----
“What happened? Oh my god.”
It was Mattias, and his voice trembled. Niklas could tell that much, even if he was having a hard time grasping everything else going on around him. He had collapsed onto his behind, and his friend had kneeled down beside him soon after, hands up in the air wanting to help, but he hesitated doing anything.
“That girl.” It was the only thing Niklas could get out as he looked at his wrist which he held tightly.
“What girl?” A woman’s voice, and face looking down at him. Susanne, right, that was her name.
“The one from before.”
“Who?”
“She did this to you?” Mattias knew, even if Susanne didn’t. He took off his jacket, and then got to work on the buttons of his shirt; Niklas couldn’t figure out why, it was cold out.
“A girl?” Susanne took a few steps down the alleyway, looking around.
“We’ve got to get you to a hospital, I’m going to -- I think I’m supposed to tie my shirt around your arm.” Mattias wouldn’t look Niklas in the eyes at all, his attention was fully focused on the injury.
While his arm was bleeding up to the forearm, the part that kept his hand there was the wrist. It was pure instinct for him to hold it. Another pulse of blood managed to seep out from between his index and middle fingers.
“It doesn’t hurt, I don’t think it’s that bad.” In this state of shock, Niklas was pretty sure he was going to be just fine. He wanted to calm his friend down who looked to be in a bit of a panic.
Mattias was shirtless now, and busy tying the arms of his shirt tightly around Niklas’ forearm.
“Ok, need to stop the bleeding.”
“Ow.” Niklas glared at his friend -- that hurt, tying it that tight. “Is that really necessary?”
“Yes!”
Susanne walked back, her shoes clicking on the cobblestone. She seemed surprisingly calm compared to Mattias.
“I don’t see anyone, oh my god, you’re so pale.” Now she didn’t. Perhaps the sight of the blood was just hitting her.
“She was like, ten, and she attacked you with a knife? What happened?” Mattias made a secondary knot in his now bloodied shirt and slipped his jacket back on, zipping it up to protect his bare skin from the cold. Then he went to help Niklas up.
“A ten year old with a knife?” Susanne spoke in disbelief.
“No -- no.” Niklas stood up with ease but quickly wobbled, suddenly lightheaded. He was caught by his friend, and managed to stay on his feet.
“No, she had -- claws.”
Mattias didn’t seem to register that, he was more concerned with helping Niklas, who could appreciate that, though he got a bit irate when he didn’t respond to what he’d said.
“There’s a hospital not three blocks from here. I’ll just help him there, it will be faster than going to get help.”
“I can help.”
Niklas quickly felt his other arm propped up by Susanne, and suddenly his legs barely had to do any work at all. As much as he wanted to thank them both, he couldn’t get his mind off of what he saw.
“She had claws on her hand -- like a ...”
“A claw weapon?” Mattias sounded baffled. “Like... like from that Bruce Lee movie?”
“No! No.” Niklas felt like his friend was making fun of him. “Like... like a bear or a cat or something.”
“What?”
“Her hand had claws -- like an animal. It wasn’t normal.”
There was no response, Mattias likely thought he was delirious now, his mind making things up. Susanne was quiet, too; hadn’t said a word. Niklas was frustrated, he knew what he saw, but he didn’t have the energy to say more.
There was a scratching noise from the side of the building, and a shadow crossed over the trio briefly. Niklas looked up, and saw a figure on the side of the building quickly crawl over onto the roof. There was a metallic crashing sound that came from above right afterward that got the attention of the other two. They all stopped for a second. Both Susanne and Mattias looked to each other, and then to Niklas. They both followed his line of sight up the building but saw nothing.
“Come on, let’s get you to the hospital.” Mattias urged them all forward again, one step at a time but quickly, with purpose, all while Niklas’s arm leaked all over his friend’s jacket.
Niklas just looked up at the moonlight, and the building, and from there felt unable to lift his head back up as he felt the night grow a bit darker. A blood trail followed the trio.
----
*knock knock knock*
There was a quiet grunt beside her. Emma wasn’t sure she heard anything, but she was awakened by something. Patrik wasn’t. She rolled over and fell back asleep for another few minutes.
*knock knock knock*
Emma awoke again to the sound of Patrik groaning and sliding out of bed. She rolled over and looked at the door, and the figure of her boyfriend slowly staggering toward it to answer.
A bit of light shined into their room from the crack in the door Patrik opened slightly. It was the boy.
“What is it?” Patrik’s words were barely intelligible, grunting.
“I’m... I’m -- can I talk with your... with Emma?”
She’d heard her name, and pieced together the rest of it.
“Huh? What? Why? It’s...” She saw Patrik look back at her, then at the clock, “It’s almost two. What do you want? Can this wait until the morning?”
“I’m.” The shadow in the doorway bounced up and down subtly, nervously, “I’m scared.”
Emma was more awake now, fumbling for a glass of water on the nightstand.
“You’re.. scared?” Patrik sounded more confused than anything else, “Okay, hold on.” The door clicked shut, and in a second, the bed creaked as he crawled back in.
“What is it?” Emma found it hard to get the words out, still groggy and tired, but sitting up, dreading getting out of bed.
“The boy is scared -- he’s. I don’t know, I think he wants a mother you know?”
“Great.”
