Chrissy and Nessa - Chapter Seven - I Loved the Mess

"I feel so good right now," Nessa said as she sat in the front passenger seat of Chrissy's car. "I feel like I can do anything I want."

"But you can't," said Chrissy. "It's very important you learn to control your urges. Cravings for blood won't be as bad as you may think but the need to give in to your strength or your lack of empathy for others will be strong."

"I know. You told me this already."

"I know that but its it worth repeating. You maybe stronger and faster but all it takes is..."

"Is a stab or bullet to the heart. I know you told me this already."

"You forgot beheading," said Chrissy.

"Whatever," responded Nessa.

Chrissy sighed and continued driving. New pups were always a pain. Years of mythology and lore and they think they know everything. Chrissy learned very early that before turning anyone it was very important that they learned all the rules by heart. New pups had a tendency of making their nest vulnerable to hunters by making mistakes. A lesson Chrissy learned the hard way. A lesson that delayed Chrissy's efforts to start her own nest until now.

"Why are my pointy teeth wiggly?" asked Nessa.

Chrissy glanced over at her.

Nessa was wiggling her canine teeth with her index and thumb fingers on her right hand and pulling down and adjusting the mirror with her left.

"I told you Nessa," said Chrissy. "Those canines are going to fall out and new sharper fangs are going to grow in like these." Chrissy opened her mouth to show Nessa her sharp fangs.

"Oh my god," Nessa responded, twisting her face in disgust. "Those are gross."

"You can file them down if you want but you're going to need them."

"I bit that guys throat out with no problem," Nessa said with a shrug.

"I know but it took effort and left a mess."

"I liked the effort," said Nessa. "I loved the mess."

Chrissy glanced over at Nessa. Nessa was smiling a sadistic smile from ear to ear. Chrissy began to wonder if the sociopath like behavior was a part of Nessa's transformation or if she always was one. If so then Chrissy was now positive she made a huge mistake in turning Nessa.

End of Chapter Seven

Chuck Wendig - Flash Fiction Challenge - Why I Write

When I was in first grade one of our assignments was to write a children's book complete with illustrations. We had help from the fifth graders. We wrote the stories and drew the pictures and they helped turn it into an actual book. What came out of the project was a book about a burglar breaking into my house and being beaten up by my dad as well as an uncontrollable passion for writing.

After the book was finished the first thing I did when I got home from school was fold white construction papers in half and make my own books. Without the guidance of the fifth graders my stories lacked structure but they were exciting and fun to make. I let my imagination run wild and created some of the most fantastical creatures and tales I could come up with. That freedom to let my mind run wild and just create filled me with so much joy I couldn't stop. Ive been writing ever since.

Eventually through school including a minor in English from college I learned to structure those wild fantasies and create entertaining stories. Well I hope their entertaining. I can't seem to stop. I love stories. I love hearing them, seeing them, feeling them and more importantly creating them. I love stories of all genres but for some reason I love writing about heroism and fear. 

I love stories that take us out of our comfort zone and places we never thought we could go. I love sitting in my room and creating stories that take me to mythical worlds and introduce me to people who can't even exist yet due to the lack of technology and magic. I love creating stories that people lack the inability to imagine. It fills me with an insane amount of pleasure I can't seem to get anywhere else.

Why I write is because I simply need to. If I don't I won't be able to function. My imagination is a wild animal that can't be caged or domesticated. It needs to roam free in the world and devour the minds of all who come into contact with it. I'm a storyteller. It's my identity. Storytelling is my life. Writing makes me feel good. It keeps me in a good mood and put me in a good mood when I'm in a bad one. Writing is easy for me but it isn't easy to write.

Writing is challenging. It takes a long time to get the story out there and into the world. It takes many hours alone in my room. Staring at a computer screen or down at lines paper. It's a fun challenge though. It's an epic battle with the page to spin a yard that can inspire people for generations. That's what makes writing so precious. It's hard but if you work at it in the end you will have created something. Creating is beautiful. Especially when you feel you've earned it by putting the work in.

I love writing so much I do it for free. I don't need a paycheck to motivate me to sit down and create for hours. Payment would be nice but the satisfaction of knowing someone was entertained by my story is payment enough. It cost me nothing to create but time and effort. It would be great to write full time and not just when I'm free to. However, I don't want to ever feel like writing is my job. The day I feel like writing is a chore and I rather lay in bed is a day I fear. I don't know what I would do if writing stopped feeling like a passion and more like pain.

