Flash Fiction- Never Let Them Know

Posted: December 14, 2015 by J.A. Prentice in Flash Fiction, Uncategorized
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Never let them know.

That was the refrain in her skull, pounding like a heartbeat. It haunted her every waking moment, her every sleeping dream, her every thought.

Each night, she walked, her hood raised over her dirty and uncut hair, concealing most of her battered face in a shadow. Her jacket was smeared with filth and her jeans were full of gaping holes that let in the cold, merciless wind.

She held out her hands as people passed by, begging with posture, words, voice, and eyes. Every inch of her asked for their help.

Sometimes they did help. They reached into their pockets for their wallets and gave her a couple notes, good for a night’s food.

Most of the time they didn’t. The majority looked away, trying very hard not to see her.

If they can’t see me, I’m not their problem, she thought bitterly. They can just walk by and not feel bad. They don’t have to think of me as a person.

Then there were the worst of the lot, the real sociopaths, the ones who laughed or jeered or threw things. Some of them dressed up their jeers in more socially-acceptable statements like, “Do an honest day’s work for once!” or “Go to the shelter for charity, not the street!”

She hated them and wanted to hurt them. But there were usually other people around, so she restrained herself.

Never let them know.

The sociopaths were less trouble than the ones that tried to help, the ones that called child services or the police and tried to have her put away.

She knew if anyone took her away, no matter how well-meaning, they’d find out.

Never let them know. If they know, they’ll hate you. Stab you with a stake. Burn you with the sun.

If no one had given her enough to eat that night, she scavenged or she stole. Windows opened easily to her and she could tread along rooftops without making the slightest noise. Sheer walls were easy for her to climb.

Sometimes she ate well. She still remembered the time she’d taken a tray of freshly baked muffins. They’d been gone in moments, ripped apart by her sharp, white fangs.

Mostly she made do with scraps. She wolfed down whatever she could find, grateful for even the smallest crumb.

Then there was the matter of blood.

She didn’t need it that often. Mostly she could slake her thirst on rats and mice and other beasts.

But sometimes, when the hunger was at its strongest, she needed more.

She’d steal blood bags if she could, smuggle them back to her dark hole and drink them dry.

Never let them know.

The words thundered in her ears with the bloodlust, reminded her to be stealthy.

Criminals turning up half-dead in back alleys. Freshly-dead bodies suddenly drained of all their blood.

By the time anyone even started to make the connection, she was long-gone. She turned up in another town, just another faceless, homeless teenage drifter.

Never let them know.

This Flash Fiction is part of VAMPIRE WEEK, in celebration and support of Jaden C. Kilmer’s vampire YA novella, REVENANT, which is available on Amazon now for $1,50. It’s also free for Kindle Unlimited users.

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  1. mandibelle16 says:

    What a good story. I feel sorry for the main character who has to struggle so much to survive to find blood and food. She never hurts anyone she is trying only to survive. Sometimes I think she wants people to see her as a person as someone valuable. But she is a vampire so she has to hide. The story moved along well and your writing as always is great.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Interesting! My impression of vampire is they only drink blood and not eat any food…LOL 🙂 and their ability to move swiftly makes getting anything they want easily. 🙂 But the vampire here is different. 🙂 Another insight to vampirism 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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