by Amanda Long
“IT IS NOT YOUR TIME,” God whispered in Dorian's mind.
Angered by His lack of intervention, Dorian spat his words back. “Not my time? That's painfully obvious, isn't it, Father? How can You allow me to stay a monster? As one of Your chosen, I gave my life to You, and this is how You thank me? Fine then! You win. I will be a monster. From this moment on, if You're not going to cure me or let me die, then please, stay out of my head.”
After spitting his rant, Dorian blazed through the night shrieking. Brambles and thorns shredded his skin and clothes as he traveled deeper into the forest, leaving behind a trail of blood and fabric.
Utterly exhausted from his stabbing frenzy and rampage through the forest, he collapsed. When he rose from his bed of rotting leaves, he unleashed the animal within; razor sharp fangs protruded from his upper and lower gums, lethal claws tipped the ends of each finger, and eyes, once blue, turned red to match his rage and blood lust. Gone was the young man destined to follow in his father's footsteps. In his place stood a creature whose sole purpose was to feed his growing thirst for life's essence.
It didn't take Dorian long to realize that embracing his new life as a monster would prove harder than he thought. His first kill had been purely instinctual. Now that he needed to kill, he was lost. He hadn't been taught how to be a hunter. Father Murphy had an aversion to the hunting and killing of animals. Fishing, however, was another story. He would say, “Fish have a choice to bite or not. Now, deer and such don't have a choice to be shot, do they?”
As Dorian sat cross-legged in a small clearing, he pondered how to kill. Several pairs of eyes shone in the distance, but he wasn't confident, he would be fast enough to catch them.
Luckily, he didn't need to ponder long over how to kill. The fresh blood clinging to his body soon attracted plenty of practice. The first creature was a coyote.
First, Dorian noticed the eyes moving toward him, the soft sound of padded feet stealthy nearing, and finally, the smell of wet fur mixed with dried blood from its previous kills. Anxious to feed his thirst, he bolted toward the coyote as it emerged from the tree line. Within a few feet, he leaped at the beast but fell short, landing face first into the firmly packed earth. As he rose from his failure, he stomped the ground in anger. He laughed maniacally as he tossed the handful of fur clutched in his hand; the only reward for his effort.
Placing the blame for his predicament solely on who he felt abandoned him, he expressed his discontent readily. “So, God, You won't let me die, but I don't have the skills to survive either. Do You want me to starve? Maybe You just want me to suffer? But aren't You supposed to be merciful? Where is Your Mercy, Father? Your Love? Why do You continue to forsake me?” Dorian screamed, throwing his hands up in disgust before continuing to sulk quietly in the black of night.
Near dawn, he found an outcropping of rock to protect himself from daylight. Lying underneath, he had just closed his eyes when he heard the familiar sound of padded feet. This time, he played possum. Remaining perfectly still, he felt a cold nose graze his upper arm. Peeking through squinted lids, he lunged as the coyote attempted to take its first bite of an easy meal.
“Yelp!”
Grasping the animal around the throat, he snapped its neck with a quick twist. Not desiring a mouthful of matted fur, he sliced open the creature’s neck with one of his claws. Cupping under the gash, he let the hot blood fill his hands. Before lifting them to his mouth to drink, he gazed up to the heavens. “This is for you, Father,” he toasted
Drinking the blood was intoxicating. He leaned back on the rocks, relishing the sensation.
*****
For weeks, Dorian played possum to attract his kills. Smearing the blood of his last victim on his own body, he would lie in wait for the next unsuspecting scavenger. Eventually tiring from playing the part of the prey, he switched tactics. Masking his scent with the blood of his victims, he climbed up nearby trees to pounce on his next meal. The stench of each rotting carcass stung his nostrils, forcing him to relocate to another section of forest after each kill. Soon, half the forest was littered with corpses in various states of decay; transforming the lush landscape into a massive graveyard.