Writing makes me feel great that's why I write.

Chrissy and Nessa - Chapter Six - School Forever

"School?" Nessa asked. "We have to go to school?"

It was morning and Chrissy was placings Nessa's bloody clothes, including her black shoes and socks, into a black trash bag.

"Yes, school," said Chrissy. "It's important we fit in. Two fifteen year old girls not attending school is going to seem suspicious."

"But we'll be fifteen forever. Does that mean we'll have to go to high school forever?"

"Yes."

"Well that sucks."

Nessa sat naked in the bath tub washing away the remaining dry blood off her skin.

"What are you doing with my clothes?" asked Nessa.

"I need to burn them," said Chrissy.

"Your going to burn my clothes? Can't you just wash them?"

"Washing blood out of clothes is not easy."

"What are you going to do with the body?"

"I'm going to have to burn him too somewhere."

"You know whats strange. I don't feel guilty. I killed that guy and I don't even care. He probably has a wife. Maybe even some kids. This is so awesome."

"If you need clothes you can wear some of mine," said Chrissy.

Nessa turned and looked at Chrissy. Chrissy was wearing her usual blue jeans and plaid shirt. She was dressed like a trucker.

"No offense, Chrissy but I rather go to school naked. I have some spare clothes in my book bag."

"Fine. I'll go get them."

Chrissy entered the living room and opened Nessa's pink jeweled two strapped book bag. She pushed aside a two textbooks, a make up kit and a small designer purse and pulled out a pair of black stockings, a mini jean skirt, a red black and yellow stripped sweater and a pink blouse.

It was obvious to Chrissy that Nessa was high maintenance. She began to wonder if Nessa was the right person to spend and eternity with.

"Do you have to burn my shoes?" Nessa asked. "There my only pair and I got them on sale."

"You'll have to wear a pair of my sneakers until we pick up some clothes from your house."

"Fine," Nessa moaned. "Do you have any sneakers in yellow? They'll match perfect with my outfit."

End of Chapter Six

Chuck Wendig - Flash Fiction Challenge - The Random Song Title Jamboree

Bad Blood

"Looking for a date?" she asked him. That familiar line she spoke too many times rolling off her tongue with ease.

"Not me in particular," he responded. "But my employer. he has shall we say, very eccentric taste and he can use your services."

"How much does these services pay?"

He said. "At least 20 grand."

"Are you shitting me?"

Carrie never believed in things that sounded too good to be true. She had been around the block a few times and new to take things with a grain a salt.

She was middle aged dressed in the usual hooker attire with curly black hair, too much make up and a cheap fur coat. Her piercing blue eyes looked at him with suspicion.

"I can assure you miss. I'm speaking the truth."

"What's your name?" she asked.

"You can call me, Rothschild."

He had well groomed brown hair and an expensive looking black suit, a shiny platinum watch and glasses that seemed to sparkle in the moonlight. He wreaked of cologne but the premium kind.

She got into his car. Even though he gave her bad vibes. She didn't know what to think or say. He just drove for hours. He said nothing to her and she couldn't think of anything to say to him. Eventually she became bored. Her eyes began to weigh on her and she wanted to sleep. But she couldn't. You're vulnerable when you sleep, she kept reminding herself. Don't fall asleep.

She woke up in an empty room. No windows. No decor. No clothes. Nothing. She wasn't scared. She was just angry. Her current predicament wasn't surprising. She felt stupid for trusting him. This was supposed to be her big ticket. Her opportunity out. She should of trusted her instincts. But there was something about him. Something that felt honest.

Then a voice emerged from a speaker.

"Hello, darling. Are you confused? Are you scared?"

"Fuck you," she responded.

"Great answer, my dear. That's the one I was expecting," said the voice.

Then the voice disappeared. She stood there. Confused. But ready. Ready for whatever was coming next.

The only door in the room slid open and a figure entered. The figure was hard to make out at first then the lights switched on and what appeared was something she had never seen before.

It was a beast. Or a man. Both maybe. She couldn't quite tell. He was tall, smelly and fury.

"What the fuck is that?" she asked.

There was no response. The beast just stood there. He turned his head to the side like a confused puppy and continued slowly walking toward her. The closer he got the more she realized it was a man dressed in weird suit.

She began to do something she had never done before. She backed away. She wanted nothing to do with this man. Whatever sick intent he had for her she wanted no part in.

"No. Come on," the voice said. "This is not what I expected from you. honey. you're supposed to be tough. A true bad ass. Don't tell me your afraid of a little furry love."