She wasn’t one, she didn’t want to be one. It was irritating that Patrick was putting this all on her after it was him that brought them back here. She waited there a moment and sighed before angrily getting up out of the bed.
On her walk to the door, she calmed herself. Opening the door a crack, she got a look at the young blonde boy’s face and his blue, fearful looking eyes.
Despite not being angry anymore, Emma looked anything but inviting, and she saw how the boy immediately looked over his shoulder, avoiding eye contact with her. Then he was gone.
Emma opened the door slowly and stuck her head out. He was already heading back to the sofa, and she felt her stomach drop. She wanted to just call Patrik out on being a moron, but this boy did need someone to help him through this time in his life.
In a few moments, she’d donned a nightgown and left the room. While looking toward the sofa as the door clicked shut, she noticed the young boy get startled at the sound of it. She was surprised he could even hear it.
“Are you alright?” She asked as she arrived in the living room.
“Oh--yeah, I-I’m fine.” The boy nodded with a forced looking smile, still avoiding eye contact.
It was obvious to her what the problem was. It was late -- some time since she’d turned off the light in the living room while he’d slept.
“She’s not back yet.”
“No.”
Emma sat down on the couch beside the timid looking, frail, slightly chubby boy. He tensed up, and she debated backing off and leaving him be. Instead, she chose to stick it out and try her best to help.
“And you’re worried about her?” A sense of dread washed over the woman. What if the girl was addicted to drugs like she thought -- she wasn’t concerned about the implications of bringing them back anymore, what if she were hurt having to deal with the type that sold them.
Worse, what if she was going to have to go out looking for her in the middle of the freezing cold night. What if they found her?
“No... not really.” The boy shook his head; Emma was skeptical.
“I mean yeah, a little but... I’m really just.” He pressed his lips together and chewed on them nervously.
Emma had another thought.
“Homesick?” She hadn’t a clue how long this boy had been on the road for.
“Lonely.” The boy no longer looked tense.
Emma wasn’t sure what she’d just heard in the boy’s voice or felt his posture. Something seemed off all of a sudden, like he was hiding something from her. She couldn’t put her finger on it, and chalked it up to the terrible situation he was in.
Emma decided to fight through the feeling and reach out to help him, literally. She placed an arm around the boy’s shoulders, and he immediately melted into her to her surprise. As he laid his head down upon her shoulder, she almost laughed out of shock -- not just how unexpected it was, but that she liked it -- this closeness. This poor boy just needed someone.
“I can wait with you.” She said quietly to no response. It felt to her like he’d instantly fallen asleep, his breathing had slowed down considerably, and his weight was fully upon her.
She’d seen the two children hold each other earlier in the evening, like nothing else in this world mattered but them. She and Patrik didn’t hold each other like that; they used to, but not anymore. It felt like he was just looking for somewhere to put that love he had inside him, and Emma happened to be there. Maybe she was being that surrogate mother for him.
Emma settled into the couch, ready to hold him for as long as he needed.
---
Thursday Evening (Fanfic)
Re: Thursday Evening (Fanfic)
Hmm...Galen wrote: ↑Mon Apr 11, 2022 7:34 amEmma decided to fight through the feeling and reach out to help him, literally. She placed an arm around the boy’s shoulders, and he immediately melted into her to her surprise. As he laid his head down upon her shoulder, she almost laughed out of shock -- not just how unexpected it was, but that she liked it -- this closeness. This poor boy just needed someone.
But from the beginning Eli was just Eli. Nothing. Anything. And he is still a mystery to me. John Ajvide Lindqvist
Re: Thursday Evening (Fanfic)
----
The bright lights which surrounded the hospital were almost blinding to her as she exited through the sliding glass doors, and they didn’t help her headache one bit. It was late; Susanne was sore, exhausted, dehydrated, and quite sober now. The hospital Mattias had sought to get to was much further than he’d thought. Luckily for them, they had carried Niklas for no more than a block before someone stopped to help, and gave them a ride. They’d all crammed into a small car with the stranger. Niklas had lost consciousness sometime along the way, she couldn’t remember when.
Susanne had waited with Mattias for close to an hour before she decided to head back to her apartment. It was all a bit much, and she hadn’t signed up for any of this.
She grimaced at the wind as she made her way toward the bus stop right outside.
No bus, of course not.
She should wait, no doubt one would be along soon, faster than walking. She sat down on the frigid bench and huddled her arms. But, she thought, at any moment Mattias could come out of there and find her. She didn’t want that, she didn’t know him that well, and she didn’t want to talk anymore, or see him anymore. She just wanted to go home and sleep, and forget this night.
The cold, wet air wasn’t invigorating to her like it normally was, it just stung her face. She grew antsy quickly, and just as she was about to stand up to leave, she was frozen in place by a voice beside her.
“Is he alright?”
It had surprised her, and she snapped her head to the side to look.
Nobody had been at the bus stop when she got there, and she hadn’t noticed anyone except for the stray nurse or doctor coming or going nearby. But this wasn’t a doctor, it was a young girl who looked far less prepared than she did for the cold, with an old shoulder bag that looked like it belonged to her father. Somehow she’d more or less sat beside Susanne without her realizing it, which she blamed on how tired she was.
“Huh?” Susanne simply didn’t know how to respond, she hadn’t even really processed the question. Why was this girl even talking to her?
The girl inched closer to where she was, her dark hair hanging forward, wet and matted looking.