Dorian hoped each life taken was a slap in God’s Face; payback for His betrayal. Although proud of his handiwork thus far, just killing God's Creatures wasn't enough. He wanted to tear down EVERYTHING God had made.
“Thou art worthy, O Lord, to receive glory and honor and power: for thou hast created all things, and for thy pleasure they are and were created,” Dorian mockingly recited Revelation 4:11. “Ha! Here's a revelation of my own. Since You have turned Your Back on me, Father, I will defile Your Creation for the rest of my existence. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth; one betrayal for another, it will be my pleasure to destroy all that You have created, because I deem You unworthy. I will turn this entire forest into a wasteland – a Hell on earth.”
Desiring to cause as much suffering as possible, Dorian stopped slaughtering and instead, maimed to feed his hunger and hatred, blessing his victims with slow, painful deaths. Wanting to destroy all of God's Creations, he didn't just target God's animals. All life in the forest felt Dorian's wrath. Using his razor sharp claws, he sliced through tree after tree, just enough for them to slowly wither.
“How do you like the dark transformation of this forest, Father? I find it a mediocre representation of my own. I'm sure I'll get it right though, because I'm not going to stop. Do You hear me? I'm NEVER going to stop!”
For months, he continued his destruction of God's Creations, turning the forest into the living hell he promised. Seeing this last attempt to put an end to his misery was a failure, he spoke to God one last time.
“I hoped that by committing these sins and mocking Your Name, You would have the nerve to strike me down. However, I can plainly see that You care not for any of Your Creations, especially me. From this moment on, I will no longer speak to You, or even speak Your Name. You are as dead to me as I am apparently dead to You.”
Dorian stalked away, deeper into seclusion, turning his back completely on everything and everyone he had faith in. He knew he would survive; he didn't have a choice. He resolved himself with the knowledge that he was destined for a sorrowful, meaningless existence for all of eternity – God's apparent reward for his love and life of service.
Chapter 4
Not Alone
Thomas stood in the shadow of an ash tree dressed head to toe in black, checking on the progress of who he had dubbed 'the stray' or 'It'. Unfortunately, the progress was pretty much nonexistent.
He has strayed so far from his potential.
Lacking all the comforts he was accustomed to, he absolutely despised these far too frequent trips to the wilderness.
I need a bath, or some alcohol, or a cigarette – maybe all three at the same time – anything to help take my mind of this pathetic place and that miserable excuse for an enhanced being. Why am I even here anyway? This is such a waste of my time.
Thomas possessed a deficient attention span which he considered both a blessing and a curse. Not able to stay for more than a few hours at a time, he had probably not even invested a whole week to his observation of the stray over the past six months. However, that was plenty to see that ‘It’ was on a continuous downward spiral.
Ruminating over all he had seen, revealed quite a few lackluster periods mixed with fleeting of promise. Those were just enough to warrant his returns. Thomas was shocked by how long it took for the blood lust to take hold. He would become excited when 'It' fed on the rabbit, but then the weeping and pleading with God made him want to vomit. The failed suicide attempt was glorious – all the pain, anger and blood. Following the trail of blood and fabric left in the wake of this failed attempt lead him to the sacred place where the stray finally unleashed his true self.
All the murder and violence he committed after that sent chills down my spine. I thought for sure my wait was over, that he had finally let go of his forme
r human existence, but no, he still clung to his morality. He had only committed those beautiful acts to tempt God into retribution. So sad…and here we are now, wandering the forest, desolate, no purpose. I don’t know how much more I can watch. I'd hoped the stray would come around on his own.
Finally coming to terms that his stray had plateaued, Thomas decided to make himself known. After six long months of slinking around in the shadows of the forest, covering up his masculine beauty, the time had come for the big reveal.
Before emerging out of the shadows, he removed his hat, unleashing mounds of chin length, sandy blonde waves. Next, his shades were removed to expose his amber eyes. He figured without his camouflage, the stray would register his presence; however, he didn't budge.
