Whoa!! It’s been four years since I created my blog! 😀 😀
I am re-posting the very first story I wrote on my blog. Since it was my first story, it’s really special to me. Back then, it was read by very few people. I hope it can get more reads this time! 🙂
Dear readers, as always would love to hear your thoughts on the story! ( It was my very first attempt. Pardon the writing!)
Happy reading! 🙂
(Word Count: 387)
Bitter. Was the thought that crossed her mind when she had finished tasting blood for the first time. She had always wondered how her kind had grown to like it. Up until very recently , she had been a vegetarian. Never had she tasted any thing that had come from an animal , living or dead. But now she was trying blood for the first time and becoming what her kind were best known for. She was finally becoming a part of her family. She had seen and learnt from observing her friends and family members that having blood was a real risky thing to do. The repercussions of being caught were severe. Agreed , the abilities of her kind allowed for a quick escape even if spotted but the chances of being killed in the process were always high. However, she still began to learn her kind’s blood religion.
As the days passed by, slowly and steadily, she quite grew to enjoy the flow of the warm liquid in her mouth. The taste of blood gave her satisfaction and much more. Now that she was to become a mother, her family made her drink a much larger volume of blood. She had grown into a sort of expert. She had great eyes and could pick the least dangerous target out. But even though she was good, her bloodlust was driving her to take loads of risks.
One lonely night , she had searched long and hard for a prey but couldn’t find a soul in the otherwise crowded city. Finally, with her bloodlust reaching it’s peaks, she made her way to the city park next to the murky lake. As luck would have it, she spotted a man who was in his late sixties sitting alone on a park bench- an easy prey. Shrouded by the cover of night, she made her way stealthily towards the man from behind him with her eyes on his exposed neck. But, luck as we know is like a wheel, it turns. The moment when she was about to make her move the man turned and stared right into her eyes. Dispassionately he swung his hands back and brought them together with a clap. And that was it. She met with a sticky end.
After all, the life of a mosquito is pretty short.
(Image Credit – https://medium.com/the-establishment/the-dirty-bloody-messy-politics-of-menstruation-3aae8eae5e44)