A Bloody Valentine: Joseph DeRepentigny

Published February 15, 2013 by administrator

On tap now is another short story, this one from Joseph DeRepentigny. Sit back and have a read. See if what pisses his characters off pisses you off as well.

This one comes with an ADULTS ONLY disclaimer… and also, be warned that it is a bit on the graphic side. However, it is horror, so anything goes.

~+~+~+~

Pisses Me Off

by Joseph DeRepentigny

“Pisses me off,” Prudence said to no one in particular walking by herself through the park.

She was mad, madder than she had been in months. Her newest companion, Quentin, had taken it upon himself to disapprove of her lifestyle. He insisted that she was living a tenuous existence as a vampire that hunted sexual predators. Though she was immune to the various diseases that plagued the living, he insisted that sooner or later she would encounter a predator that was more than she could handle.

She laughed at his comment and accused him of wanting her to become his slave. His reaction shocked her. He asked her to leave. This was the final insult to her. No one had ever asked her to leave in fact the opposite was what she expected. In her one hundred years of existence, no one ever broke up with her or asked her to depart.

Flashing her pert tits at him she sneered, “You’ll never see these again!”

“I’ve seen them before and I will see them again,” Quentin replied with a bored tone.

That was the final straw. She slapped him and left the bar ignoring the stares of the other patrons. They all stared as the petite brunette marched out still showing. Buttoning her blouse, she marched out of the bar toward home, all the while mumbling in a rage.

Quentin sat in the small bar brooding. The echoes of his argument with Prudence still rung in his ears, He had always loved her ever since meeting her some seventy years ago. His fear was that she no longer fed on the bass rapists or perverts that haunted the bar scene. She was looking for the predators that hunted women with a skill equal to her own. This worried him. When he let her know his concern, she believed he was jealous of her sexual escapades. This was far from the truth. He himself engaged in numerous rendezvous and thought nothing of her doing the same.

“Man, she was mad as a wet hen,” a voice said.

Looking up Quentin saw Steve the bartender smiling at him. Steve was a thin man with a well-trimmed mustache. Unlike many of his coworkers, he had a skill at mixing drinks and therefore had a future in his trade.

Frowning Quentin asked, “You heard the argument?”

“Heard it?” Steve replied smiling, “We saw it!”

Quentin blushed and asked, “You saw everything?”

“Yeah, but don’t worry we’ve all seen Pru’s tits before,” Steve replied with a wink.

Quentin frowned angrily. He was about to thrash the man when he realized that Prudence didn’t mind flashing people. Then shaking his head he said to Steve, “I wonder about her sometimes. She is a hard woman to love.”

“If you love her so much why’d you let her leave in a huff? People are vulnerable when they are blinded by anger,” Steve then added. “This isn’t exactly the safest neighborhood in the city.”

“She can take care of…” Quentin let the last part of the sentence hang. After their last argument, it sounded almost prophetic. As a hunter, he knew anger could blind even the keenest senses. Realizing that this man may have just saved Prudence’s life Quentin tossed him a twenty-dollar tip and headed out after his girl.

Bert was a career criminal. He had the look of someone whose profession included acts of evil against others. With a shaved head, a hard muscular build, and covered in tattoos his look shouted prison yard trash. From the age of twelve on, he was involved in or committed everything from burglary to murder. As was the case with most people like him Bert spent plenty of time in jail. For him it was just another home but where he learned to improve his vocation and his vocation was rape.

For reasons known only to Bert and his state appointed therapist he enjoyed the power rape gave him over his victims. He relished in the squirms and moans from his victims. Yes, he got some of that from robbery, but a woman or man’s tears made him feel good. To Bert this was better than drugs and he had tried them too. Now he was out and about to get some fun from the first woman to cross his path that evening. Crouching near a tree, he saw a petite woman with big tits and a short dress. This was all he needed.

With a speed born from years of practice, Bert jumped Prudence from behind. Pushing her forward she fell on her face. Pulling a piece of lamp cord from his pocket, he quickly tied her hands behind her back and rolled her over. With lightening speed he wrapped her mouth closed with duct tape, he didn’t want her screams to alert passersby and ruin his fun. Sitting on her chest, he began punching her face. He did this for two reasons; the first was to render his victims senseless and the second because the blood turned him on.

Once she was nearly unconscious, Bert took a safety razor from his shirt pocket and sliced his victim’s clothes down the middle. He then pulled them aside like the flesh of a gutted fish. The razor always made a mark down the woman’s chest. The sight of the red line billowing with blood is what excited Bert and not the sight of a naked woman before him.

Prudence was confused. The fall had knocked the wind out of her and the pummeling had confused her. She was in a half dream state trying to make sense of the flashes of light and the pain. Then the feel of the man roughly taking her brought back memories she’d long forgot. Nearly a hundred years ago a gang of soldiers brutally raped and murdered her. Now the feeling had returned.

Quentin Followed Prudence’s scent her mixture of imported perfume and a little talc was easy for him to track. It was a smell that sweet and seductive. He loved the fragrance. In his two hundred years of existence, he truly felt the advances in personal scents were the greatest achievement of the human race. In a matter of minutes, he realized she was heading home.

Cursing he sped up and took a short cut to the park. He wanted to get to her before she got home. If she locked the door before he got there, he’d have to wait a full night before being able to apologize. Quentin was not a man that likes to stew in his thoughts. Crossing the park, he picked up Prudence’s scent again this time it was mixed with blood and sweat. With the skill born of vampires, he moved up quickly and quietly to the source. Here he found an odious man raping his beloved. “That’s my girl you are defiling!”

Bert looked up in shock. He saw the older vampire in his usual dark suit and bowler hat. “A queer!” well he had a solution to this problem in the shape of a pistol in his back pocket. Without a word, he pointed the pistol and put a round through Quentin’s chest.

What happened next, confused Bert. Instead of crumpling to the ground, the idiot in the suit grabbed him and threw him roughly to the ground. Grabbing both of Bert’s arms, the man snapped his fore arms as if they were twigs. The pain from his arms being broken was so intense that Bert blacked out.

Prudence woke from what she thought was a horrible dream. Then she tried to move and realized it all happened as if she remembered it. She hurt everywhere. Then she realized that she was in someone’s arms. She felt safe like she did when she was a small child. Though it hurt to move, she wanted to snuggle up to whoever was holding her.

“Lie still Pru.” Quentin said gently. “It is going to take you a few days to heal.”

“What happened to that evil man?”

“He’s entertaining a few of my friends.”

In the darkness of a sewer tunnel, a small mind sat in the dark watching. The prey was large and noisy. Its roars and movements frightened everyone. Yet the smell of blood and adrenaline blinded a few to the dangers, their bodies lay strewn everywhere. The mind also knew that as soon as their numbers grew larger enough the beast’s roars and movements would no longer cause them fear. Then the rats would feast!

~+~+~+~

More on Joseph:

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Joseph-DeRepentigny-A-Gothic-Writer-with-a-Differance/152820908141895?ref=ts&fref=ts

Advertisements

Scream at Me!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: