Collegare - Young Writers of Earth (a court of thorns and roses ebook free txt) 📗

point of delirium and sustenance could come second to a full day’s rest. Ulgoth stumbled slowly like a drunk back into the cave, traipsing through the blood syrup that sat thickening upon the ground. He found a damp patch of earth where the light did not dare spill and dropped his heavy bones to rest upon it. His eyelids snapped shut and the dull thump of his heart began to lull him into light slumber, his breathing in tune with his pumping organ like a well-timed orchestral movement.

In a flash Ulgoth’s eyes darted open and the world had drifted into darkness again. The crescent moon painted the ground with a dull blue hue and the fog of night thickened the air. Ulgoth rose, the fog licking his body like a lustful lover. He felt strong…stronger than he had felt in his entire life. The pelt around his neck was constricting so he untied it and placed his fingers to his throat. The wound where the creeper had gnashed its fangs and feasted was gone, almost like it had never occurred. Ulgoth began to walk and quickly noticed that his posture had straightened. His knuckles no longer dragged the ground when he moved forward and his knees locked straight and glided with precision.

The blood on the ground had all but dried up and mixed with the earth. Yet, Ulgoth could still smell the sweetness of the copper. The aroma was the most orgasmic and satisfying stench he had ever smelled. Ulgoth was hungry and desired a good feeding. He grabbed up his spear and ran forward into the midnight darkness.

Bloodlust piloted him through the dark as he dragged his spear through the dirt and grime. The night had always been a problem for Ulgoth. It was hard to spot both prey and predator in the midnight hours so for his own well-being he always did his hunting in the safety of daylight. But now, Ulgoth seemed to have no problem moving through the stark night. He could see every tree and every leaf as clearly as he could in the daytime. The smell was intensifying and Ulgoth was falling into a deeper trance. He became more like a savage animal with each passing second as the scent continued to build and seek refuge in his nose.

Soon, the smell became so strong that he could barely take it. Ulgoth spotted the source of the delectable olfactory sensation: a female was resting underneath a mass of leaves and other vegetation for warmth. Ulgoth could smell the blood inside of her as it coursed from vein to vein. When he closed his eyes, he could almost hear the roar of the blood as it splashed like water upon the rocks of waterfalls. His jaw began to click as his mouth opened wide. His tongue writhed in his mouth and flicked protruding canine fangs. His vision went blurry and his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

He dropped his spear and the female shifted but did not wake. Ulgoth had found his prey and all felt right in the pit of his stomach. The fog engulfed him and he disappeared, becoming merely a shadow amongst the nighttime flora and fauna; becoming just another predator that drank liquid life from champagne veins; becoming something more than a man and less than a god.

***

The Paris sky was aflutter with stars as they twinkled in the distance, their gaseous emissions providing midnight illumination from light-years away. 1,063 feet in the air, Ulrich Hofstadter sat perched on the freshly constructed lattice tower that had quickly become the revolting eyesore of the Champ de Mars. Perhaps that is why Ulrich liked it. He tended to embrace things that others were disgusted by. If anyone knew what he truly was, they would be just as disgusted by him.

Below, fresh food huddled in the large crowds, all stampeding in excitement to lay eyes upon the new village nègre. Times had certainly changed over the last few millennia. Things had become more complicated since the time of cave and spear. Language had evolved, and with it, so had people. In a strange way, they had become more savage with their evolution, the humans. Ulrich no longer felt guilty about dining on them. With the changing times they had learned how to more properly conduct themselves. And yet, things like war, murder, and human zoos still existed in this free world. Ulrich only killed for food, much as he did when his knuckles still dragged the ground. It had never been about sport, not like it was now with these filthy animals.

Ulrich had changed with the times, as well. He had adopted a name and a demeanor that would better serve his purpose and help him to blend. He was no longer Ulgoth, for the name was much too silly, and a life amidst the aristocracy seemed to suit him quite well. He had seen things over the years that he never would have imagined so long ago, huddled in the cave with nothing but spear and pelt. But, through all of the various countries and times, he had still yet to find what he was looking for: his maker. He was out there somewhere, the creeper. And one of these days Ulrich would find him. He still didn’t know if he would kiss him of kill him. Perhaps the heat of the moment would dictate his behavior.

