REVENGE
05 February 2008, 04:06 AM
To The Last Drop
- Lindsey
Extremely short story I wrote out of boredom. Once again starring Gerard Way, only because to me he seems like the 'vampire' type.
The blood dripped from the young man’s hands and onto the ground, staining leaves and strands of grass a deep crimson – it gave the earth an evil gleam that was unmatched by any horror movie. What was still painted on his skin he licked clean, and then wiped the moisture left behind on his jeans with a soft expression – an expression of guilt, happiness, and disappointment all at the same time. He was guilty for draining the life of a young boy who had done no wrong to him – had just been at the wrong place at the wrong time when the man’s bloodthirsty senses had taken over his body. The man was happy, because the blood always caused a smile to be printed upon his pale face, whether he really held meaning inside of it or not. And the man was extremely disappointed in himself – disgusted, really. He kept telling himself that he should’ve done better, should’ve taken control and gotten out of the park, that he should’ve never f---ing let it happen to the little boy.
But in honesty, what choices had been laid out for him? The man hadn’t chosen to be like this. He hadn’t chosen this life, as a vampire – it had been given to him regardless of his feelings toward it. The true fact of the matter, was that Gerard had in fact started to enjoy himself – living forever had, in the beginning at least, been an extremely tantalizing temptation. After all, he still had his human emotions – and it was only human to sometimes want to never have to face the void of death, of darkness, of the unknown.
Now, however, as Gerard looked over at the small red bike that was lying on the ground next to the pale, dead little boy, he realized that none of it was truly worth it. If taking innocent lives was the cost of immortality, he would rather do without. He could keep telling himself that he couldn’t control his actions when his thirst became too great; he could continue blaming it on the raging beast that now living within him, ever growing and squirming, wanting more and more as it killed the original Gerard Way in the process. But the truth was that although this was all true, that he couldn’t control it, there had always been a way of stopping it even from the very beginning.
The red bike seemed to be mocking him, torturing him as he looked at it more closely and remembered the young boy who had sat upon it; small race car stickers had been placed on it in various places, along with a baseball card clipped to one of the back wheel spokes with a clothespin. Now that his thirst was satiated, Gerard could remember the look of the boy’s face as he had raced blissfully down the old almost abandoned park trail, leaves flying up behind him as he went. A smile of pure happiness only saw in amazingly simple childhood moments had been painted on his face, and there was no doubt that the boy had been having one of those very moments right before Gerard had attacked him. A moment that would’ve been looked back upon in times of sadness to invoke a small smirk or smile in a time of sadness later in the boy’s life as he entered adulthood.
But now he would never enter adulthood; he would never get married; he would never have children; and he would never have another blissful carefree day of riding his blessed bike down an all but forgotten road. Gerard felt tears run from his eyes and caress his cheeks as all of this suddenly hit him with a hard hitting blow in the side – what had he done? As all of that inevitable detail entered his mind, he could only think of himself as a monster – as a killer, not only of lives, but of hopes and dreams as well.
Gerard’s fate had been decided by the feeling of disgust he felt for himself, and as he thought on about the idea, the fate of impending death neither brought dread nor fear – it was exactly what he wanted. He walked over to the bike that was still lying innocently in the grass and gripped the back wheel, then mustering all the force he could bear, tore one of the spokes from the inside. This jolted the card and clothespin – they fell the to ground, in almost a symbolic fashion, but Gerard paid them no notice.
Walking in a manner that suggested both purpose and determination, he walked across the park and into the small patch of untamed wilderness beside it, making his way through the trees to a place he knew would serve it’s purpose well. The old well had been in this part of Adilay Park since Gerard could remember as a small boy when the park had been thriving, and he assumed that it had been there far longer than that. He strode over to it, and looked into its depths – nothing but darkness. The rocks outlining the above ground part of the well were falling in and were covered in moss, as was the small A shaped roof that was capped with rusted tin that had apparently blown over and fell off to the side.
Gerard stepped up to the well, then turned to face away from it – he took a deep breath, though it was no longer needed – and then drove the spoke deep into his chest where he thought his black heart lie, letting the discolored blood run into his hands and soak into his black t-shirt. Then, with a look of pain upon his face, he let his knees unbuckle and send him tumbling into the well – the thoughts of the young boy still floating within his draining thoughts.