---
“The man you brought here. Is he still alive?”
The way she’d asked that, so oddly matter-of-fact caught Susanne off guard, but kids were like that, right?
“Yeah, they, they think he’s going to be fine.” In the middle of it, Susanne’s mind had pieced the rest together -- this girl must have seen them come in. Given how she had no coat, she’d probably left it inside, in whatever room whatever family member of hers was in.
“Is... is whoever you’re here with alright?” Susanne squinted, worried she may be trespassing on a bad event.
The girl hesitated to answer before she put on an odd, forced-looking smile, nodding.
“Yes, he’s fine.”
Susanne didn’t want to press the issue as to who it was -- she didn’t even want to keep talking with this girl.
“That’s good -- I think I’m going to walk home. Good luck, alright?” Susanne stood up and turned about, attempting to excuse herself from the situation, but the girl rose to her feet as well, continuing to question her.
“What happened to him?”
Susanne looked over her shoulder at the girl, who took yet another step toward her.
“To the man you brought here.”
Susanne felt her heart race -- it was something about the girl’s eyes, the way she was looking at her. And then it clicked, and she said it, her voice wavering slightly.
“He was stabbed.”
“Oh.”
Just as Susanne feared, the dark haired girl seemed completely unphased when she responded.
“Is that all he said?”
Susanne was well awake now; she tried to control her breathing, and debated saying anything else. She shouldn’t have even said what she had given what she now feared. For some reason, she felt compelled to tell her more.
“No. No, he said.” She swallowed but her mouth was parched, “He said it was a young girl, with claws.”
Susanne’s eyes traveled down to the girl’s hands. They looked normal, especially when she lifted both of them up to show Susanne, as though she were proving her innocence. That just served to frighten Susanne even more -- no one would act like this unless they were in fact the guilty party. She glanced at the bag, fearful of whatever sort of bladed claw-like thing was contained therein.
“Well, good luck to your -- family, friend. Whoever.” Susanne backed away and started walking away quickly. Long, fast steps carried her away.
She should report her to the police, she thought, but right now, she just wanted to get out of there -- get herself safe first, then think about what to do. Susanne debated running back to the hospital; but it was the opposite direction from her apartment, where she wanted to be, and a little too obvious.
She looked over her shoulder and saw the young girl was still at the bus stop, watching her. It was unnerving to say the least.
Susanne headed toward the main road, occasionally looking back to make sure she wasn’t being chased after by a crazed child slasher.
It felt like she hadn’t breathed for the longest time, but now she felt a bit safer. The bus stop was no longer visible. She had a terrible thought -- that the girl may have been going back into the hospital to finish the job on Niklas. At least there would be other people there to stop her. She’d call as soon as she got back home.
* * *
Susanne wasn’t able to keep up that pace forever. She’d slowed at some point, trying not to think about the earlier part of the evening, but her mind kept wandering back to the creepy girl. At least she wasn’t far from her rental now. The sidewalk led to a walking path that led right behind the row of homes that she was living in.
Whatever happened to that poor Niklas was terrible. If that child was mentally disturbed and cutting people, the police would pick her up soon, especially if both she and Niklas’s descriptions matched. He’d survived, and it was going to be fine. That was all she told herself as she yearned to get into her bed.
She’d walked this path a thousand times, it was usually quiet, especially at night, though she’d never been down it this late.
There was a quiet metallic thud that came from a small, graffiti covered power substation building on the side of the walking path. It startled her, and it didn’t sound like a branch had fallen. That was when she saw a pair of green iridescent reflective eyes staring at her in the darkness from atop the small shack of a building.
The body attached to those animal-like eyes creeped forward into the light provided by the street-lamp not far away. It wasn’t an animal, it was the dark haired girl from the hospital.
Seeing her all of a sudden, in such a strange place was too much and Susanne let out a yelp as she froze in place for a moment, her heart racing, and she knew exactly how much danger she was in.
The girl was hunched over like a cat, her back arched up unnaturally, and she crawled unnaturally, her legs and arms elongated looking.
Susanne’s fight or flight instinct kicked in, and she immediately started running, but her limbs felt like they were made of lead, and then, all of a sudden, she thought she was hit by a car. Into the air she went, and off of the paved path onto the grass, five or ten feet from where she was, the wind knocked out of her when she’d landed.
The dark, matted hair of that girl fell across face, and she knew she’d been attacked -- tackled somehow. A sharp sting on her neck caused her to want to shout, but she was barely able to make a sound other than that of drawing in air into her lungs.
Warmth and wetness was all she felt now, centered on her neck, and suddenly it felt like she was just kicked in the throat. A loud popping noise came along with it, followed by a deep inhale from the child who’d tackled her.
Susanne may have caught her breath now, but she still couldn’t move. Her head was being pushed down, hard, into the grass, one of her arms, too, under a slender knee, and the strength in her body was leaving her quickly.
She felt something uncomfortable against her neck -- not that it wasn’t already stinging badly, something scraping against it, and then there was a sickening sound of a thick, viscous liquid trickling into an empty plastic container. She coughed and tasted that tell tale metallic flavor of her blood on her tongue.
The large, black eyes of the pale, dark haired girl appeared over her, blocking out the light of the lamp overhead. A few droplets of her own blood fell from the girl’s mouth onto Susanne’s cheeks.
