Read Online The Human-Undead War Trilogy (Book 1): Dark Intentions by Jonathan Edwardk Ondrashek - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jonathan Edwardk Ondrashek
Tags: Horror | Vampires
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bolt. He remembered those black eyes. He would never forget them.
“I can hear your tiny heart fluttering. I can almost taste that sweet, coppery blood that courses through your veins,” she whispered, sliding off the bed. She stepped forward, reaching out for him. Her fingernails were dark, longer, pointier than he recalled. “I don’t want to hurt you, honey.” She was suddenly in front of him. “But it’s almost like I need to.”
She reached around and gripped him by the back of the neck, her nails digging into his flesh. Her mouth opened and two fangs glistened.
Brian elbowed her in the ribs and pushed her to the floor, then started in disbelief. “Mom, I didn’t mean—”
“You little son of a bitch, you’ll die for that!” She stood and slapped him so hard he flew into the hallway wall behind him.
Drywall buckled. Wood split. Dust and debris tumbled upon him as he coughed up blood and brought himself to his hands and knees.
He knew then that his mother was lost to him. He scrambled to his feet and sprinted into the kitchen. If he could make it to the basement and out the cellar doors to the back yard, he could alert a neighbor. But she was on his heels. He grabbed a large knife from the counter and wheeled about, arm back so he could throw it at her. But she advanced so quickly, he didn’t have time to toss it. He chucked it to the floor instead and cursed under his breath.
“Ah, ah, ah, Brian. Cursing isn’t allowed in this house. Now you have to pay!” She giggled in his ear, right beside him.
He reached for the basement door and almost pulled it off its hinges. Searing pain wracked his back as she raked those deadly claws against him, but it didn’t matter. He needed to get out and find help. Fast.
He took the stairs two at a time. He miscalculated the height of the final two steps and fell flat on his face. There was heavy panting behind him, like a wolf on the prowl. He rolled over and stared in horror as his mother—the thing who used to be his mother—bounded down the entire flight of stairs and landed with her legs straddling his prone body. He stiffened and fought back tears.
“Quiver, honey. Quiver.” She bent close, her breath rancid, like rotting cabbage.
A nail dragged across his cheek. Blood trickled down his face and he relaxed, dropping his head to the cement floor. There was nothing he could do. Resigned to his fate, he rolled his eyes back into his head and awaited the final deathblow.
The shovel. His eyelids fluttered open and he craned his neck back, sighting the tool. It rested against the wall perpendicular to him, feet away, where he’d left it the previous day after burying Brownie.
He made eye contact with his mother. Tears flowed down his cheek, mixing with the blood. He licked his lips, tasted salt. He’d never forget her or all the sacrifices she’d made in order to better his future.
“I’m sorry, Mom.”
She raised an eyebrow and paused. It was long enough for him to kick off the last stair and slide out from under her. He held his hands in front of his head and gripped the wooden handle of the shovel. In an over-handed swing, he strained and brought the spade down on top of her head. There was a sickening thud. She stiffened. Her head shoved down into her neck.
Sobbing and wailing, Brian stood, gripping the shovel like a baseball bat.
His mother braced the palms of her hands against her temples and pulled up. Amidst the loud popping noises, he heard her giggle.
She stalked toward him again, a mischievous grin spreading from cheek to cheek.
Chapter 8
Brian reacted out of fear and hammered her over the head again and again until she crumpled to the floor and was left lying in a pond of her own blood.
But she still didn’t die. She was unconscious but not dead.
His mind was clouded. He was frightened and disgusted with his actions but knew he had to
“I can hear your tiny heart fluttering. I can almost taste that sweet, coppery blood that courses through your veins,” she whispered, sliding off the bed. She stepped forward, reaching out for him. Her fingernails were dark, longer, pointier than he recalled. “I don’t want to hurt you, honey.” She was suddenly in front of him. “But it’s almost like I need to.”
She reached around and gripped him by the back of the neck, her nails digging into his flesh. Her mouth opened and two fangs glistened.
Brian elbowed her in the ribs and pushed her to the floor, then started in disbelief. “Mom, I didn’t mean—”
“You little son of a bitch, you’ll die for that!” She stood and slapped him so hard he flew into the hallway wall behind him.
Drywall buckled. Wood split. Dust and debris tumbled upon him as he coughed up blood and brought himself to his hands and knees.
He knew then that his mother was lost to him. He scrambled to his feet and sprinted into the kitchen. If he could make it to the basement and out the cellar doors to the back yard, he could alert a neighbor. But she was on his heels. He grabbed a large knife from the counter and wheeled about, arm back so he could throw it at her. But she advanced so quickly, he didn’t have time to toss it. He chucked it to the floor instead and cursed under his breath.
“Ah, ah, ah, Brian. Cursing isn’t allowed in this house. Now you have to pay!” She giggled in his ear, right beside him.
He reached for the basement door and almost pulled it off its hinges. Searing pain wracked his back as she raked those deadly claws against him, but it didn’t matter. He needed to get out and find help. Fast.
He took the stairs two at a time. He miscalculated the height of the final two steps and fell flat on his face. There was heavy panting behind him, like a wolf on the prowl. He rolled over and stared in horror as his mother—the thing who used to be his mother—bounded down the entire flight of stairs and landed with her legs straddling his prone body. He stiffened and fought back tears.
“Quiver, honey. Quiver.” She bent close, her breath rancid, like rotting cabbage.
A nail dragged across his cheek. Blood trickled down his face and he relaxed, dropping his head to the cement floor. There was nothing he could do. Resigned to his fate, he rolled his eyes back into his head and awaited the final deathblow.
The shovel. His eyelids fluttered open and he craned his neck back, sighting the tool. It rested against the wall perpendicular to him, feet away, where he’d left it the previous day after burying Brownie.
He made eye contact with his mother. Tears flowed down his cheek, mixing with the blood. He licked his lips, tasted salt. He’d never forget her or all the sacrifices she’d made in order to better his future.
“I’m sorry, Mom.”
She raised an eyebrow and paused. It was long enough for him to kick off the last stair and slide out from under her. He held his hands in front of his head and gripped the wooden handle of the shovel. In an over-handed swing, he strained and brought the spade down on top of her head. There was a sickening thud. She stiffened. Her head shoved down into her neck.
Sobbing and wailing, Brian stood, gripping the shovel like a baseball bat.
His mother braced the palms of her hands against her temples and pulled up. Amidst the loud popping noises, he heard her giggle.
She stalked toward him again, a mischievous grin spreading from cheek to cheek.
Chapter 8
Brian reacted out of fear and hammered her over the head again and again until she crumpled to the floor and was left lying in a pond of her own blood.
But she still didn’t die. She was unconscious but not dead.
His mind was clouded. He was frightened and disgusted with his actions but knew he had to
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