Ilthit (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ilthit) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
rainbowfic2024-01-30 01:28 pm
ilthit) wrote in rainbowfic2024-01-30 01:28 pm
Newsprint #22, Psychedelic Purple #20: I eat a man who thought he loved me (Tanhua the Vampire)
Name: I eat a man who thought he loved me
Story: Tanhua the Vampire
Colors: Newsprint #22 (Protect me from what I want.), Psychedelic Purple #20 (a heart that's oh so true)
Supplies and Styles: calendar page (National Escape Day), glue (Aquarius 29.1.24), pastels (ladiesbingo "Mentors"); chiaroscuro, life drawing, sculpture
Word Count: 1,208
Rating: teen
Warnings: Violence, murder, slavery, reference to forced prostitution and abuse.
Summary: Journal entry: The first meal.
*
I am writing this in the third language I have learned since my birth, before I lose all memory of those first days, as I may one day lose my first language, if I live long enough. I have already lived for so long.
How could I die? I was dead already, stuck on this side, hiding in shadows to survive. I still do not know why I was unable to pass to the other side; I still do not know what it will take to get there. My new body came with its own instincts of caution, and its own bestial drive to survive. I do not want this body to be destroyed. I do not want to be a ghost, a thing viable to sight, but not to touch. I want to eat, all the time. It is a hunger that will not be sated.
I am a tick, that is all, or a louse, wearing a human shape. I do not mind calling myself that. I was called that before this ever happened to me. Once a louse, always a louse.
That first meal, a part of me regrets. Another part crows-- What a victory! What a showing!
I remember:
I dug my way out of the haystack towards flickering light. I could hear her talking, and so I crept up quiet as a mouse to the edge of the loft and peered down, to see her hunched over the fire, and across from it, the face of the man named Sulo.
Sulo was, oh, perhaps my age and half again, with stubble on his chin and his long hair in a braid down his back, and it escaped to frame his face in wisps. He was strongly built, the body of a workman who felled trees and beasts and raked the earth. If this makes you think I found him lovely, you are wrong. I was never interested in men, and I loathed this one especially, since he was interested in me in a way I could not reciprocate.
Sulo was a hunter, a roustabout, and a man of all work, and he'd trailed Franka from farmstead to village to town, asking at every stop if he could buy me, if not altogether, then for a night; but Sulo's purse was not made of gold, and he could never gather up enough to satisfy Franka's greed, especially since she understood my reluctance. She would sell me, as we have seen, but not cheap.
He said he loved me; but I would rather remain the slave of a violent and penniless old witch than be beloved by a man.
"I'll build us a log cabin," he was telling Franka as I listened from the shadows above. "She won't want for nothing, and her children either. I'll hunt, and there'll be a turnip patch and good foraging. I know just the place, out where no people will bother us."
"So you've said," said Franka, in the sugary voice she reserved for fools and clients. "Well, you just wait to tell her yourself. She'll be right here, and then you can do as young people do, here in this nice comfy hay, eh? It's all arranged. Just a little patience."
Perhaps he suspected a trick, but his piece was too eager to let him doubt her.
My hunger grew within me as I watched him lean towards the fire, saw the glow of it on his skin and the raw meatiness of his neck. He looked like food, and he looked like a thing to tear apart.
I wonder what I looked like to them, coming down the ladder from the hayloft, my new skin translucent pale and my hair hanging messily around my face, wearing only my last clean shift. My hands and feet gripped the wood of the ladder in new ways, fingers and toes agile; my muscles felt like steel as I pounded across the short distance to hit Sulo in the chest and knock him over.
I kneeled over him, and I believe I growled like an animal as he stared up at me with astonishment. My eyes stung, and my lips drew back from my mouth, and only then did I see fear growing in his eyes.
It was satisfying.
He grabbed my arms. I endured his touch only because I knew what I was about to do.
After he was--done with--I went down to the water and washed in the cold water. I did not mind the cold as I once might have. I stripped off another ruined shift and washed it too, as best I could, and padded back to the barn with it still wet on my shoulders.
Franka was wrapping what remained of Sulo up on his own cape. I could see it staining through with red, despite her best efforts to contain it. "I have made more mess," I told her. "I apologize."
She jerked in surprise and spun back towards me, her jaw working. "Well. Well. Never you mind that now, girl." She looked frightened, and suddenly quite fragile, though Franka had always seemed a creature of unmovable wiry strength before. "I have his money-- We could... We could..."
I shook my head and put my head into my hands. "Look at me, mistress."
I cried for a little bit, then, but seeing my tears stained my hands red, I stopped, and wiped them on Sulo's cape, where they'd not stand out much from the rest.
Franka was a selfish old woman who never thought of me as anything more than a tool or, at best, a pet, but she had fed me and slept beside me, and I had learned from her the origins of things, and spells and secrets, and she'd never hit me without good reason, unless it was out of fear I might leave otherwise. She had said I was the only thing she had left; well, so she was the only thing I had, as well.
"I'll go-- I'll go," I said. "I'll find my way to the other side. You go on by yourself. The body can go in the water. They won't catch you for it, if you're careful, and go quick, go now."
And then Franka was crying again, sorry for herself and for her poverty. After a while of watching her I left, and walked out into the woods.
The woods did not seem so dark now. The shadows were not pools of blank ink, but rather pale blue and clear in my vision. Dark versus light. Living versus dead. Life-giver versus life-taker. Of course, it made sense.
Some steps into the treeline I began to run, leaping over moss-covered rocks and fallen tree-trunks, the heart in me beating slow, like a calling drum, the feel of Sulo's blood rushing into my muscles. It had not beaten at all, until I'd fed.
