Bloodlust

This is an excerpt of a story I'm working on. Let me know what you think.


Eugene liked the new neighborhood.

He liked the tree-lined streets and the manicured lawns. He liked the upper middle class cars in the paved driveways. He liked the sound of a basketball thump thump thumping two doors down. And he especially liked the sight of Marylou Rettinhour as she undressed in silhouette against the upstairs window across the street.

Marylou wasn't the first girl he'd thought about this way. But she was the first one since he had moved here. Before her was Penny, and Wanda, and Idell, and Janey, and... and a lot more. Dad always told him that a young man must learn to control his urges. That, although some desires seemed perfectly natural and right, they must be controlled. It wasn't always socially acceptable to act upon your impulses. And with maturity he would be able to discern the proper time and place. And most of all - you don't sully your own back yard.

But Marylou was soooooo perfect.

He yearned to reach out and caress her perfect curves, to... to... He closed his eyes and tried to wipe the image from his mind. But there she was, against the inside of his eyelids, dancing naked in some obscene parody of sexuality. And he was doing the thing to her that always made him feel so much better. Again, and again, and again, and again. Until sated, he would rise from her still body and scream in triumph.

God, he wanted her so!

But he had to control himself. He'd only lived here for less than a month. And the police were so close last time. If his father hadn't made them move when he did they may have gotten him. He knew about the decoys and the traps they had set for him and, at first, that made the game even more exciting. But there were too many girls and too much blood and his lust was making him careless. Another night, maybe two, and they would have had him. He was sure of it.

The move had distracted him from his bloodlust long enough to take the heat off. And the eight hundred miles didn't hurt either. He grinned in the darkness of the night. The drive (the girl behind the diner), the unpacking at the new house and then exploring the mysteries of the new school, learning the new neighborhood (and the paths of escape); all had kept him busy and his hands relatively clean.

But now he was settled and he could feel the bloodlust rising again and he knew that before long he would not be able to control it. He would succumb.

He must.