Untouched by Clocks

The Trick

     Pop-pop. He received a slap on the back that made him jump forward slightly, "That's my boy!" The gruff voice praised him. "And that's how it works, all you have to focus on is the circulation of the veins and you know you do it right when that sound echoes through your ears."

     He gave a slight upward tilt of his mouth to his father, "Yeah, cool." But his eyes never left the body spilling a deep red life force from it's skull, crying tears of blood. He had exploded the man's brain from the inside out, his eyes too. Making blood overflow the skull and cause pressure you would experience at the bottom of the sea. He had done it with his mind, not even a lift of his finger.

     The dark eye winked, "It makes it easier to prey and feed that way, instead of dulling the fangs." His father taped a long yellowing canine.

     Alex still kept his gaze on the body. It was a man in his mid-life, not even fifty, he could smell it. He was a heavy coffee drinker, probably quite smoking a year or two ago. Their was a tint of alcohol that gave it a tangy smell. The smell of his blood. The reeking smell that hung over the three beings like some fog. Humans couldn't smell it, or feel it, but he could. The man had done nothing, just wandered in the wrong place at  the right time.

     "Aren't we," he trailed off towards his father. The tall dark man turned towards his son with similar stature, "Going to... you know, feed?" Alex shrugged, a pale hand gesturing towards the bleeding corpse.

     His father laughed loudly like it was some kind of sick joke. And to him it was, but not to Alex. "No! No, no, no, no. That's like junk food to the system, son. I've got something better back at Sanctuary." the man once again turned and began walking towards the doorway.

     "Oh," he mouthed, hesitantly heading to follow behind his father. He looked back at the body, "I'm sorry." He thought. The overbearing thought he spilt innocent blood and wasn't even going to use it sickened him.

     He didn't want to do it. He never wanted to do it again. It made his hands shake, his throat go dry and ache, making him thirsty in a strange way. Not like the way you wanted water, it was almost like acid sizzled at the back of your throat, parching it like you had too much salt and no liquid to wash it down. It made him feel dangerous in an angry kind of way, like fight or flight. It made him tense, like a predator cat ready to pounce. It didn't feel good. He didn't like this new feeling, even if it gave him such energy and disgusting thrill. The way the vibrations of the last heartbeat of the man slithered through his spine, the way his father's mouth curled upward in gross approval. It made his stomach heavy, like a heavy boulder had lodged itself down in there after his dry saliva would trickle down his throat, trying to swallow away the burn.

     In an attempt to get rid of the bile tasting acid in his parched throat he cleared it. In expectation the form before him turned around, thinking he wanted to say something. Alex looked up in surprise. "Yes?"

    He was expected to say something, to always say something. He couldn't make a mistake, so awkwardly he uttered a random sentence, "Not hungry." But his throat didn't feel like making audible sounds, so it came out as a dry croak, "Hungry." He cleared it again, "I mean, I'm not. I'm not hungry."

      A black eyebrow arched up, like he was suspecting something different, "Really? After seeing all that blood you aren't hungry?" The lightly tinted with English voice asked smoothly. It made Alex think of a snake. Alex shrugged and itched the back of his neck.

     "Not really, no. I actually kind of feel a little full, like I lost my appitite." Again his throat betrayed him and tried to clear the acid.

     His father looked like he knew better, but with a slight sigh he turned, "Alright, be back at the sanctuary before your sunscreen wears off." A pale hand waved and he walked out of the warehouse.

     Once the pressuring presence of his father left Alex felt jittery and a little cold in the metal warehouse. His teeth started to chatter and he quickly left the scene of the dead man. It gave him worse shivers. Shoving his hands into his black jeans he sauntered out into the sunlight.