Panicked, Susanne tried to call out for help, but there was simply no sound. The girl’s hand had moved from her forehead to her neck, choking her. And then she spoke.
“Sorry, it wasn’t supposed to be you.”
---
The bright lights which surrounded the hospital were almost blinding to her as she exited through the sliding glass doors, and they didn’t help her headache one bit. It was late; Susanne was sore, exhausted, dehydrated, and quite sober now. The hospital Mattias had sought to get to was much further than he’d thought. Luckily for them, they had carried Niklas for no more than a block before someone stopped to help, and gave them a ride. They’d all crammed into a small car with the stranger. Niklas had lost consciousness sometime along the way, she couldn’t remember when.
Susanne had waited with Mattias for close to an hour before she decided to head back to her apartment. It was all a bit much, and she hadn’t signed up for any of this.
She grimaced at the wind as she made her way toward the bus stop right outside.
No bus, of course not.
She should wait, no doubt one would be along soon, faster than walking. She sat down on the frigid bench and huddled her arms. But, she thought, at any moment Mattias could come out of there and find her. She didn’t want that, she didn’t know him that well, and she didn’t want to talk anymore, or see him anymore. She just wanted to go home and sleep, and forget this night.
The cold, wet air wasn’t invigorating to her like it normally was, it just stung her face. She grew antsy quickly, and just as she was about to stand up to leave, she was frozen in place by a voice beside her.
“Is he alright?”
It had surprised her, and she snapped her head to the side to look.
Nobody had been at the bus stop when she got there, and she hadn’t noticed anyone except for the stray nurse or doctor coming or going nearby. But this wasn’t a doctor, it was a young girl who looked far less prepared than she did for the cold, with an old shoulder bag that looked like it belonged to her father. Somehow she’d more or less sat beside Susanne without her realizing it, which she blamed on how tired she was.
“Huh?” Susanne simply didn’t know how to respond, she hadn’t even really processed the question. Why was this girl even talking to her?
The girl inched closer to where she was, her dark hair hanging forward, wet and matted looking.
---
“The man you brought here. Is he still alive?”
The way she’d asked that, so oddly matter-of-fact caught Susanne off guard, but kids were like that, right?
“Yeah, they, they think he’s going to be fine.” In the middle of it, Susanne’s mind had pieced the rest together -- this girl must have seen them come in. Given how she had no coat, she’d probably left it inside, in whatever room whatever family member of hers was in.
“Is... is whoever you’re here with alright?” Susanne squinted, worried she may be trespassing on a bad event.
The girl hesitated to answer before she put on an odd, forced-looking smile, nodding.
“Yes, he’s fine.”
Susanne didn’t want to press the issue as to who it was -- she didn’t even want to keep talking with this girl.
“That’s good -- I think I’m going to walk home. Good luck, alright?” Susanne stood up and turned about, attempting to excuse herself from the situation, but the girl rose to her feet as well, continuing to question her.
“What happened to him?”
Susanne looked over her shoulder at the girl, who took yet another step toward her.
“To the man you brought here.”
Susanne felt her heart race -- it was something about the girl’s eyes, the way she was looking at her. And then it clicked, and she said it, her voice wavering slightly.
“He was stabbed.”
“Oh.”
Just as Susanne feared, the dark haired girl seemed completely unphased when she responded.
“Is that all he said?”
Susanne was well awake now; she tried to control her breathing, and debated saying anything else. She shouldn’t have even said what she had given what she now feared. For some reason, she felt compelled to tell her more.
“No. No, he said.” She swallowed but her mouth was parched, “He said it was a young girl, with claws.”
Susanne’s eyes traveled down to the girl’s hands. They looked normal, especially when she lifted both of them up to show Susanne, as though she were proving her innocence. That just served to frighten Susanne even more -- no one would act like this unless they were in fact the guilty party. She glanced at the bag, fearful of whatever sort of bladed claw-like thing was contained therein.
“Well, good luck to your -- family, friend. Whoever.” Susanne backed away and started walking away quickly. Long, fast steps carried her away.
She should report her to the police, she thought, but right now, she just wanted to get out of there -- get herself safe first, then think about what to do. Susanne debated running back to the hospital; but it was the opposite direction from her apartment, where she wanted to be, and a little too obvious.
She looked over her shoulder and saw the young girl was still at the bus stop, watching her. It was unnerving to say the least.
Susanne headed toward the main road, occasionally looking back to make sure she wasn’t being chased after by a crazed child slasher.
It felt like she hadn’t breathed for the longest time, but now she felt a bit safer. The bus stop was no longer visible. She had a terrible thought -- that the girl may have been going back into the hospital to finish the job on Niklas. At least there would be other people there to stop her. She’d call as soon as she got back home.
* * *
Susanne wasn’t able to keep up that pace forever. She’d slowed at some point, trying not to think about the earlier part of the evening, but her mind kept wandering back to the creepy girl. At least she wasn’t far from her rental now. The sidewalk led to a walking path that led right behind the row of homes that she was living in.
Whatever happened to that poor Niklas was terrible. If that child was mentally disturbed and cutting people, the police would pick her up soon, especially if both she and Niklas’s descriptions matched. He’d survived, and it was going to be fine. That was all she told herself as she yearned to get into her bed.
She’d walked this path a thousand times, it was usually quiet, especially at night, though she’d never been down it this late.
