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Daily prizes
By : Vegetaswriter
Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male
Views: 3552 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: i do not own dbz or make any money from this.
Chapter List
- 16
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In Haunting dreams

          My nightly stalker currently had a face, a face in which I had gazed upon and tasted its cold dead lips; a creature of the night is he, dark and twisted, his humanity lost, condemned forever into the shadows, and I shall follow unwillingly; fate so far from my control. His face was my own.

            It wasn’t as though I didn’t try to fight off this demon of the night, doing whatever was in my power to warn off the creature from my very soul was a battle not even I could accomplish.

            The scent of cloves of garlic overpowered the freshly picked Lilac, it sickened me, but I was far too weak to move and tear them down. The presence of shadowy individuals loomed over my bed, their voices echoed in a far away manner, meanwhile they hovered over me. This pull inside me, the call of the beast is deafening me, weaving out the love ones surrounding me. I wish I could hear them again, I wish the touch of my father’s hand didn’t burn me.

            My father… how many times must I hear him weep over me, only to shout and proclaim to God himself that nothing would take me away, only to turn into mummers of pleas, begging for my soul, begging to save me; I was all he had left in this world…

            He found me like this, pale and shivering in my bed; he came hastily the moment I didn’t show up for work in the factory, usually being the first, bringing my father’s breakfast as well as my own, to pray and share. I didn’t tell him of the creature, no, instead I begged him to kill me, destroy my body in a pyre so I may never rise again. He called forth the doctor, digging into his savings, spending everything he had on the best. I felt shame, deep rooted shame, how could I dare let him spend all his coins, for something a doctor cannot cure; I wasn’t ill, I was battling a evil phantom that had my face.

            The doctor, as my father said, was useless. He called for our Priest then, to come in the first morrow light. It was then, that very night the truth of my illness came into light…

            I pleaded and begged my father to leave me, to run, escape with his life intact; instead of heeding my cries, he hushed me, stroking my forehead and cheek with the back of his hand, soothing me as he once had many years ago when I was just a child, the affect no different; I settled in my pillows, my breathing evening out under my father’s care, and lulled into a restful slumber.

            The creaking of my window awoke me into a panic, my eyes flashed over to my door seeing my father resting against the wall, station on a stool; I wanted to weep then. Cold hands surrounded my neck, freezing me to the core, and that voice, my voice, called to me, entrapping me into its gaze. “So lovely.”

            My own voice trembled into the air as I pleaded. “Please, please no. Don’t do this, not while…” I spoke softly, not wanting to wake my father from his sleep to witness the demon above me, straddling my hips, a small stain of blood dried on the corner of its lips.

            My father awoke with a jump, alerted to an ominous presence; as if a scream was heard, unbeknownst to me, the imaginary scream was heard, the scream came from my own lips.

            The thing moved more closely, slithering a freezing hand over my lips, shutting them efficiently, his lips grazing my cheeks. “Now look what you’ve done, my lovely.” Its eyes moved over to my father, and I went into a sheer panic. My cries were muffled by his frigid hand sealing my lips. My eyes flashed to my father, begging he run, but his parental instincts were much more overpowering than the instinct to live. He charged the monster on top of me, only to be sent to the wall with an invisible bruising force; I bucked with a strength I didn’t have, the blood lost and weakness left me, adrenaline coursed through me, giving me the will to fight the constricting hold. My eyes never leaving my father, for a moment I believed him dead, until I saw the slow steady rise and fall of his chest; relief nearly exploded my weaken heart. “You wish him to live lovely?”

            Its hand moved from my lips giving me the ability to properly speak once again. “Don’t touch him again! Or I’ll…” My voice left me, an unfinished threat hanging over us, making it laugh hysterically; by all rights he should be laughing, he was immensely powerful, while I was just a weakened mortal.

            “You’ll what, my lovely?” Those freezing hands once again weaved around my neck, gently holding it in its grasp, thumbs lifted to gently rub my unresponsive lips, coaxing them to open. “I’ll let him live young one, only if you don’t fight.” It purred into my shoulder, its lips grazing the exposed skin, its cold cheek moved my loose top off my shoulder. I laid there shaken, my eyes wide, my breathing erratic, a hand slid away from my throat, and was instantly replaced by chilly grazing lips; my breath hitched, and my heart pounded. Its ghostly voice spoke its command. “Give into me…”

            My body moved in its own accord, not under the will and power of the beast above me; with my own will, I arched my neck back, giving myself to him, a tear slipped down my cheek, and I found myself once again, pleading to God, save me… forgive me…

            That very morning my father awoken with a hazy groan; I on the other hand had awoken from nightmarish dreams of gore, it surprised me I could hear my father’s waking through the powerful tremors of my body and the heavy panting of my breaths. Before I could even blink my father was at my side, instantaneously his hands started touching my face, soothing me from my panic attack, stroking over the throbbing pain in my neck. Dread filled his eyes, he brought his hand back and all I could see is the crimson of my own blood covering them; I was to die, die and resurrect as a demon. My eyes filled of tears, and my father hushed me, promised me I will not be taken… How could he make such a promise when what I was fighting was not mortal?

