread apart, knees digging into
the mattress. Her face, which James could not make out, because it was
no longer there, was firmly attached to the wall. The blood, which
emptied out of her nose and head wounds after the collision, managed to
serve another purpose; in addition to keeping people alive, here it also
served as crazy glue.
It seemed as though Karyn's head formed a solid bond with the wall.
Her mouth, as James was able to decipher in this mess, was eating away
at the board; several teeth adorned the blood-stained pillows. Her hair
was brushed off to the left side of her probably broken neck, and James,
after moving a couple more feet closer to the body spotted the two dark-
blue teeth marks - the sign of the killer.
"Having fun yet, James? The other one is in the bathroom. You don't
really have to go in there. Our Dracula didn't have time to work on him.
He was only cut in half, right above the waist line, again a clean cut.
The upper half was placed in the sink; one hand clutching a little
plastic bag filled with Coke, really looks like the top of the line shit
by the way. And the other one with...
"Nah, nah, let me guess... a razor-blade??"
"Yep, thas right Holmes, and futher moe, his otha haf hath been
placed on tha toilet, cun you imagine fo what pupose??" James let out a
loud laugh and patted Chief on the back.
"You keep working on that Chief. You're still a bit rusty.... As
for this place, I've seen enough, think I'm gonna go and have a little
chat with the neighbor.... Oh, by the way Doctor Watson is the victim
perhaps missing a right breast?"
"No it is still there... whatever is left of it at least. I think
that with our Dracula friend we should no longer be surprised about
anything, at least not after what I have seen in the past two days."
James cracked another smile and headed for the door. Ahead of him
was another grueling day, he supposed, already spotting a few reporters
closing-in on the scene of the crime like vultures on a dead gazelle.
============
It was raining... again. The rain was slowly dripping from the sky,
not strong enough to be a nuisance, but strong enough to fuck up a
beautiful day. The cigarette locked between James' lips was dying out,
ashes swept away by a tiny stream of water as soon as they touched the
ground.
"Hi James. Waiting for me?" Jessie came around from the trunk of
the tree on which James had been leaning against.
"Yea Jes, are you okay? I kept calling and calling, but no one
picked up. God, you don't look so hot either."
"Yea, I know I don't look so hot; I just wish everyone would stop
reminding me of that. I just had a nightmare, and if I recall correctly
then this is my first nightmare in at least several years. And so
memorable too. This fucking, bloodsucking parasite is pursuing me, and
I'm running around places I've never seen before, and he keeps calling
out to me you know: 'stop Jessie, stop' and all that other shit, and
then he kills me.... I have never died in a dream before. I've always
awakened prior to that. My grandma always told me that those who die in
their dreams often die the same way in reality."
"You don't really believe that now, do you?"
"... No. not really, but my grandma was stabbed to death. I mean I
don't know if she ever had a dream in which she was stabbed, but the
circumstances surrounding her death were so out of the ordinary."
"Look here Jes, superstition is nothing to be ashamed of; nor does
it make you a stronger or weaker-willed individual... as long as you
know where to draw the damn line. Never let your beliefs interfere with
your job," James wrapped his right around Jessie's waist, pulled her
close, and hugged her. "Now, doesn't that make you feel better?"
"Yes, surprisingly it does. Thanks," Jessie freed herself from his
warm embrace. She didn't feel better at all; she just did what had to be
done to get her caring partner of her back.
"Come on. Lets go socialize a bit with Mr. Peterson. He is the guy
who heard the screams last night and gave us a call; a little too late,
but it'll have to do."
"Didn't see anything?"
"No, he never left his apartment, too scared. And you know what, in
this case it ended up doing some good; all that heroic shit would have
cost him his main body part, and us, more mess to clean up."
============
"... It has just been announced to us that the two murders
committed last night and the two committed on Tuesday are in fact
connected. We will keep you posted as more details become available.
Stay tuned to the ALL AROUND THE WORLD NEWS on channel 8, WHERE WE GIVE
YOU ALL THE TOP STORIES ALONG WITH OUR SEVEN-DAY WEATHER FORECAST TWELVE
TIMES DURING THE DAY. I am Kate Nullin..."
