The Hunt

Posted in Stories on October 17, 2012 by Johnnie Cougar

Well readers, I feel horrible for delivering last week’s post so late. So, this week, I’m coming out with TWO posts! I hope this makes up for the delay and satisfies your “hunger” until next time . . . 😉

              My muscles were robotic as they moved my body to kneel next to the animal. I did not have to check to make sure it was dead; the smell of death emanated from it so strongly. Again, beyond my control, my fangs elongated and my lips pulled back to give me the best angle to sink my teeth into the soft flesh of the young deer. Hot blood immediately flowed straight through my parted lips, rushing down my desiccated throat. The small creature ran dry after only a short moment, but the burn raged on. I lifted my mouth from it, as excess blood ran down my face, off my fangs. I looked horrific as I watched myself in a dreamlike state. I looked like a monster.

            It startled me so that I bolted upright, suddenly awake. My throat burned for real, and I cupped my hand to it reflexively, attempting to stifle the pain. I needed to feed, that much I knew. But how to do it? Ian and Michael had gone on their trip to Canada, and they wouldn’t be back for days, I was sure. Anna was away at college. Mom and Dad were off hunting for the night, not due back until morning. What time was it? I rolled over to look at the clock, my hand still gripping at my throat. The neon bright numbers read 1:42. They wouldn’t be back for at least five hours or so, and I needed to eat now.

            I climbed out of bed and headed down the hall to Rebecca’s room, flipping on lights as I went. Surely she would have some spare blood just in case I decided I needed it. My mind felt like it was chasing itself in circles, going over the same thoughts again and again as I tore my way through her room, searching for the blood I was sure was there. After twenty minutes of mindless searching, consisting of throwing, ripping open, and destroying anything and everything I got my hands on, my thoughts began to drift in a very dangerous direction.

            Blood. I needed blood, and lots of it. But there was no blood here. Absolutely none. But . . . there was blood in me. Hot, sticky blood that promised to relieve the pain. I would merely need to cut a small slit somewhere that would draw enough blood. Just a taste, I tried to convince myself, just a small mouthful, and that will be enough until Mom and Dad get home to help me take care of this.

            Now I needed something sharp. My eyes rolled over Mom’s large vanity, covering most of the far wall. A piece of glass would be sharp enough to do the job. I lifted the small jewelry box she kept all of her earrings in and weighed it in the palm of my hand for a fraction of a second. I launched it straight at the long mirror without a second thought, and watched with morbid delight as it shattered into thousands of pieces. My fangs had elongated as I picked up a small piece, thinking only of my scorching thirst, and how this tiny fragment of broken glass would help me quench it.

            With a quick flip of my hand, I sliced a fairly deep gash into the long vein of my left wrist. Dark ruby blood spilled from it immediately, and the next thing I knew, blackness swallowed my conscious thought.



Posted in Stories on October 16, 2012 by Johnnie Cougar

Sorry for the lateness bloggers! As I’ve said before, life has an uncanny ability to get in the way at the worst times! But, as promised, here’s a snippet of something I’ve been working on for some time. I call this little moment in the story “Intruders,” as someone is present who most definitely shouldn’t be. Who, you may ask? Let’s find out . . .


My eyes wheeled instinctively around the large space, searching for the intruders I knew were here. The silence that echoed off the walls was just short of terrifying. It was wrong. It shouldn’t be this quiet. They were here. I could feel it.

“You don’t have to do this,” I said to the empty void in a tone just below conversational. “We aren’t what you think we are.”

Before my eyes could detect a presence, there came a harsh blow against the back of my head, and a stabbing pain erupted down my back. My knees had no choice but to buckle beneath me and my weakened body followed suit. Black rings edged my vision as I hit the floor with a harsh thud, and a very familiar voice chuckled quietly.

“Oh, you’re exactly what I think you are, bloodsucker.”

Do Something

Posted in Stories on October 7, 2012 by Johnnie Cougar

A Mr. Ben Franklin once said, “either write something worth reading, or do something worth writing.”

As an aspiring writer, every time I put the pen to paper, my greatest hope is that I will write something that will be worth reading. Since I have began writing at a young age, I never intended for anyone to see my work besides myself or maybe even some of my close family. Writing has always been a very private window into my head, but more importantly, into my heart.

In recent years, I have began to realize, that because I am pouring out every bit of myself into the words on the page, my writing no longer belongs to just me, and that is, unexpectedly, okay. I want to share my words with the world in the hopes that they will get the satisfaction out of reading as I did writing.

So for now readers, just stick with me. There’s a lot of stuff in this den to get on paper. I hope you find some of it worth reading.