Not until Thomas' body was fully removed from the shadows did Dorian finally notice. Hunched over almost on all fours, he eyed the stranger in his forest wearily. His muscles constricted, prepping to propel him toward the stranger, thinking he was finally being tempted with a human.
Before he could react, Thomas threw up his hand to show he was unarmed. “Whoa there, Killer! Look, I'm like you.” He pointed to his extended fangs.
Dorian hesitated, and then ran his tongue over his own fangs in confirmation. He struggled for a few moments to find his voice, having no need for it in months. “What exactly am I?” He asked the stranger, still poised to strike.
“You, my dear, are an enhanced species known as vampire. I can explain much more, if you could kindly lower your guard? I'm not dressed for a fight.” Thomas held his arms outstretched to show he still meant no harm.
Dorian was unsure he could trust this stranger, but he relented and stood erect.
“That’s better, isn’t it? We can now converse like civilized beings.” Thomas slowly paced back and forth in front of Dorian, not taking his eyes off him.
He may not look like much, but I better not let my guard down.
“My name is Thomas, by the way, and you?”
Dorian was taken aback by the questioning of his name. It had been so long since he had heard the word spoken aloud. “Dorian,” he sputtered, “my name is Dorian.”
Thomas extended his right hand out to him Dorian, who hesitatingly returned the gesture, making physical contact with someone for the first time in six months. “Nice to meet you, Dorian.”
Before Dorian could counter the motion, he watched Thomas' left hand dart up to his neck. He felt a slight prick of his skin like a bee sting. The light of the moon faded as his body crumpled to the ground, and then everything went black.
When Dorian awoke, he was no longer lying crumpled on the hard dirt of the forest floor, but stretched out on what felt like a cloud. In fact, the entire forest was gone and replaced by some kind of darkly decorated room.
Raising his head slightly, he noticed he was wearing clean clothes; a matching shirt and pants in pale blue made of a silky material. Touching the soft fabric, he noticed his hands were free of grime and his nails were neatly trimmed. Surprised by all the changes, he ran his hands threw his hair, which had also been cleaned and cut. Such drastic positive changes caused him to wonder.
“Ahem,” Thomas cleared his throat while sitting in a chair next to the fireplace. He was blocked from Dorian's line of sight by one of the four posts of the bed. Rising from his chair slowly, he walked to the side of the bed.
“Sorry about knocking you unconscious. I used an elephant tranquilizer which may have been a little too strong, but I knew it wouldn't destroy you. Wasn't sure how you would react to the travel here, and I also couldn't risk you killing one of my staff as they tried to clean you up. And dare I say, that was a job. I had to pay double, normal wage for anyone to even go near you. You were that disgusting. I know the hair is kind of short. Sorry, but it was so matted, my barber didn't have a choice.”
As Thomas spoke, Dorian just stared at him, propped up on one elbow.
Backing away after not receiving a response, he added, “I can see you need time to adjust to your new surroundings. Enjoy a rest in a comfortable bed for once. When you are ready to talk, just shout my name.”
After watching Thomas exit, Dorian lay flat, staring up at the ceiling.
“I can't believe I thought, I was in...” he whispered. He couldn't bring himself to say Heaven. “Like that's ever going to happen. I can't believe I'm no longer in the forest though. I was sure I would spend the rest of my existence in that forsaken place.”
Repositioning himself to the middle of the massive bed, he stretched out both arms as far as he could, but still didn’t come close to either side. Then he pulled them up over his head and neither his fingers nor his toes touched the ends. The bed was almost as big as his entire room in his church. Sadness immediately enveloped him as his remembered his former home and his father.
“Stop it, Dorian. That life is gone,” he moaned.
Clearing his mind of the depressing memories, he allowed the comfort of the bed to lull him to sleep.
After waking from his rejuvenating slumber, he felt confined by his new surroundings, having grown accustomed to the openness of the forest. He thought briefly of shouting for Thomas. However, being isolated for so long made him apprehensive about company.