"And I am Bob Huomazu, series premiere of Models' Place is up
next."
"Clear. We're off the air."
"I am really scared Bob. Police have no suspects, and this maniac
is probably contemplating his next move at this very moment. If they
don't come up with something by the end of the week I am going to take
my well-deserved vacation."
"Settle down, Kate. They'll get him. Psychopaths can go on just for
so long before they make a mistake. They'll get him. And then they'll
fry him. And I will get us passes to watch the event; I'll bring the
glasses, and you'll bring the popcorn. Deal?'
"Sure, I'll take you up on it. See you tomorrow at six," Kate
removed the microphone from her blouse and moments later disappeared in
the elevator. Come to think of it, she really did deserve a vacation,
and since fate never disappoints, she was going to get one.
============
It was 10:30 in the evening, and Robert Lee was still in his lab.
Over the past couple of days he changed. He couldn't remember the last
time he ate, shaved, or took a bath. He had gone over every inch of the
four, mutilated bodies, but he could not find a solid finger print.
Sure, he had some pubic hairs; they belonged to a white male with dark
hair, well now "there goes a description of every serial killer there
is," he thought. Semen analysis had come back positive. Unidentified
traces of semen were found in the girl's system, but when he had nothing
to match them with, what use were they? "When we catch him, I'm gonna
have some concrete evidence; I will not let it become another O.J.
Simpson case.... God, I gotta get some sleep."
"Talking to yourself again, Chief?" asked Jessie as her head popped
in the door.
"Ahh, you startled me. I'm tired. I'm angry. And If I don't get
some answers soon, I'm gonna go coo-coo."
"Same here. Night, Chief."
"See you tomorrow Jessie."
============
2:05 A.M.
Reverend John Mitchell has been a priest at the First Baptist
Church of Jesus Christ for twenty two years. At his ripe age of fifty-
six, he came across to many people as the pillar of the tiny baptist
community.
Brought up in a religious household, John always wanted to follow
in the steps of his father, Reverend Tom Mitchell. His father died of
complications after a heart attack when John was thirty-four. So he took
over his father's position in the Church. Over the next decade John
turned the Church into a safe haven. He often helped people from the
streets. Five percent of all donations went to the fund for the homeless
and the needy. But one day, some four years ago, the Church was broken
into; he was severely beaten, and all the money stolen.
His trust in the good of humanity damaged, but not shattered,
he acquired a little friend, a twenty-two caliber revolver, and kept it
by his side from that day on. "The lord watches over us, but who's to
watch over the house of the lord?" was his favorite saying. How was he
to know his fate? How was he to know that even the lord chose to avoid
some battles; his blind faith cleansed his mind of all doubts.
Reverend Mitchell lived in a small room on the second floor of the
Church. A fan of any and all religious material he was submerged in the
book written by his holiness Pope John Paul the Second. Moments later a
loud, strange noise came from downstairs.
Fear-stricken, with memories of the past experience flashing before his
eyes; he grabbed the gun, hesitated for a moment, then recalled his
favorite saying and went down to investigate.
The main floor of the Church was very humble, the only interesting
thing in the whole place was the crucified statue of Jesus resting on
the wall by the altar. In front of it stood a tall man, his back turned
to Mitchell.
"Even god has to rest sometimes sir," said Mitchell to the tall,
dark figure as he continued his way down the stairs. "I will be glad to
help you with anything that you need first thing in the morning."
"I am sorry for the inconvenience father," answered back the man
"but I am in a need of your services right now. The lord may be taking
his nap now, but I have just awakened.... So tell me, what does a man
like me have to do to get a man like yourself over to my side?" The
stranger turned around and faced the priest.
Father Mitchell was still a good distance away from him, but as
soon as the man turned around, Mitchell knew.
"You have no right to enter this sacred place!!" He shouted with a
flare of anger in his voice. With his shaking, right hand Mitchell took
out the revolver and pointed it at the vampire. "I know what you are!
You are a murderer! You are a devil's spawn! How dare you enter the
shrine of the lord?!"