            He lulled me to sleep with low prayers, and hushed mummers. I awoke later in time by a deep masculine voice calling my name, I opened my eyes to see Father Gabriel standing over me, I forced a smile in my weakened state, genuinely pleased to see him; mayhap there be hope for me now. He asked me strange questions, pulling me in a hypnotic state, he spoke in Latin, yet I could still pick out the heavy French accent bogging down the soothing tones of Latin corrupting the speech.

- Have you consorted with the demon willingly?

~ No… Yes… I didn’t want to… But I liked it…

- How long has it been watching you?

~ A long time, ever since I can remember.

-Does it speak to you?

~ Yes… even now I can hear him.

- Do you wish to be one with it?

~ No… I want to live… but he is too powerful…

- Will you fight?

~ Yes…

            It seems he could only help me if I was willing, if I wanted to live, the will to survive would make his prayers stronger. May father and the Priest covered my room with garlic, crosses, and splashes of holy water on the entrance and window sill; it was sickening me, making me feel overwhelmed, overheated, stuffy. I wanted, no, needed it to be torn from the walls, thrown out the windows; freedom, I needed freedom.

            Days have past, and my condition was becoming worse; weaker, stranger… I would blank out at times, only to open my eyes and see them above me concern, scared, worn out; what happened? They would never tell me.

            I had visitors, my father explaining it as a common illness gone untreated, making it worse then usual; I should have had chicken soup and a rich red wine Kakarot said jokingly to me, not truly knowing the dire straits I was in. Bulma, that sweet beautiful woman, came over daily, leaving me fresh Lilacs picked from her garden, knowing how much I enjoyed the scent; too bad I didn’t get the chance to ask for her hand, I knew she loved me, and I her, but I guess it was better that I had not; I would never wish to put her in the danger that looms over me.

            Just the day before Father Gabriel gave me my last rites, chilling me to the core; I could feel the depression hanging out in the kitchen, coming off in waves from my friends and father, I could hear tears dripped onto the old worn wooden flooring, and I could smell the saltiness, knowing them to be my father’s tears. I was dying, changing… My gums itch…

            I’ve been dreaming of my mother of late, strange I dream of her now, it’s been so long since I had. The night of her murder… and now, I could place the pegs together; he had done it, that monster done it. My mother was the only one whom paid attention to my ‘imaginary friend’, she kept a close eye on me, making sure I never went to bed without a silver cross draped over my neck. She knew of him, I am certain of it, because of the monster my mother was saving her money to ensure I wouldn’t be here once I became an older boy; old enough to leave home and become a Priest in the heart of Rome, staying under the roof of the Pope himself. There she knew I would be safe from its eyes, safe from its hunger.

            It was a cold chilly night of Autumn, and I sat upon my bed waiting for my mother to return from a noble’s home, she was a nanny, ensuring we had some pretty coins to buy food, and pay rent. I still could hear the blood curling screech, and I knew it was my mother. I leaped from my window, screaming to father to hurry. I was dashing as fast as I could down the streets, to a small crowd hanging on the very edge of an alley, peering in, but not daring to step into that darkness. Pushing through them, I made my way forward, only to see my mother’s front surrounded by a black mass, which moved like smoke away, allowing her to collapse to the brick ground below. I slid down to her, taking her head in my hands, I turned her face. Her face has haunted my childhood, the look of pure horror etched in her eyes and gaping mouth terrified me.

I went into shock, as the doctors say. I cannot remember my mother’s funeral, vaguely remembering the first two years of my father’s drinking binges; but I do remember those chilling hidden eyes. He took her away, he killed her! And I shall be his next victim; but his intentions were far much more diabolical then death, no, he wanted me to suffer in the darkness, with him, for eternity…
- 16
- 17
- 18
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Daily prizes	By : Vegetaswriter Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 3552 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: i do not own dbz or make any money from this.

Daily prizes