There was a quiet metallic thud that came from a small, graffiti covered power substation building on the side of the walking path. It startled her, and it didn’t sound like a branch had fallen. That was when she saw a pair of green iridescent reflective eyes staring at her in the darkness from atop the small shack of a building.
The body attached to those animal-like eyes creeped forward into the light provided by the street-lamp not far away. It wasn’t an animal, it was the dark haired girl from the hospital.
Seeing her all of a sudden, in such a strange place was too much and Susanne let out a yelp as she froze in place for a moment, her heart racing, and she knew exactly how much danger she was in.
The girl was hunched over like a cat, her back arched up unnaturally, and she crawled unnaturally, her legs and arms elongated looking.
Susanne’s fight or flight instinct kicked in, and she immediately started running, but her limbs felt like they were made of lead, and then, all of a sudden, she thought she was hit by a car. Into the air she went, and off of the paved path onto the grass, five or ten feet from where she was, the wind knocked out of her when she’d landed.
The dark, matted hair of that girl fell across face, and she knew she’d been attacked -- tackled somehow. A sharp sting on her neck caused her to want to shout, but she was barely able to make a sound other than that of drawing in air into her lungs.
Warmth and wetness was all she felt now, centered on her neck, and suddenly it felt like she was just kicked in the throat. A loud popping noise came along with it, followed by a deep inhale from the child who’d tackled her.
Susanne may have caught her breath now, but she still couldn’t move. Her head was being pushed down, hard, into the grass, one of her arms, too, under a slender knee, and the strength in her body was leaving her quickly.
She felt something uncomfortable against her neck -- not that it wasn’t already stinging badly, something scraping against it, and then there was a sickening sound of a thick, viscous liquid trickling into an empty plastic container. She coughed and tasted that tell tale metallic flavor of her blood on her tongue.
The large, black eyes of the pale, dark haired girl appeared over her, blocking out the light of the lamp overhead. A few droplets of her own blood fell from the girl’s mouth onto Susanne’s cheeks.
Panicked, Susanne tried to call out for help, but there was simply no sound. The girl’s hand had moved from her forehead to her neck, choking her. And then she spoke.
“Sorry, it wasn’t supposed to be you.”
---
Re: Thursday Evening (Fanfic)
Very nice buildup of unease throughout the scene.
De höll om varandra i tystnad. Oskar blundade och visste: detta var det största. Ljuset från lyktan i portvalvet trängde svagt in genom hans slutna ögonlock, la en hinna av rött för hans ögon. Det största.
Re: Thursday Evening (Fanfic)
Thank you.When I had originally written this story, I had skipped over most of what's actually in this thread now. It was much more concise, but as I re-read it, I had the desire to dive in and explore things a little more. Anyways, I wanted to write from Eli's perspective again. I found it hard though, I almost felt nervous doing so.
---
Slow, deep breaths came from the small body, sat beside the one lying supine on the ground. Their head was held low, between their shoulders, with a matted nest of dark hair fallen over the face.
Some kills were easier than others, not just in difficulty, but in the toll they took mentally. Eli didn’t know this woman, but something about that made it worse tonight, having switched targets. There wasn’t any hunger at all, so this kill was all Eli’s own doing, and not at all the infection’s. But getting this blood was important, necessary.
Inhaling sharply managed to stave off this sudden, unexpected urge to cry -- but doing so came with the slightest whiff of the metallic smell of the woman’s blood. Immediately, a tongue that felt otherworldly was licking over the blood stuck to Eli’s lips and forcing a swallow to get a second taste.
In the middle of the feeding, Eli had managed to stop and pry the infection’s tongue and teeth away with that sickening sound. It had been beaten, but only temporarily, just long enough to capture as much of the blood as possible in the carton swiped from Patrik and Emma’s fridge.
Now it was back, and Eli’s left hand trembled, squeezing the mostly filled liter sized container while the other hand fumbled for the cap, eyes held shut so as to not see any of the blood or the body. Eventually the cap was on tightly, and a few more deep breaths from Eli brought everything back under control. Had he actually been hungry, it probably would have been impossible to separate willfully from her neck.
The woman on the blood-soaked ground sputtered, a shallow bit of breath visible in the cold night air.
She was still alive, of course, likely unconscious, her body barely clinging to life for a few moments longer.
Eli looked at her, and any regret or empathy drained out with the last bit of blood the woman had; in a flash her neck was broken, and so, no more breaths.
It would have been an odd sight to see this frail looking small child being able to drag a full grown woman with ease, but luckily nobody was around to witness it. The body was brought back behind the small, graffiti covered building off the side of the path.
From the darkness, Eli emerged once again onto the paved walkway and picked up the shoulder bag which contained the life-giving, short-living substance that Oskar would need. Eli spent a moment there in silence, mouth still covered in blood, emotionless, before turning back down the path; the hospital was that way.
At least one other person in Karlstad now knew what Eli looked like. When this body was found, and it would be found quickly, that person would tell the police who he saw; what he saw. Tying up loose ends was never pleasant, and something Eli often avoided, but now it seemed more important than ever.
Eli looked over his shoulder in the direction the woman had been heading, it was also the path to what was most important to him, it was the way back to Oskar.
