The crack of a branch resonates through the silent forest.
Gustav turns to the sight of a grey figure watching him from beyond a thick shroud of falling snow. He pushes on. Snow crunches beneath his boots and his heart pounds as he glances back.
His pursuer lurks in the shadows, yet still follows him. Gustav swings his musket from over his shoulder and takes aim. A deep breath fails to calm him. The cold air burns his throat. Too far, he thought.
He peers in the direction of his house, where smoke from the chimney billows above a grove of Spruce trees. Should he run to the safety of his house, and perhaps place his wife and child in danger, or should he muster all his will and face his tormentor?
Gustav turns once more and gazes at the now empty forest behind him. “What do you want?” he shouts into the wind.
A nearby movement draws his attention to a shadow creeping from behind a tree? He yearns to scream out for his neighbor Kaleb to come to his aid, yet fears his own family would forsake their sanctuary.
He has no other option, but to run.
* * *
The crack of a branch resonated through the silent forest, the memorable smell of game drifted past the hunter’s nose. He stepped off the branch and followed his retreating prey through the falling snow. It had been more than twenty years since his last hunt.
The hunter stared down at his feet, unable to deny the reality that he was about to break a promise. The hunter was in fact the last of his sacred bloodline, and he could no longer deny the preeminence of his ancestry.
Heavy snowfall blurred the hunter’s vision. He jumped beyond the cover of the tree line and dashed forward. He hunched beside a crooked tree, only to have his prey notice him. He scampered in pursuit. His heart rate increased two-fold with every step he took. His skin crawled with anticipation.
His prey was in reach. The hunter wet his lips and, taking one final stride, pushed himself off the ground. He leapt through the cold air and landed behind the shivering human. Grabbing hold of his prey he drove his century old vampire fangs into its tensed neck. The popping sound of his teeth rupturing through the skin made his body tremble. Warm blood sprayed with unrelenting force against the inner walls of his mouth. A feeling of inhuman strength pulsated through his body.
The human clawed and screamed in response, yet soon suffered a frenzy of convulsions which only increased the force of the blood spewing down the vampire’s throat. The human gave one final jolt, and became limp.
The hunter went on to lick the mangled neck of his kill. It had been so long since he had last tasted a human. His thoughts wandered back to the day he promised his only human friend he’d never hunt again.
The vampire frowned; never again would he deny himself!
He bit down onto the neck once more, ripped off a chunk of flesh and let go of the body, allowing it to stain the once pure snow. The vampire, known by his human friend as Kaleb, gnawed on the meat akin to a piece of candy. He looked down at the pale face staring back at him and gasped. “What have I done?”
His friend Gustav’s body lay ravaged at his feet. Gustav, who centuries ago saved him from the vampire hunters.
His only human friend.
__________
©2010 Joe Mynhardt
Joe Mynhardt lives in Bloemfontein, South Africa. He is a moderator on MyWritersCircle.com and has published three stories since I began writing in late 2008. He is currently working on an anthology along with Gary McMahon, foreword by Mort Castle.
Tags: Joe Mynhardt
March 16th, 2010 at 6:00 am
I like the dual perspectives on this one. Well done.
July 30th, 2010 at 9:17 am
Thanks, Angel. Glad you like it.