"Fuck you!" she responded.

"Why don't you direct that attitude towards my friend. He loves that kind of talk. Mr Tiggles, why don't you show our new gal pal how much you like that kind of talk?"

Mr. Tiggles then began to remove the bottom half of his costume. Revealing his human legs and very human member.

She looked at him disgusted. Even absent of the fury costume he was still incredibly furry down there.

"This is fucking weird. I want out of here right now, goddammit!" she said.

"Oh come on, sweetie," said the voice. "Don't be like that. I paid good money for you to come here and play with my friend. Why don't you do your job and play along with us?"

"I said I want out. You can take your twenty grand and shove it up your ass!"

"Well I'm sorry to hear that, honey but its too late to back out now. We had a deal."

"My name is Carrie. I'm not your fucking honey. And I said I want out."

"Mr. Tiggles, can you do me a favor and show Carrie a good time? She needs to relax."

Mr Tiggles screamed and charged after Carrie. Carrie raised her foot and kicked Mr. Tiggles straight in his crotch.

Mr. Tiggles screamed again at a much higher pitch and dropped to the ground, grabbing his privates. He removed his mask revealing a middle aged balding man.

"Well that was very anti climatic," said the voice.

Carrie slowly awoke in Rothschild's car. He focused on the road as he drove Carrie close to wear he picked he up at.

Carrie felt her body and noticed a lump in her pocket. She pulled out a bundle of cash.

"I wouldn't go flashing that around if I were you, Carrie. Would you like me to drive you home instead. I can make sure you make it in safely."

"Like I want you sadist knowing where I live."

"Alright, Ms. Carrie. This is your stop then."

Rothschild pulled over to the street corner Carrie is all to familiar with.

"What's that guys deal anyway?

"What guy, Ms. Carrie?"

"The voice."

"I don't know. Some people just have bad blood."

Carrie slammed the car door shut.

Rothschild watched from his rear view mirror as Carrie walked away in the distance, clutching her cheap fur coat.

The End

Chrissy and Nessa - Chapter Five - What's Next?

After the horrid screams of the man finally stopped Nessa emerged from the room covered in blood.

A large blood stain covered the front of her white sweater jacket and dripped down her black mini skirt. Her teeth and mouth were covered in blood and she has a wide smile on her face as if she had just had the experience of a lifetime.

"That was fucking fun," said Nessa.

She removed a pink scrunchy from her long black pony tail and shook her hair out.

"I feel like a new woman." She walked over to Chrissy and looked into her green eyes. "Whats next?"

End of Chapter Five

Chrissy and Nessa - Chapter Four - Let's Take This into the Other Room

The man followed Chrissy into her house with a brown paper bag and a six pack of beer.

"Are you parents home?" The man asked.

"No," responded Chrissy.

"Where's your kitchen?"

"Down the hall and to the right."

Chrissy watched as the man entered her kitchen. She could hear him ripping two beers from the six pack and placing the rest in the fridge.

When the man came back he was wearing a huge smile on his face and carrying a can of beer in each hand.

"You want one?" asked the man.

"Sure." said Chrissy.

Chrissy smiled and grabbed a beer from the casually dressed man with graying hair in his mid 40s.

"You want to sit down?" Chrissy asked, forcing a smile.

"Sure," the man said.

As they sat down in front of the television the man glanced over to the kitchen. "How come you don't have any food in there?"

"What do you mean?"

"Food. You don't have any in your kitchen."

"I haven't gone shopping yet."

The man smiled and put his arm over Chrissy's shoulder.

"This is nice," he said.

Chrissy smiled and flipped through the television channels.

The man stared at Chrissy for a beat and placed his beer down on the coffee table in front of him. With his left arm still over Chrissy's shoulder he reached over with his right hand and placed it over Chrissy's left thigh.

The man looked into Chrissy's eyes and smiled.

Chrissy glanced back at the man. Despite being an obvious perv the man wasn't ugly. He had a well built body, chiseled features, hazel eyes and a slight dimple in his chin. His graying black hair made him look classy and distinguished not old. If Chrissy had a type maybe it would be him.

Chrissy had to remind herself that tonight wasn't about pleasure it was about survival.

As the man closed in for a kiss Chrissy whispered to him, "Let's take this into the other room."

"Which one?" he whispered back.

"That one," Chrissy said, pointing to the one Nessa was currently turning.

End of Chapter Four