---
Re: Thursday Evening (Fanfic)
No criticism of your story intended, but I have thought a bit during the years about Eli twisting Jocke's neck in the movie, and I don't think it would be as quick and easy to do it as is shown there. A human neck is rather strong, so Eli would have to get a firm hold of the victim's head and body to succeed. Furthermore, the novel states that Jocke's head was twisted almost fully around, which adds to the problem.
Thus:
Thus:
Eli crawled on top of the woman again, took a firm hold of her head and locked his legs around her body. Then he began twisting her head around, having to shift his grip several times before he was finished. The sound when bones and tendons were torn off was horrible. Oskar looked away and was on the verge of covering his ears too, but managed to stop himself. He felt that he ought to assist and was ashamed that he didn't, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it.
From one of my unpublished fragments of fan fiction.
But from the beginning Eli was just Eli. Nothing. Anything. And he is still a mystery to me. John Ajvide Lindqvist
Re: Thursday Evening (Fanfic)
This next part is unfortunately a bit repetitive now that I've written the previous victim-perspective passage.
--
Emma looked down at the young boy, fast asleep, lying against her. Being here for him had warmed her heart, at first, she’d even dozed off briefly. When she awoke, still in the black of night, she had become far less comfortable with the situation.
For that brief moment she was out, he’d moved. He had draped himself atop her, his head upon her upper chest. Even if he had done it just to get comfortable, it was making her uncomfortable, physically and otherwise. She wanted to get back to Patrick, back to her own bed.
Emma watched him for a moment longer; fast asleep... and not breathing? Her heart raced, and then he breathed, deeply, and so did she. She spent another minute figuring out how she’d go about leaving.
Just talk to him.
“How long--” She cleared her throat, raised her voice a bit.
“How long ago did you leave home?” Emma knew that wasn’t going to do it, she was just testing the waters to see how deeply asleep he was. But to her surprise, he had an instantaneous response.
“Just yesterday.” His eyes were still shut.
“What?” Her heart skipped a beat.
Was he pretending to sleep this entire time?
“I left home yesterday.”
“Yesterday?” She calmed herself and focused on trying to help him, to help herself. “You poor thing, you can just go right home, I bet nobody will think twice.”
Kids ran away all the time, she figured, and then came right back. But she didn’t know his situation.
“No, I can’t.”
Emma shifted underneath him attempting to sit up straight; he didn’t move from his position on her in the slightest.
“Don’t you have people who are worried about you? A mother or...?” She bit her tongue after speaking, having assumed the worst after saying it.
He didn’t respond so quickly this time, and Emma quickly tried to apologize.
“I’m sorry, maybe not, and your home is... maybe isn’t a safe place.” She hesitantly patted the boy’s shoulders, not sure if it was consoling at all, but it was a good way to excuse giving her some leverage to move out from underneath him.
“No, I do. It’s...” He hesitated, “It’s not bad at home. But I can’t.”
“Why? They must be worried sick.” She shifted back.
“Probably.”
He sounded ever so sad, yet resolved in the situation.
“Have you called her? Just to tell her you are alright.”
“No, I can’t.”
“Why not? She needs to know.”
Emma wasn’t sure if this was the right way to help him, but calling his mother seemed like a great first step.
The boy didn’t respond immediately, and then Emma felt his mouth, which rested on her clavicle, move -- it had curled into a grin, and then he started snickering to himself.
Emma winced, his reaction felt so unsettling and unprompted. He eventually stopped laughing to answer her.
“That’s just how it is.”
Emma didn’t even know how to respond, or what had been funny.
“Do they... hurt you?”
“I can’t talk about it. Can you just?”
“Sorry.” Emma immediately went quiet, and any progress she’d made in distancing herself physically from him was suddenly taken away. He nuzzled up onto her and rested his hands on her shoulders, as though he wanted to go back to sleep... if he had ever been sleeping.
“You...” The boy’s voice lowered to an almost whisper, “You can help me you know.”
“I -- I can? How?” Could she really? She wanted to, a little for him, mostly for herself. It would feel good to help him though.
“Yes, I just need a little...”
Emma shivered once again, that time his breath had been on her neck, and that was more than enough for her. She gripped his arms tightly.
“No, no.” Firm, like a teacher, or a dog trainer.
He must have been so confused, she figured. She shuddered at the thought of how he may have been abused. But whatever had happened to him, she had to put an end to this situation right now.
Except, he didn’t let her. He gripped her right back in a strange sort of embrace.
She pushed hard and lifted him right off of the sofa, giving their bodies a few inches of breathing room, but that was just his body, his head was still close to, no, now it was pressed against her neck.
“Look, Patrik and I can help you -- but this isn’t -- you need to stop.” Emma heard the door to their apartment open. If one had listened closely, it was clear that the latch had never been closed, propped open in some way such that someone could get in without a key, or without even using the handle.
Excellent, his girlfriend is back.
That would solve this awkward situation. Surely he would immediately jump back to her, and the two of them could get back to necking or whatever they did with one another. Emma didn’t really care any longer as long as this stopped.
The light to the living room was switched on.
She pushed against the boy again, and again his body moved but his head didn’t. It only was when she turned to get a look at the girl coming in, not wanting her to get the wrong idea, that she felt the hot, stinging sensation in her neck, and then a tearing.
Emma gasped and immediately felt a warm trail of liquid on her, and then a tight sensation on her throat as the boy’s face pressed hard into her neck. Her hands instinctively went up to her neck to grab at the pain, they found the boy’s face and hair. She scratched and pulled at him with all her might as her heart raced and she began to panic.
