Run, rabbit, run

Submitted into Contest #235 in response to: Make a race an important element of your story.... view prompt

1 comment

Crime Suspense Horror

This story contains themes or mentions of physical violence, gore, or abuse.

****

1) I hope you enjoy this twisted tale!

2) It starts slow but then...

3)I tried my best to NOT make it too gory, so don't worry - it won't turn your stomach

****


"Run, rabbit, run," that's what I say every time I start chasing them. It’s a race between predator and prey. It’s a game I have perfected over the years, but it was here where it all started. It happened ten years ago, and even though I have had many other experiences since then, this is one of my fondest memories. Today I had some news that made me relive the whole event, in my head, frame by frame. The feeling was so delectable that I decided to take the same path I chose on that day. That path is one of the many hiking trails in the middle of a relatively small National Park. It’s an amazing little place, and it's not that small. It also has a river at one of the borders, and when it’s humid and cold outside, it creates that steam fog that makes everything look magical. I have loved this place since I moved in, eleven years ago, and lucky for me, unlike most Natural Parks, this one is inside the city and it’s within walking distance of my building.


Many of the locals go there on a whim, with no preparation, and at any time of the day. It’s usually busy during the weekends, and sometimes during weekdays, but it’s often empty at night, or whenever it gets dark. There is not much illumination happening there, and as you know, people fear the dark. That’s why nights were so appealing to me back then, back in the day when my only craving was the one of solitude. I even remembered thinking about ending it all. I was so distraught by my life; it felt so empty, devoid of meaning, devoid of companionship.


That’s what I thought I needed back then – to disappear. But before I give you the wrong impression, let me paint a quick portrait of myself. I’m not some kind of 'incel'; I'm not completely devoid of charm. I would say I can turn it on and off as needed, and by degrees. People like to be approached by me. I have a decent job, highly paid but unglamorous. I could be in a better situation if I cared, but I don’t. My condo and my car are luxurious enough for me not to wish for more. But most importantly, in the field I’m in, a promotion means more notoriety, and the last thing I want is more eyes on me. I have been told I am attractive, a specific type of attractive that is often preferred by young women; tall and lean, with a soft but masculine face. I take pride in my appearance, but I rarely think about it. It’s nothing else than a tool to make things easier for me. I sometimes wish I was a janitor; they are invisible, and they can move in silence. I often fantasize about that.


Women are forward with me, thinking that I am shy, I suppose. I do prefer men, however. Men are harder to catch, and that is thrilling to me. But, here let me stop you again, I don’t crave sex with them. I don’t crave sex much; I do enjoy it occasionally, but I often forget to think about it. It’s bizarre, but I do not find sex that “sexy”; that’s not the kind of lust I crave. It’s the chase, struggle, pain, and blood that is what makes me tick. The ultimate domination over another being. My blood lust sends me to higher planes; it’s better than any drug I have taken, and sex is pale in comparison. The taste of it is ecstasy to me…Oh, I could go on and on about it, and give you the details, but I suspect the feeling will be so alien to you that it will only awaken disgust.


As I was saying, before that main event, I only craved solitude. But, everything changed when I saw him. I saw him multiple times before I decided to approach him. I easily succeeded in gaining his trust, and he would often try to reach me. He had a fiancée, a gorgeous girl, but not as mesmerizing as him. He smelled so good; his smell is still imprinted in my brain. I liked that he would turn red every time I teased him, but more so, I loved that he would let me dominate him. Little by little, I started craving his companionship. That craving became louder, and at first, I thought I only wanted to fuck him. I was surprised since I usually don’t have that level of 'thirst' for anyone. So, I did have sex with him, and that’s when I realized it wasn’t fulfilling me; I wanted more. I started beating him lightly sometimes. But it was tamed. I think he believed it was only a weird kink, and he was happy to oblige. He was just so perfect for me when I think about it.


The problem is that I still wanted more, I wanted to see him fight for his life. I wanted blood. I restrained myself, and I kept that restraint for months. But then, his fiancée became pregnant, and they quickly married. Her parents gifted them a house near them, on the other side of the country. Work was willing to transfer him with no problem. It was the perfect plan for him, but it was a low blow to me.


 Desire without fulfillment is only an illusion.


My blood lust for him only increased with time. I would see him and think 'I want him, I want him, I want him'. We continued our little affair but as you know, this wasn’t IT. Well, at least it was something. It was far better than nothing.

One day, I invited him to take a nightly walk to the park. It had been raining just a couple of hours before, so the trail was extra muddy. With the dark and the mud, who would want to go to the park? He said yes without even thinking about it, I think he was trying to savor every moment left between us. He looked so beautiful on that day. Again, those thoughts came to me 'I want him, I want him, I want him'. The further we walked, the more I could feel this visceral need growing and torturing me. It was painful to know I would never see him again, and yet, not be able to get the most I wanted from him. I knew if I fulfilled my desire, everything would end but wasn’t everything already ending anyway? I would never see him again, and the memory will always be the one of an unfilled desire. If I took him now, that glorious moment would live in my head forever. That’s when I realized I loved him. I looked him in the eyes, caressed his face, and then told him to run. He thought it was a joke, so I showed him my knife and pressed it against his throat. I was taller than him by a few inches and was also stronger. He knew that. But, when it came to running, we were on equal ground. It must have been something he saw in my eyes, or just the knife on the throat. I wouldn’t know, I do not get scared easily. He took some steps back, and looked at me from a distance, in disbelief. I could see tears slowly running down the cheek I just caressed. He said only one word 'Why?' and started walking away, the walk turned into a light jog. I waited a little and started the pursuit. He heard me and accelerated the paste. It turned into a race. I murmured to myself ```'``````Run, rabbit, run''. My mind switched and I suddenly saw myself turn into a predator; I needed to catch him. It was a race. I never ran so fast and with so much ability. And then I caught him. He started to cry, but he never begged, never said a word. It’s like he knew all along. His death was slow, painful, and beautiful. I kept some of his hair, and after drinking some of it, I filled a very small jar with his blood. I then threw his body into the river.


Since then, I have made peace with my blood lust. I always chase at night, at the park, when it’s muddy. I’m clever about it, I make sure no one knows where my victims were at the time of their disappearance. I also make sure nobody knows I know them. It’s complex. It takes skills; I have perfected those skills.

However, what I could not predict was that somehow, they would find a body. And not anyone’s body I have caught and ditched. They found the body of the only human being I ever loved. I must confess something; it would be a lie to say that sometimes I don’t regret what I did. Not because I might get caught now, but because I believe he knew what I was, accepted me as I was, and would have sacrificed it all for me. I just never asked. 

February 03, 2024 04:34

You must sign up or log in to submit a comment.

1 comment

Sylph Fox
10:55 Feb 19, 2024

Hello Mari, I like how the story ends especially the last sentence. I run an audiobook podcast and am currently on the lookout for stories like yours for my upcoming season. I would be truly delighted to feature your work. If you're open to having your story narrated by me, I'd be grateful if you could reach out to me at SylphFoxSubmission@gmail.com. Feel free to take a listen to my podcast and share your thoughts. Apple Podcast: https://podcasts.apple.com/au/podcast/codename-sylph-fox/id1667146729?i=1000642489156 Spotify: https://open.s...

Reply

Show 0 replies
RBE | Illustration — We made a writing app for you | 2023-02

We made a writing app for you

Yes, you! Write. Format. Export for ebook and print. 100% free, always.