Ulrich heard footsteps upon the iron of the tower. Turning quickly, he spotted a young mademoiselle peering over the edge of the puddle iron bars. The wind picked up, blowing the delicate silk poppies upon her bonnet just enough to ruffle them slightly. Ulrich approached her slowly, the smell of her perfume-soaked skin impregnating his nose with passion and bloodlust. He dove into the scent, inhaling heavily, basking in the musk much like he would bask in the stench of fresh wine upon a cork

“A bit late for one to be so high from the ground, Madam,” he said as he walked closer to her, his feet moving so steadily that they made no sound.

“Perhaps. But the beauty of the view is too exquisite to miss. I’d forever loathe myself if I did not gaze upon the Exposition Universelle from this vantage.”

“May I lay my eyes upon it with you, my dear?”

“If you feel so inclined.”

Ulrich approached and stood directly behind her. The veins of her throat pulsed in the starlight, beckoning him to enjoy her as he would a fine Laurent-Perrier. He wrapped his arms around her waist gently. Her lips were fragrant with the stench of fresh grapes and he could smell them as she exhaled and shivered with sensual excitement. He dragged his lips upon the back of her neck slowly, kissing her hairline.

“From this height, you can almost hear the exquisite beauty of the Esclarmonde,” she whispered slowly, her words quivering.

“Yes, my dear. Almost.”

Ulrich sank his teeth into her throbbing veins and drank like a man with a desert in his mouth. And when his appetite was sated, he looked upon the lights of the fair below and all was well for just a little while. There was no loneliness and there was no wanting. His neck throbbed intensely but that was nothing new. His neck always throbbed after he drank from the human bottle.


LAST WORDS
Rumin Torres

We were seated right next to each other. There, on that bench beside the small tree.
Melanie looked into my eyes and held my left hand.

“I’m sorry” she told me. I knew she had to apologize, but I was not sure what she was apologizing for.

“I get that you don’t like him for me. But you shouldn’t have done that. You embarrassed him in front of my family. Melanie, he’s a good man. He didn’t deserve that. But I accept your apology. I love him, but you’re more important to me.”

“I wasn’t apologizing for that. I don’t care if he’s hurt.” Melanie looked away.

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t understand her. I didn’t understand the person I have been bestfriends with since I was a child. That was indeed the first time I had to interpret what she was saying, and to think if my interpretation was right.

Melanie stood up.

“Let’s call it a night.”

I wanted to grab her arm and beg her not to leave. I would never have wanted to end any day making her feel that I have chosen anyone over her. She’s my bestfriend.

Either she didn’t mean much to me that night, or Aaron was worth turning my back to my bestfriend for. She looked at me before she left, like she wanted to say something. Like there was something she had been keeping to herself. Something she chose to not put into words.

She walked away just like that.

Next thing I know, I was in her wake.

I stared at the graduation photo above her coffin.
It was only the time I understood what she told me the night she had a car accident.

“I’m sorry.” “I wasn’t apologizing for that.” “I don’t care if he’s hurt.”


Her words, her voice. They’re echoing in my mind.
I know it now. And I think I’ve always known it.
To Melanie, I was everything. I meant the world to her. Melanie loved me…maybe the way Aaron does.


BRIGHT
Tanya Isabel

Stars are like people. They’re born, they shine for a moment, and then die. And some of them we still see even if they’re dead. Their light transcends their life, just like people. People leave things on earth that will surpass their breathing. No person has ever left nothing. All that was once alive, had meaning.

These were the thoughts of Ella as she looked outside the window tonight. Stars are like people. No one understands a star better than the star itself. Yes, stars can understand. Stars can think, because Ella believes they do. It is the courageous belief that converts thoughts to established facts.

“…but she’s a smart child.” She has been hearing this since memory could serve her. It never made her feel good. It makes her feel that people feel uneasy about her. She feels comfortable about herself, yet people make her feel like she’s incomplete. But even if they, unintentionally, make her feel like she doesn’t belong anywhere in this world, she feels she belongs to herself. And for her that’s enough.

She heard the door squeaked. “Are you hungry?” – this was the question people would ask normal children. Instead, Ella’s mother sat beside her, tapped her left knee, and smiled. Ella opened her mouth and nodded twice.

Her mother left and went back with Ella’s dinner.

Yes, stars are like people. They’re conditioned differently but they’re essentially just the same. Some form constellations, some cannot because they’re simply out of line. What’s important is they’re all up there and they all get to live and shine. Just like Ella, in her own special way, she lives and shines.


TICK, TOCK
Jamie Surles

Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
That’s what the Clock Man heard all day. And night. While he slept. While he ate. While he took a piss.
Tick, tock.
The Clock Man didn’t want to hear it anymore. He was being driven mad by the constant
Tick, tock.
He was surrounded. All their faces