It hurt to move, but she struggled anyway. It was clear to her now, he was biting her, tearing into her like a rabid animal or something of the sort. He was so strong for someone with such skinny arms, stronger than her it felt like. She couldn’t pull him off of her at all. She shut her eyes tightly and managed to get in a deep breath, enough to finally scream when she felt neck strangled and a hand pressed over her mouth.
Her eyes shot open again to see a pair of feminine looking eyes, framed by dark hair staring at her, emotionlessly. It was the girl, and she was helping to strangle and gag her with her bare hands. There was a disgusting sound of sucking throughout it all, and she quickly felt her energy draining from her with each passing second. Emma bit down hard on the girl’s fingers to no avail, she didn’t make a sound. With her last bit of strength, she threw her arms out to the side hitting the girl in the face and the lamp off of the table onto the wood floor with a loud thud.
Then it was her turn to hit the floor, tumbling off the couch, the boy’s face never once leaving her neck, and the girl hovering over her the entire time, staring at her in the eyes.
Emma’s throat was released and she gasped for air, barely able to breath, certainly unable to scream. She was being murdered by two children she had been trying to help, for reasons she could not understand.
She stared up, hopelessly, blinking just once more, gazing into the ever so heartless eyes of the young girl, feeling an intense suction on the right side of her neck.
Darkness seeped in from all sides of her vision.
--
--
Emma looked down at the young boy, fast asleep, lying against her. Being here for him had warmed her heart, at first, she’d even dozed off briefly. When she awoke, still in the black of night, she had become far less comfortable with the situation.
For that brief moment she was out, he’d moved. He had draped himself atop her, his head upon her upper chest. Even if he had done it just to get comfortable, it was making her uncomfortable, physically and otherwise. She wanted to get back to Patrick, back to her own bed.
Emma watched him for a moment longer; fast asleep... and not breathing? Her heart raced, and then he breathed, deeply, and so did she. She spent another minute figuring out how she’d go about leaving.
Just talk to him.
“How long--” She cleared her throat, raised her voice a bit.
“How long ago did you leave home?” Emma knew that wasn’t going to do it, she was just testing the waters to see how deeply asleep he was. But to her surprise, he had an instantaneous response.
“Just yesterday.” His eyes were still shut.
“What?” Her heart skipped a beat.
Was he pretending to sleep this entire time?
“I left home yesterday.”
“Yesterday?” She calmed herself and focused on trying to help him, to help herself. “You poor thing, you can just go right home, I bet nobody will think twice.”
Kids ran away all the time, she figured, and then came right back. But she didn’t know his situation.
“No, I can’t.”
Emma shifted underneath him attempting to sit up straight; he didn’t move from his position on her in the slightest.
“Don’t you have people who are worried about you? A mother or...?” She bit her tongue after speaking, having assumed the worst after saying it.
He didn’t respond so quickly this time, and Emma quickly tried to apologize.
“I’m sorry, maybe not, and your home is... maybe isn’t a safe place.” She hesitantly patted the boy’s shoulders, not sure if it was consoling at all, but it was a good way to excuse giving her some leverage to move out from underneath him.
“No, I do. It’s...” He hesitated, “It’s not bad at home. But I can’t.”
“Why? They must be worried sick.” She shifted back.
“Probably.”
He sounded ever so sad, yet resolved in the situation.
“Have you called her? Just to tell her you are alright.”
“No, I can’t.”
“Why not? She needs to know.”
Emma wasn’t sure if this was the right way to help him, but calling his mother seemed like a great first step.
The boy didn’t respond immediately, and then Emma felt his mouth, which rested on her clavicle, move -- it had curled into a grin, and then he started snickering to himself.
Emma winced, his reaction felt so unsettling and unprompted. He eventually stopped laughing to answer her.
“That’s just how it is.”
Emma didn’t even know how to respond, or what had been funny.
“Do they... hurt you?”
“I can’t talk about it. Can you just?”
“Sorry.” Emma immediately went quiet, and any progress she’d made in distancing herself physically from him was suddenly taken away. He nuzzled up onto her and rested his hands on her shoulders, as though he wanted to go back to sleep... if he had ever been sleeping.
“You...” The boy’s voice lowered to an almost whisper, “You can help me you know.”
“I -- I can? How?” Could she really? She wanted to, a little for him, mostly for herself. It would feel good to help him though.
“Yes, I just need a little...”
Emma shivered once again, that time his breath had been on her neck, and that was more than enough for her. She gripped his arms tightly.
“No, no.” Firm, like a teacher, or a dog trainer.
He must have been so confused, she figured. She shuddered at the thought of how he may have been abused. But whatever had happened to him, she had to put an end to this situation right now.
Except, he didn’t let her. He gripped her right back in a strange sort of embrace.
She pushed hard and lifted him right off of the sofa, giving their bodies a few inches of breathing room, but that was just his body, his head was still close to, no, now it was pressed against her neck.
“Look, Patrik and I can help you -- but this isn’t -- you need to stop.” Emma heard the door to their apartment open. If one had listened closely, it was clear that the latch had never been closed, propped open in some way such that someone could get in without a key, or without even using the handle.
Excellent, his girlfriend is back.
