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(Page 2 of 2) Hunger and thirst by Federico Patané
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He shook, adrenaline pumping into all of his body. The man was fighting desperately for his life.
Tom then went to sit at the table carrying the platter with him. His hunger almost in control of all his actions. He smiled. And then he hated himself for smiling. This was not supposed to be a happy moment. Tom was determined to see it through, so he sunk his teeth in the raw flesh. It was still warm and wet. The man's sweat made it a little salty. The taste filled his mouth and took over his senses. The hunger was being satisfied, and with it a sense of completion filled him with peace.
But it was in this point that the ritual had changed. Tom needed to satisfy yet one more desire. The thirst came strong over the calm as he looked at his victim. Still very alive and conscious, still fighting to get free and unable to comprehend what was coming next.
Tom was a very neat monster. Tidy, patient, dedicated and almost obsessively clean. But the most important of all his qualities was the complete and utter lack of conscience. These where the reasons he was chosen to become a vampire. All the wrong reasons.
He left the remains of the arm on the table. There was not much left, but he had eaten enough. He approached the man slowly and walked around him. Then he brought a chair and set it behind him. Tom sat, his head right on the man's neck. He inhaled the man scent and closed his eyes to enjoy the flavor.
"Don't worry." Tom whispered into the man's ear. "This will be all over soon, and you will suffer no longer."
Tom placed his hands on the man's shoulders and steadied him. His teeth sunk slowly on the man's neck, piercing the jugular and making the blood pour out into Tom's mouth. He drank.
When the man fainted Tom stopped. Death would come soon for the man and his thirst had been satisfied. He was now both calm and peaceful.
Before becoming a vampire he would have cleaned and disposed of the body, but there was no need for that now. Tom would even enjoy reading about it in the newspaper the next day.
So He left. To sleep and rest. To hide from the garish sun. Until the hunger and the thirst began fighting over him again.
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