I was human once, he said, licking sharpened teeth and eyeing hungrily my open flesh. But my depravity turned me into this. An abomination unto God, drinking the blood of men. Do you fear me, boy?
No, I said, returning to my painting.
You should.
Is that so? My brush flowed, catching muscle and madness.
You’d taste good, I’d wager.
And he bared his fangs and lunged at my throat.
I plucked the creature away, cast it back behind my canvas.
Sit, I said. Being evil doesn’t make you strong. You call yourself a vampire. I call you a flea.
2 comments… add one
This story came from a picture prompt. You can see it here:
http://www.tate.org.uk/art/artworks/blake-the-ghost-of-a-flea-n05889
It was given to me by Priya Sharma, who writes the kind of unbelievably amazing short stories I wish I could do. You can read some of them on her website. By which I mean you SHOULD be reading some of them on her website. Like now:
http://priyasharmafiction.wordpress.com/
Thank you, kind sir. I really love what you did with Ghost of a Flea!