That would solve this awkward situation. Surely he would immediately jump back to her, and the two of them could get back to necking or whatever they did with one another. Emma didn’t really care any longer as long as this stopped.
The light to the living room was switched on.
She pushed against the boy again, and again his body moved but his head didn’t. It only was when she turned to get a look at the girl coming in, not wanting her to get the wrong idea, that she felt the hot, stinging sensation in her neck, and then a tearing.
Emma gasped and immediately felt a warm trail of liquid on her, and then a tight sensation on her throat as the boy’s face pressed hard into her neck. Her hands instinctively went up to her neck to grab at the pain, they found the boy’s face and hair. She scratched and pulled at him with all her might as her heart raced and she began to panic.
It hurt to move, but she struggled anyway. It was clear to her now, he was biting her, tearing into her like a rabid animal or something of the sort. He was so strong for someone with such skinny arms, stronger than her it felt like. She couldn’t pull him off of her at all. She shut her eyes tightly and managed to get in a deep breath, enough to finally scream when she felt neck strangled and a hand pressed over her mouth.
Her eyes shot open again to see a pair of feminine looking eyes, framed by dark hair staring at her, emotionlessly. It was the girl, and she was helping to strangle and gag her with her bare hands. There was a disgusting sound of sucking throughout it all, and she quickly felt her energy draining from her with each passing second. Emma bit down hard on the girl’s fingers to no avail, she didn’t make a sound. With her last bit of strength, she threw her arms out to the side hitting the girl in the face and the lamp off of the table onto the wood floor with a loud thud.
Then it was her turn to hit the floor, tumbling off the couch, the boy’s face never once leaving her neck, and the girl hovering over her the entire time, staring at her in the eyes.
Emma’s throat was released and she gasped for air, barely able to breath, certainly unable to scream. She was being murdered by two children she had been trying to help, for reasons she could not understand.
She stared up, hopelessly, blinking just once more, gazing into the ever so heartless eyes of the young girl, feeling an intense suction on the right side of her neck.
Darkness seeped in from all sides of her vision.
--
Re: Thursday Evening (Fanfic)
Well, I did have a hunch that this would happen.
And so it did. Poor Emma.
And so it did. Poor Emma.
But from the beginning Eli was just Eli. Nothing. Anything. And he is still a mystery to me. John Ajvide Lindqvist
Re: Thursday Evening (Fanfic)
Indeed.
I'd started hoping for a different ending for her and Patrik.I appreciate the commitment to showing O&E's monstrousness in detail. The image of Eli coming to Oskar's aid without hesitation and doing it in such a simple yet cold way--while letting Oskar perform most of his first kill on his own--especially stands out IMO.
De höll om varandra i tystnad. Oskar blundade och visste: detta var det största. Ljuset från lyktan i portvalvet trängde svagt in genom hans slutna ögonlock, la en hinna av rött för hans ögon. Det största.
Re: Thursday Evening (Fanfic)
Hm, very true! So many movies portray it so easily done, too. I think making it take more effort really adds to the weight of what Eli, and now Oskar, have to deal with mentally as well. I am going to take that into account in the future.metoo wrote: ↑Tue Apr 19, 2022 12:04 pmNo criticism of your story intended, but I have thought a bit during the years about Eli twisting Jocke's neck in the movie, and I don't think it would be as quick and easy to do it as is shown there. A human neck is rather strong, so Eli would have to get a firm hold of the victim's head and body to succeed. Furthermore, the novel states that Jocke's head was twisted almost fully around, which adds to the problem.
I do want to give some counter points though:
Eli is very strong, when he needs to be, and especially if he’s fully fed. When enraged, he can apparently lift people up into the air and decapitate them. I imagine there are several quick ways Eli could break a neck if he decided to tap into that strength or shape his hand differently.
I also tend to believe he was going very easy on Oskar during their emotionally charged wrestling scene, and let Oskar hold his arms down.
All that being said, in the passage above, Eli is certainly not in that mental or physical state, and it likely would have taken much more effort as you suggest. So I think I’d like to make the “in a flash” in my story to be interpreted more as: “Once Eli had regained control of his emotions, it took very little time for him to move on and finish the job as he had done so often before,” without going into detail about exactly how it was done or how much effort it took.
(And no worries, critique or not, I appreciate all the feedback and discussion.)
I know how hard it can be to pick up and finish writing an old bit of work... but you can’t just post this and not any more of that story. It’s just cruel.metoo wrote: ↑Tue Apr 19, 2022 12:04 pmThus:Eli crawled on top of the woman again, took a firm hold of her head and locked his legs around her body. Then he began twisting her head around, having to shift his grip several times before he was finished. The sound when bones and tendons were torn off was horrible. Oskar looked away and was on the verge of covering his ears too, but managed to stop himself. He felt that he ought to assist and was ashamed that he didn't, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it.
From one of my unpublished fragments of fan fiction.
Siggdalos wrote: ↑Thu Apr 21, 2022 8:57 pmIndeed.
I appreciate the commitment to showing O&E's monstrousness in detail. The image of Eli coming to Oskar's aid without hesitation and doing it in such a simple yet cold way--while letting Oskar perform most of his first kill on his own--especially stands out IMO.
Emma had such a good chance, too... but the infection’s influence over a newly turned Oskar was too much for him, and Eli just didn’t get back in time.