- Lindsey
Extremely short story I wrote out of boredom. Once again starring Gerard Way, only because to me he seems like the 'vampire' type.
The blood dripped from the young man’s hands and onto the ground, staining leaves and strands of grass a deep crimson – it gave the earth an evil gleam that was unmatched by any horror movie. What was still painted on his skin he licked clean, and then wiped the moisture left behind on his jeans with a soft expression – an expression of guilt, happiness, and disappointment all at the same time. He was guilty for draining the life of a young boy who had done no wrong to him – had just been at the wrong place at the wrong time when the man’s bloodthirsty senses had taken over his body. The man was happy, because the blood always caused a smile to be printed upon his pale face, whether he really held meaning inside of it or not. And the man was extremely disappointed in himself – disgusted, really. He kept telling himself that he should’ve done better, should’ve taken control and gotten out of the park, that he should’ve never f---ing let it happen to the little boy.
But in honesty, what choices had been laid out for him? The man hadn’t chosen to be like this. He hadn’t chosen this life, as a vampire – it had been given to him regardless of his feelings toward it. The true fact of the matter, was that Gerard had in fact started to enjoy himself – living forever had, in the beginning at least, been an extremely tantalizing temptation. After all, he still had his human emotions – and it was only human to sometimes want to never have to face the void of death, of darkness, of the unknown.
Now, however, as Gerard looked over at the small red bike that was lying on the ground next to the pale, dead little boy, he realized that none of it was truly worth it. If taking innocent lives was the cost of immortality, he would rather do without. He could keep telling himself that he couldn’t control his actions when his thirst became too great; he could continue blaming it on the raging beast that now living within him, ever growing and squirming, wanting more and more as it killed the original Gerard Way in the process. But the truth was that although this was all true, that he couldn’t control it, there had always been a way of stopping it even from the very beginning.
The red bike seemed to be mocking him, torturing him as he looked at it more closely and remembered the young boy who had sat upon it; small race car stickers had been placed on it in various places, along with a baseball card clipped to one of the back wheel spokes with a clothespin. Now that his thirst was satiated, Gerard could remember the look of the boy’s face as he had raced blissfully down the old almost abandoned park trail, leaves flying up behind him as he went. A smile of pure happiness only saw in amazingly simple childhood moments had been painted on his face, and there was no doubt that the boy had been having one of those very moments right before Gerard had attacked him. A moment that would’ve been looked back upon in times of sadness to invoke a small smirk or smile in a time of sadness later in the boy’s life as he entered adulthood.
But now he would never enter adulthood; he would never get married; he would never have children; and he would never have another blissful carefree day of riding his blessed bike down an all but forgotten road. Gerard felt tears run from his eyes and caress his cheeks as all of this suddenly hit him with a hard hitting blow in the side – what had he done? As all of that inevitable detail entered his mind, he could only think of himself as a monster – as a killer, not only of lives, but of hopes and dreams as well.
Gerard’s fate had been decided by the feeling of disgust he felt for himself, and as he thought on about the idea, the fate of impending death neither brought dread nor fear – it was exactly what he wanted. He walked over to the bike that was still lying innocently in the grass and gripped the back wheel, then mustering all the force he could bear, tore one of the spokes from the inside. This jolted the card and clothespin – they fell the to ground, in almost a symbolic fashion, but Gerard paid them no notice.
Walking in a manner that suggested both purpose and determination, he walked across the park and into the small patch of untamed wilderness beside it, making his way through the trees to a place he knew would serve it’s purpose well. The old well had been in this part of Adilay Park since Gerard could remember as a small boy when the park had been thriving, and he assumed that it had been there far longer than that. He strode over to it, and looked into its depths – nothing but darkness. The rocks outlining the above ground part of the well were falling in and were covered in moss, as was the small A shaped roof that was capped with rusted tin that had apparently blown over and fell off to the side.
Gerard stepped up to the well, then turned to face away from it – he took a deep breath, though it was no longer needed – and then drove the spoke deep into his chest where he thought his black heart lie, letting the discolored blood run into his hands and soak into his black t-shirt. Then, with a look of pain upon his face, he let his knees unbuckle and send him tumbling into the well – the thoughts of the young boy still floating within his draining thoughts.