I ran and ran until I fell, still not tired but feeling the approach of dawn, and buried myself under the moss into the soft wet ground. There, I waited for the night to return, so I could run again, deeper into the endless forest, further on; to find my way to where I belonged.
Story: Tanhua the Vampire
Colors: Newsprint #22 (Protect me from what I want.), Psychedelic Purple #20 (a heart that's oh so true)
Supplies and Styles: calendar page (National Escape Day), glue (Aquarius 29.1.24), pastels (
ladiesbingo "Mentors"); chiaroscuro, life drawing, sculptureWord Count: 1,208
Rating: teen
Warnings: Violence, murder, slavery, reference to forced prostitution and abuse.
Summary: Journal entry: The first meal.
*
I am writing this in the third language I have learned since my birth, before I lose all memory of those first days, as I may one day lose my first language, if I live long enough. I have already lived for so long.
How could I die? I was dead already, stuck on this side, hiding in shadows to survive. I still do not know why I was unable to pass to the other side; I still do not know what it will take to get there. My new body came with its own instincts of caution, and its own bestial drive to survive. I do not want this body to be destroyed. I do not want to be a ghost, a thing viable to sight, but not to touch. I want to eat, all the time. It is a hunger that will not be sated.
I am a tick, that is all, or a louse, wearing a human shape. I do not mind calling myself that. I was called that before this ever happened to me. Once a louse, always a louse.
That first meal, a part of me regrets. Another part crows-- What a victory! What a showing!
I remember:
I dug my way out of the haystack towards flickering light. I could hear her talking, and so I crept up quiet as a mouse to the edge of the loft and peered down, to see her hunched over the fire, and across from it, the face of the man named Sulo.
Sulo was, oh, perhaps my age and half again, with stubble on his chin and his long hair in a braid down his back, and it escaped to frame his face in wisps. He was strongly built, the body of a workman who felled trees and beasts and raked the earth. If this makes you think I found him lovely, you are wrong. I was never interested in men, and I loathed this one especially, since he was interested in me in a way I could not reciprocate.
Sulo was a hunter, a roustabout, and a man of all work, and he'd trailed Franka from farmstead to village to town, asking at every stop if he could buy me, if not altogether, then for a night; but Sulo's purse was not made of gold, and he could never gather up enough to satisfy Franka's greed, especially since she understood my reluctance. She would sell me, as we have seen, but not cheap.
He said he loved me; but I would rather remain the slave of a violent and penniless old witch than be beloved by a man.
"I'll build us a log cabin," he was telling Franka as I listened from the shadows above. "She won't want for nothing, and her children either. I'll hunt, and there'll be a turnip patch and good foraging. I know just the place, out where no people will bother us."
"So you've said," said Franka, in the sugary voice she reserved for fools and clients. "Well, you just wait to tell her yourself. She'll be right here, and then you can do as young people do, here in this nice comfy hay, eh? It's all arranged. Just a little patience."
Perhaps he suspected a trick, but his piece was too eager to let him doubt her.
My hunger grew within me as I watched him lean towards the fire, saw the glow of it on his skin and the raw meatiness of his neck. He looked like food, and he looked like a thing to tear apart.
I wonder what I looked like to them, coming down the ladder from the hayloft, my new skin translucent pale and my hair hanging messily around my face, wearing only my last clean shift. My hands and feet gripped the wood of the ladder in new ways, fingers and toes agile; my muscles felt like steel as I pounded across the short distance to hit Sulo in the chest and knock him over.
I kneeled over him, and I believe I growled like an animal as he stared up at me with astonishment. My eyes stung, and my lips drew back from my mouth, and only then did I see fear growing in his eyes.
It was satisfying.
He grabbed my arms. I endured his touch only because I knew what I was about to do.
After he was--done with--I went down to the water and washed in the cold water. I did not mind the cold as I once might have. I stripped off another ruined shift and washed it too, as best I could, and padded back to the barn with it still wet on my shoulders.
Franka was wrapping what remained of Sulo up on his own cape. I could see it staining through with red, despite her best efforts to contain it. "I have made more mess," I told her. "I apologize."
She jerked in surprise and spun back towards me, her jaw working. "Well. Well. Never you mind that now, girl." She looked frightened, and suddenly quite fragile, though Franka had always seemed a creature of unmovable wiry strength before. "I have his money-- We could... We could..."
I shook my head and put my head into my hands. "Look at me, mistress."
I cried for a little bit, then, but seeing my tears stained my hands red, I stopped, and wiped them on Sulo's cape, where they'd not stand out much from the rest.
Franka was a selfish old woman who never thought of me as anything more than a tool or, at best, a pet, but she had fed me and slept beside me, and I had learned from her the origins of things, and spells and secrets, and she'd never hit me without good reason, unless it was out of fear I might leave otherwise. She had said I was the only thing she had left; well, so she was the only thing I had, as well.
"I'll go-- I'll go," I said. "I'll find my way to the other side. You go on by yourself. The body can go in the water. They won't catch you for it, if you're careful, and go quick, go now."
And then Franka was crying again, sorry for herself and for her poverty. After a while of watching her I left, and walked out into the woods.
The woods did not seem so dark now. The shadows were not pools of blank ink, but rather pale blue and clear in my vision. Dark versus light. Living versus dead. Life-giver versus life-taker. Of course, it made sense.
Some steps into the treeline I began to run, leaping over moss-covered rocks and fallen tree-trunks, the heart in me beating slow, like a calling drum, the feel of Sulo's blood rushing into my muscles. It had not beaten at all, until I'd fed.
I ran and ran until I fell, still not tired but feeling the approach of dawn, and buried myself under the moss into the soft wet ground. There, I waited for the night to return, so I could run again, deeper into the endless forest, further on; to find my way to where I belonged.
no subject
no subject
no subject