Sliding out of bed, he exited the bedroom using the door Thomas had used hours earlier. This led him into a long hallway lined with many more doors. Following the hall to the right, he descended down an elaborate marble staircase to the first floor. “Why does one person need so much space?”
He proceeded toward the back of the mansion opposite the double wood and stained glass entrance. As he continued deeper into the mansion, he heard the faint rush of water. Following the noise, he found himself inside a glass room with a pool. The site enticed Dorian, having never seen such a large amount of water contained inside a house.
Disrobing, he made his way to the stairs at the end. Testing the water with his toe, he was pleasantly surprised by its warmth. Staying close to the edge, Dorian submerged himself in the warm water up to his neck. Leaning his head back to rest on the edge, he stared out the glass ceiling.
“I see you found the pool,” Thomas spoke from the entrance to the glass room.
Startled, Dorian lost his footing and plunged under the water. Able to correct himself quickly, he managed to only swallow a mouthful of water.
“Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. May I join you?” Thomas apologized and questioned all in the same breath. Before Dorian could regain control of his mouth to respond, Thomas was nude and jumping in.
“Oh, God, that feels good!” Thomas exclaimed as his body reemerged from under the water.
This mention of God caused Dorian to frown.
Slicking back his hair out of his eyes, Thomas guessed, “Sorry. You probably don't want to hear that name right now.”
Feeling exposed, Dorian panicked while Thomas seemed completely at ease. Attempting to hide, he crossed his arms over his chest. He then realized with the transparency of the water, his entire body was visible. His face heated up to a nice shade of crimson, but Thomas didn't notice.
Dorian's curiosity exceeded his discomfort. After stealing glances at the first naked body he had laid eyes on, besides his own, he compared their physiques. Thomas was nicely built, far more muscular and toned than himself.
Dorian couldn't resist sizing himself up. Fortunately, Thomas remained on the opposite side of the pool, elbows resting on the edge, preoccupied with his cigarettes. Feeling sure his glances were still going unnoticed, Dorian let his eyes wander below water level, and that's where their differences became more pronounced.
“Why Dorian, are you checking me out?” Thomas asked with a wicked grin. “Yes, I guess you are based on that lovely shade of pink you're wearing.”
Dorian froze, horrified he had been caught staring at Thomas' groin.
Glancing down his own front, his smile widening, Thomas admitted. “I am well-endowed, but let me ease your mind. If you're feeling inadequate, you have nothing
to be ashamed of,” spoken matter of fact as if this was a common topic he discussed frequently, “Someday, you will thrill women with what you have to offer – if you haven't already. Ah, I'm guessing that you haven't since that pink is now red. I didn't even realize a vampire could blush.” Thomas softly chuckled as he puffed on his cigarette.
Finally unfreezing, Dorian repositioned his gaze toward the glass ceiling.
“You look as though you would appreciate a change of subject. Oh, and by the way, I didn't mean to be rude. Would you like a cigarette?”
“No, thanks,” Dorian squeaked, not averting his eyes from the sky.
“The view is breathtaking, isn't it? Far more appealing than myself, especially since the stars don't give you a hard time for admiring them. It's okay for you to enjoy yourself, Dorian. Secluded in that forest for months, more than earned you the right to some self-indulgence.”
Turning his gaze back to Thomas, Dorian relented, “Fine, give me one.” He held out his hand and waited.
“Well, you'll have to come over here and get it. No need to be shy at this point. I won't bite,” Thomas teased, exposing his fangs.
Just being nude in a pool with another male on the opposite side was almost too much for Dorian. Now he was expected to get close enough to accept a smoke.
Making his way across the width of the pool, he carefully maintained eye contact with Thomas. Once close enough, he accepted the offered cigarette, bringing it to his mouth and inhaling. He sputtered and coughed as he handed the cigarette back.
“Yeah, these things will kill you,” chuckled Thomas, finishing off the cigarette with one draw then flicking it casually away. “My staff gets paid considerably well to clean up after me.” Abruptly switching gears, he asked, “Are you hungry?”