Some of My Writing

This is the first chapter of my book 'Bloodlust'
  
I wasn’t raised to think this way. In fact, my mother brought me up quite well. She gave me everything I needed. But she couldn’t save me from the way I thought. She couldn’t save me from the kids at school who thought I was weird for always staring at their bodies.
                I didn’t stare at other girls and boys bodies because I was attracted to them in a Physical Way. I was attracted to them in a Mouth Watering way. The kind that makes my eyes not blink and drool run down my lips.
                Human’s flesh is what fascinates me the most. I think about it all the time. It is constantly there in the back of my mind. The movement of muscles and skin seemed so disgusting to me.
                If a human being had a plate filled with moving food they certainly wouldn’t eat it. They would find it disgusting and displeasing and would need it dead before they ate it.
                I see it the same way.
                When I was little my father died, my mother was crying by his casket on the funeral day. I was smiling. The fact of seeing him dead pleased me. The silent nonmoving body was better that way.
                I would like to see the kids at school dead. Seeing them lifeless and breathless would bring joyful tears to my eyes. Like a fat boy receiving a lifetime supply of doughnuts.
                I hadn’t told anyone of my thoughts until last week in the kitchen with my mother. I had just walked in the door when she began yelling at me.
                “Christopher, I got a call from the school today. Mrs. Marian is worried about you. She said that you bit a poor innocent first grader.” She looked disappointed in me as I nodded my head. “Where on earth did you learn to bite? I never taught you that. You don’t have any friends either so I don’t see where you would have gotten it from. Why would you bite such a poor child?”
                “It fell down on the pavement and cut its knee open. The blood is what I needed.”
                “Excuse me? Are you saying you bit an already injured child? And don’t pretend you’re in some horror movie. I don’t need vampire crap.”
                “I needed to taste the blood mom. It called to me. The smell made my mouth water. I could not help but bite.”
                “Stop it! Stop it right now! I don’t need this crap!”
                “I’ve never tasted anything so good mom.”
                “Stop it, Christopher. You are scaring me. Tell me right now what is wrong with you.”
                “I need more.”
                “What?”
                I walked closer to my mom, “Just a small taste would satisfy me I’m sure.”
                She screamed, “Get away! Get away from me Christopher!” She ran to the phone and took it into the bathroom. She locked herself in and I heard her dialing a number.
                The next thing I knew I was in some mental hospital listening to my mother tell me goodbye and that she would be back in a few days when I was better.
                So here I am now in a cell of fluffy pillows with nothing to do but wait for some doctor to come in and tell me I’m delirious, that I need pills to control my problems he would never know the true meaning of.
                I’m having thoughts that I am not human. The rest of them are normal and eat normal foods. I eat normal food yet it does not satisfy. I bit a small child in hopes I would get a taste of blood and flesh. Am I wrong to think this way? Did not everyone want the same thing? I had heard my mother say to a friend on the phone that men only want one thing. Is that what they wanted?
                Someone stepped into the room. He had a white coat and gloves on. He motioned for me to come forward. I did not go to him. I just stared.
                I remembered now the taste of the blood and skin; the melting flavor of sweet flesh and gooey satisfaction. The man reminded me of this. His skin was soft and supple. His movements were healthy and smooth. I could not help myself but to lick my lips at the site of his cheek bones.
                The man scowled at me. “Boy come with me, it is time to take your tests. Do not make me get the big men to come get you.”
                I crooked my neck, ignoring what he said. I came into a prowling position. The man looked worried and he turned to leave the room but I pounced. I got his leg and brought it to my mouth. He screeched. In one quick movement I shoved him onto the floor and shut the door tight. I ripped at his skin with my long fingernails and scraped at his face.
                He was making a bounty of noise and I kept tearing at his face to quiet him. I took his neck and cracked the bone. He was quiet, eyes left open.
                How had I gotten this strength? Had it always been there I had just never used it? I am ten years old for crying out loud. This was a grown man I had just killed.
                He was dead. All dead, and all mine. I picked at his flesh; taking the muscle and leaving the fat and bones.
                When I finished I wiped my mouth on my bloody t-shirt. This man was dead, I could not stay here. They would throw me in jail or kill me. I would never see my mother again. But worse yet, I would never see the sweet taste of human ever again.
If you want to read more you can go to http://www.worthyofpublishing.com/chapter.asp?chapter_ID=93621 and click Next Chapter:)