"I am not the devil's spawn father. I am not a murderer," calmly
replied the vampire. "I am a man, much like yourself, only I am dead
inside. I am a self-proclaimed ruler of the kingdom of death, a dark
angel, the Antichrist, if you wish. I am what I am. I am condemned to
this way of existence, whereas a servant of god could serve on any side.
So what do you say father, will you join me? I assure you that the
benefits are far greater than they will ever be under the guidance of
that old, senile fool." A huge smile appeared on his face, and he took
a step toward Mitchell, who now stood just some thirty feet away, gun
trembling in his hand.
"You move again and I'll send you right back to where you came
from!" Mitchell's hand straightened out, revolver aiming at the
vampire's chest.
"Does this mean that you refuse my offer? Oh well... but just for
the sake of argument: where did I come from father?" Sarcastically asked
the man and took another step, then another, then another.
"Hell!!!" Furiously hollered John Mitchell as the shots rang out
through the Church. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.... Click, click.
Empty.
All six hit the destination. Two right in the heart, the other four
in the stomach. The vampire stood for a second looking at his penetrated
chest, hissed out some illegible sounds, smiled again, and fell over
flat on his back.
"Thank you, oh heavenly father for watching over me and this humble
place of worship." Mitchell brought a little silver cross, hanging on
his chest, to his lips and passionately kissed it. He threw the gun down
by the lifeless body, turned around, and rushed to the room, the little
office, by the confessionals to call the police. He got to the door,
took out the key, and took one look behind his shoulder....
"Ahhhhhhh! Jesus almighty! But I have freed your tortured soul from
the clutches of evil! How... how...
"Oh stop it father. Did you really think that all it took to rid of
me was that silly toy?" He raised his hands and showed Mitchell a gun
and half-a-dozen slugs. "You disappoint me father. You are as foolish as
the rest of them.... Mortals... you can't live with them, so you just
have to kill them."
The vampire was only four feet away from the priest. But Mitchell
just froze; he could not move a muscle. The cross which he was still
clutching in his fist dug into his palm and tore the thin layer of
flesh.
"I what you to know that I do not discriminate against fools
father. If I did, there would be no one to serve me."
In that instance the vampire smiled again, his fangs showing
through for the first time before John Mitchell's eyes. He raised his
left hand, adorned with five huge claws, and brought it down on the
stunned priest.
Father Mitchell fell silently to the ground. In his last moment of
life, as the blood was gushing out through the mortal wounds, Mitchell
saw it. He saw it and took it with him to his grave, knowing full well
that evil will never prevail.
"A long time ago, one of my mentors told me that holy blood was
good for your heart," commented the vampire out loud. "Lets see if he
was right." He knelt before the lifeless body and started on his meal.
============
6:03 A.M
The door opened and Mary Joe Williams entered into the Church. Mary
Joe was a very religious woman in her late fifties. She had a big heart
and an even bigger waist line. At three hundred and some pounds, and
aiming for four, Mary Joe, nevertheless, prided herself on coming every
morning first to pray to the lord who so lovingly put food on her table
every day since her birth.
"Father Mitchell," she called out, "how are you this morning?" She
did not expect a response; Mitchell always opened the door for her and
then went back to sleep for about thirty more minutes. So as always,
Mary Joe went straight to the statue (with her body fat shifting from
side to side, much like a nearly even set of scales, as she strolled
along)... and stopped dead in her tracks about ten feet away.
"Oh my loooord!" She exclaimed with awe. She ran (if it is possible
for someone her size to actually run) to the statue, knelt before it,
and started showering Jesus' feet with kisses. "Oh my loooord! Bless me
and my family and all my friends and relatives. Lord Jesus, bless the
children and the sick and the needy. Lord Jesus please forgive us for
all our sins for we have seen the errors of our ways and are in need of
your love and guidance. Thank you for showing us the way... Amen."
She kissed his feet again, crossed her chest three times and
directed her eyes toward the miracle once more.
The crucified statue of Jesus was shedding tears... and not just
any tears... it was shedding bloody tears.
Two tiny streams of blood came down Jesus' face, and Mary Joe, a
strong believer in miraculous events and signs had no doubt in her mind
that this could be nothing but a miracle.
"Father Mitchell! Come down quickly! It is a miracle!!" When she
once again did not receive an answer; she decided that this could no
longer wait and ran up to father Mitchell's room. She pushed the door
open, ran in... and dropped dead a second later.
Mary Joe never really cared for her diet; to her a healthy meal was
a bowl of chicken broth accompanied by a pork chop and some fried
potatoes. Her big heart burst like a balloon at the encountered sight.
On the wall, right above father Mitchell's bed hung dear father
Mitchell himself, crucified in much the same manner as was Jesus. The
sheets were soaked with blood; the light bulb seemed to have been
smeared with it intentionally and illuminated the room with dark-red
light. Father Mitchell's head, the only part of the body not nailed to
the wall, rested on his left shoulder and his mouth was frozen in a
smile... a smile that most undoubtedly was responsible for Mary Joe
Williams' overload.
============
"Six. Six people dead in three days! Five murdered by a psycho and
the last one dead of a heart attack! This is just fucking great!" The
Captain crashed into his chair and took a sip from a cold cup of coffee.
"Chief!!" he yelled from the top of his lungs. "Someone, get Lee in
here!"
The door to the Captain's office opened and Lee stormed inside.
"Yes, captain?"
"Lee, please don't get me wrong, but my patience is wearing thin.
I am trying to keep cool, but that parasite is bleeding the whole town
dry! Please tell me what you found in the Church and please don't tell
me: 'nothing.'"
"Well Captain, we did find something. We found the gun by the pool
of blood on the main floor. It was empty. It also had fingerprints on
it... priest's."
"So, he shot at him?... Bullets?"
"No, sir. Not one. I guess he didn't miss."
"A bullet-proof vest?"
"Very likely sir. Very likely."
"This is good. Vests are a little tougher to come by than wigs."
The Captain got up and proceeded to move around the room in slow pace.
"Now, I'll get Nicks and Krowatsky to check up on any sales of vests to
this region, but first, Mr. Lee if you would - the cause of death of the
priest, please."
"Oh, Captain, that one was simple. He slashed his chest with, what
seemed to be, claws."
"Claws??? Claws as in what kind?"
"Did you ever see any of the Nightmares on Elm Street?"
"Those Freddy Krugger movies?"
"Yep.... Well that's how it looks."
"So padre was playing tag with Freddy, huh? This guy is loaded up
with arsenal from horror movies."
"Yes, Captain, it sure looks that way. If we take 'Dracula,'
'Freddy,' and 'Jason,' and put all of 'em in a big boiling pot, then we
get our guy.
"Alright Chief. Thank you. Go on and finish whatever you were
doing. I need some time alone to think up a new strategy perhaps."
Robert Lee turned around and walked out of the room.
"Hey. John. Dave. The Captain's got an assignment for ya."
============
It was just about lunch time, as Jessy walked through the door. She
looked tired. She had dark glasses over her eyes.
"I never saw her wear dark glasses at this time of the year,"
thought James, as he got up from his desk and went to meet her. "She
likes daylight."
"Hey, Jes... Jes, you okay?"
Jessy took off the glasses and put them in her purse. She then
lifted up her head and displayed her face before James'. "I had a
nightmare about him again last night. He killed me again," she smirked,
unable from keeping the whole subject of superstition under raps. "He
jumped on me, sunk his fangs into my neck again, and bang! I woke up,
sweating like a pig and gasping for air. I did not sleep the remainder of
the night.... Stay with me tonight, James. I need someone to be with me
tonight. I cannot be alone."
"Sure Jes. I'm always here for you. How does this sound, we'll meet
up at your place seven-thirtyish, we'll go to Wan-Tang's? Eat some
Chuneese? Opun some fortoon cookeees." He brought his face close to hers
and smiled with his wide grin. "Come on," he said disappointingly "you
always laugh at my oriental impressions."
"Thank you James." She leaned closer and kissed him on the lips. He
hastily turned away.
