“What you got there Jimmy?”
“Guava juice mate.”
“Guava juice! You’re drinking guava juice! Please tell me you’re joking.”
“It’s no joke Billy. I’m telling you mate, this stuff is dynamite. You should try it, amazing stuff it is. One glass of this and the women in this place will be all over me. Watch.”
Billy stood and watched as his friend knocked the drink back in one go. Within minutes blood oozed from his eyes and ears. Every woman in the place, young and old, turned and stared at him. Then, in a wild frenzy, they charged, fangs glistening.
Day 11 of my Drabble Project (100 x 100 word stories in the month of October).
He was a fanatic, of that there was no doubt. There were some that openly admired him, thought he was right to hang on to the old ways, keep alive our heritage, our traditions but they were few in number. The majority of us though, thought he was just plain crazy. We’d moved on, adapted to the modern age in which we lived. Something he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, do. While we happily got our daily intake of blood in four litre cartons from the local supermarket he insisted on staying true to the old ways – hunting humans late at night.
“I’m telling you Billy it’ll be fine. Trust me. Look what it’s done for me. I feel great!”
I’m not sure Jimmy. I mean, ‘immortality’, that’s a lot to get your head round. What if we get bored with it?”
“You won’t mate, honest. The bloke who introduced me to it said it was absolutely marvellous.”
“But won’t it hurt Jimmy. You know what I’m like. I don’t do pain very well. Not since that episode with the dentist.”
“Trust me my friend, this will be nothing like the dentist, you’ll hardly notice it. A little bite on the neck, followed by a few minutes of light-headedness, then you’ll feel wonderful. Now, are you ready or not?”
sharp fangs owner
red blood dribbler
no shadow caster
This poem is made up of ‘kennings’ and is based on the poem below called ‘I Am Hamster’
He was a fanatic, of that there was no doubt. Some, secretly admired him, others thought him crazy. Most of us had moved on, adapted to the modern age in which we lived, but not him. While we happily got our daily intake of blood in four litre cartons from the local supermarket he insisted on staying true to the old ways – hunting humans at night.