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"Mother's Milk," my contribution to horror fiction in Writer's corner.Feb 13 '08 (Updated Aug 26 '08) Write an essay on this topic.
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The Bottom Line "Mother's Milk" is a horror story I decided to share when I was browsing through writer's corner. Nothing else to say really.
The following is not a review. This is an original short story I penned in 1992. Several years later when I was actively marketing my stories I found a home for the story with a mid-sized horror publication. Due to several problems this particular story was never published. I am always amazed at the new material and categories I find at E-pinions. I recently found the poetry and fiction section and read quite a bit of it. I happened to have this story all typed up and decided to share. MOTHER'S MILK (c) 1992 by Tim E Singleton He thought of her as he walked briskly along on the bleak wet pavement of one of the Chicago streets now so familiar to him. Gray and grim, puddle with rain, and anointed with the garbage and petroleum that always intermingled in a large town, these streets had long ago lost their charm. He supposed he had once liked it well enough but it had turned into a cold and lonely place long ago. He had remained here only because it did not seem likely that another city would be any better. Certainly, the people would not like him better anywhere else! He was not the type of individual one longed to happen across on a dark and secluded night. At least this was the case until almost a year ago. He thought of that day back in November and felt overwhelmed. For centuries he had walked alone, decades of those years spent in this one city, afraid to associate, separated from humanity by a secret so dark and ugly that it made normal relationships seem impossible. And Blake’s hard, calloused, care-worn face actually broke a delicate smile when he thought of Sherry. She had been a fifteen-year resident of Chicago when they had happened across each-other at an Indian restaurant and bar that had sprung up a few years ago where a small apartment building had been torn down. The place was new and beautiful and served up spicy, yet delicately flavored dishes that made even Blake’s cynical senses spring to life. It was his favorite restaurant. She was only thirty, yet her appearance was a showcase of both youth and sorrow that instantly told him she’d lead a difficult life. Her face was alabaster pale and was framed by a delicate draping of dark-blonde hair. He lips were a dark red. And, even from across the room, his superior sight caught the glint that danced like a flame in her green eyes. It was only the turned-down corners of her delicate mouth and the crease that knitted in her fine brow that that told him there was a history of sadness…perhaps even hopelessness in this beautiful face. He casually approached her, introducing himself as a long-time local who could recommend some of the best entrées. He would also like to order a red wine for the beautiful lady and talk for a few minutes before he leftt. He would have to be at work soon. The smile that came over her had framed her face in a rose-tinted halo that moved him deeply. “Please sit down for a few minutes,” she said. “It was so sweet of you to order for me. I confess I have never been here before.” He had felt this way few times in his life and the last time had been long ago. Relationships were impossible for someone like him. The differences were too extreme. He could not go out and enjoy the daylight with his loved ones. He could not share in their optimism and joy. He was too old . He had seen too many friends and lovers dry up like rotting fruit and whither while he remained the same, forever middle-aged and reasonably youthful. Yes, he knew what the future would hold at some point, yet he had known when he met Sherry that it was time again… time to lead another double life, time to share a life while bearing his dark secret and praying his love would never find out. She had captivated him. They had sat for hours that night and talked. It seemed he’d known her forever. He even learned the reason for the disturbing countenance of sorrow that was always present on her face, lying quietly just under the surface even as she smiled and spoke. Sherry’s mother had died in a car accident when she was only three. She and her father had remained in Kansas City until she was fifteen and he had been offered a promotion and substantial raise if he would move to Chicago. There, she had made new friends, gone to art school and lived happily until she’d spent six months watching her father be eaten from the inside out by lung cancer. Yes, Sherry was different. She had seen much pain and yet she was able to enjoy her life. He could tell that by the way she threw her head back and laughed, from the way that her smooth skin and brilliant eyes still gleamed as she brought the wine glass to her ruby lips. Sherry was an old soul. She could deal with their differences. He had almost reached the medical supply facility where he worked now. It was just another non-descript building on a featureless street, but he had been a night guard there for a long time. This wasn’t because he needed to work. It merely provided a cover, offered an easy explanation for why he had to be out at night and in bed by day. This was especially true now that he’d married Sherry. He would avoid or, at least delay, telling her the truth. Even if she did not reject him it would