He hated blushing, blushing was for boys; he was a man; he was a
cop... better, a detective. Why then did he turn away? God knows how
long he has wanted to kiss her, but was afraid that it would jeopardize
their friendship, and now finally it happens and he turns away!? Fucking
idiot. I'm nothing but a fucking idiot. No you are not, another voice in
the back of his head said. That was a friendly kiss. Nothing more. You
are friends. Clear that melon of yours of all dirty thoughts and say
something quick, or she think that you're in a trance.
"I guess that means a yes, Jes?" He asked turning back around to
face her.
============
"Please remove cash, please remove cash, please remove cash..."
"Alright, I did, now shut the fuck up. Why did they have to give
these damn machines a voice recording?"
In the slot of the Cirrus cash station were three hundred dollars.
The man quickly removed the cash, put it in his back pants pocket and
hurried off to his car. Seconds later the machine started up again.
"Please remove card, please remove card, please remove card..."
============
11:15 PM.
"You know James, we should have done this a long time ago." Jessie
was having a hard time fitting the key into the hole. "God, I had a lot
to drink tonight. Ooph. Look at me," Jessie giggled uncontrollably "I
can't even stick it in the hole. Pppph. Ha. Ha. Ha."
"Come on Jes. Let me help you with that." James reached for the
shaking hand and pushed in the right direction. He had a little to drink
too, but was quite sober nevertheless.
Finally the key went in, and the door to Jessie's apartment creaked
open. She walked in, James right behind, dropped her purse on the couch
and headed for the light switch in the living-room. James closed the
door behind him and flicked the light-switch on the side.
Nothing.
He flicks it off and on again; still nothing.
"Jes? Lights won't go on here."
"Same here, maybe there's something wrong with the fuse box. Oh
well," she started giggling again "we don't need no stinkin' lights,"
she exclaimed in a deep voice.
"Jessieee... I am heeere," a strange, new voice said just some
three feet away from Jessie, and she froze.
As if a bucket of icy water had been splashed on her, she came to.
And then... bam!! It hit her like a stray bullet.
"Oh my god, he is here; he is here," raced through her mind, but
she couldn't move. "This is not a dream, this is for real, he is here;
he came for me, no, no, no."
"Jessieee... Ha..." started to scream the voice, but was cut off in
the midst of its yell.
"Jes, look out!!" In his hands, James held his service revolver.
Now was not the time to miss. It was pitch-dark in the room, but he
could see the shape next to Jessie. He took in a short breath and fired.
"Ahh!"
Right on target. He fired again and again and again. He continued
pressing the trigger, although it was all emptied out.
"Die you fucking bastard!!!" Furiously shouted James, until he
finally heard those, all too familiar, clicking noises.
The man fell lifelessly on the floor. Their eyes slowly adjusted to
the dark; Jessie and James were finally able to make out the dark
figure. His face was all white; tiny stream of blood trickling down his
chin. His fangs stuck out sideways out of his agape mouth. His white,
buttoned-down shirt contained six, little, bullet holes. And in his
right was a knife with a fifteen-inch blade.
James came over, kneeled before the body, lifted up the left wrist
off the ground, and returned the diagnosis.
"He is dead Jes. He is dead."
"How do you know James?! What if he was never alive?!" Jessie was
on a verge of breaking down into hysteria.
"He is dead!! I assure you; he is dead Jes." James wrapped his arms
around her shaking body, pulled her face close and kissed her forehead.
He then quickly helped her outside; he didn't want her looking at that
monster any longer than she had to.
"It is all over. The nightmare is over, and the case is closed.
Lets get outta here; Chief will gladly take over.... Come on. We did it.
Dracula was a sucker after all. Come o-on. I won't leave you alone till
I see a smile on your face."
Jessie concentrated for a second and pulled off a weak smile, but
a smile nonetheless. "There. You happy now??"
"Oh yes. Ecstatic.... I doo noo bout you, but I'm soo haaappyyy."
"You keep working on that," said Jessie and for the first time
expelled a real, ringing-in-the-ears laugh. "You're the best."
"I know," simply answered James and closed his arms around her for
another warm hug.
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