be difficult for her. He would spare her that if he could. In reality, he only worked a couple of nights a week. But he had told Sherry that he worked six and sometimes seven nights a week. It gave him that reason to be gone at night. And besides…there were other things vampires had to do at night besides work. With all the winos and homeless people about town it was not terribly difficult for him to feed, but he had always feared getting caught. • * * * * What a joy she was. Many times he left for work so late that she had already gone to bed. Most nights he would stand by the window and look at her sleeping body. He’d gaze at the total peacefulness that came over her as she slept in the glow of the moonlight. Most of all, he found great peace and happiness in a quantity that he had never known as he looked upon her growing belly. He was filled with pride to see the flush of color and health that the pregnancy had brought to Sherry’s face. Soon they would have a child, and life would be better for both of them than either of them had ever thought possible. Sherry had her painting to keep her busy and was able to exhibit it frequently in art shows around town. Not long ago, she had even gone to show some of her work in a mid-sized but well-established gallery in New York. With the addition of a lover and children she would be very happy now. And Blake was no longer alone. These things were all that mattered to him. His misery seemed to be coming to an end or, at the very least, a remission. He was bidding good riddance to a very long and lonely life, the years in his young adulthood spent hopping from city to city because of youthful indiscretions (biting people who were too well-known or too cared-about and nearly getting found out), the decades of slogging about in this miserable city without anyone to share his life with. Yes, soon there would be the baby, an occurrence that had genuinely surprised him! He was not sure a vampire COULD father children. It was so rare and unheard of that he had filed the idea away with tales of Bigfoot and the Easter Bunny. But he had never been certain; he had always hoped that there would be a child. And yes, it had happened. It was not impossible. Soon, there would be a baby and he would continue to keep his secret, just as he’d done since he himself had been turned by another foul creature many years ago while hunting in the secluded woods of Northern Indiana. He thought of how beautiful she looked once again as he left the apartment. He would not be working this night, but Sherry knew no different. He was hungry and it was time to feed. He’d told her that he was working guard duty just as he did every night. Since he worked alone, if she phoned the store there was never anyone on the other end to dispute his story. She hardly ever called work anyway. Sherry trusted him. It was one of the things he loved about her. Sometimes he wondered if this was all a dream, if he had been incredibly naïve to think happiness was his… • * * * * And then the twins came. There were not one but two of the precious children. They were as perfect and as sublime as he could ever have dared to hope, pale white and blonde like their mother. Both boy and girl had their mother's disarming smile and charm. The only evidence that Blake had participated in their creation was the warm hazel eyes that were unmistakably like his own. On this night too he wandered the streets in search of prey, but it was not the somber event that it usually was. Tonight he thought only of his wife and the twins and of their birth in the middle of the night to a hospital full of workers. They were both normal and gorgeous. They were everything Blake himself was not. Blake had pampered Sherry and fussed over the babies like an excited child. And in a sense, he really was a child; he was embarking on a brand new life. He went to the car and changed his clothes and was oh so careful before he entered the apartment building to see that he was not messy and that his activities would not be questioned. He smoothed his jacket, adjusted his shirt and held out the bouquet of yellow roses he’d purchased early in the night. Yellow was her favorite color. Blake entered the apartment an hour before sunrise, turned to the kitchen to get a vase and thought better of it. He would just go on in and show her the roses, and watch her eyes and her smile as she awoke. Most of all, he could not wait to see the babies. He almost screamed when he entered the bedroom, dropping his flowers and putting a hand to his mouth. Sherry was there, lying on her back on the bed with the twins lying to either side of her. Her face was pale blue, her eyes dark and ghastly. The babies, with their bulging stomachs, virtually purred as they moved about on top of her, nuzzling her flesh with their mouths and extended fingers, slurping at her skin with fangs and tongues. Sherry’s nipples were red and swollen. They had oozed blood from dozens of puncture wounds and the blood had been quickly cleared away by the nursing twins flickering tongues. There were bites all over the pale blue skin of her breasts that continued all the way to her neck. The only consolation, perhaps, was that Sherry had never awakened as the babies began to nurse and slowly bit into her to take nourishment from that fluid that meant so much more to them than milk. They moved about and whimpered pleasantly. To Blake’s horror, it seemed that one of them looked up and caught his eye…and smiled.  |
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