Visitant

Alright, so this is just a short little experiment I did to try my hand at writing in 1st person and in a present tense. I haven’t really given much thought to continuing it, but I probably will if it’s well received.

Anyways, let me know what you guys think.

As I wearily close the apartment door behind me,  the usual wave of transient relief I feel in escaping from the outside world softly comes washing in, reminding me that I’ve somehow made it another day.

Tossing the various flyers and envelopes I clutch in my hand into the  mound of unread and unwanted mail on the small table I have set by the door,  my legs then carry me automatically to the cramped kitchen that’s huddled uncomfortably in the far corner of the unit’s floor plan. It’s a familiar trek, a habitual pilgrimage to the bounties of liquor I have stored away. . .in a sense, it’s almost a ritual.

Swinging open a number of creaking cabinet doors, I lazily take stock of the various gins, bourbons, and brandies available to me –and I turn away. Though the sumptuous gathering  of spirits would’ve once been something I would regularly and heartily indulge in,  in the past few years I’ve come to find  it all much too exotic, too pretentious, and too costly. . . after all, why bother suckling at a bottle of cognac when a healthy serving of trashy whiskey  will blur the nightmare of my existence and the world around me all the same? 

Seizing a carton of leftover Chinese take-out from the kitchen’s largely barren refrigerator and a bottle of the cheapest, strongest liquor I can find, I then move to sit on a creaky stool settled in front of the kitchen’s bottle-polluted island and busily devour my dinner, futilely perpetuating my meaningless, deleterious existence with whatever nutrients I can extract from the meal.

As I eat, black thoughts and memories occasionally bubble up to the surface of my mind, seemingly seeking to exploit the moment of vulnerability; however, they’re all quickly sent back down into the lightless depths of myself after I douse them in a good measure of alcohol. It’s not a perfect system. . .but it usually works, and that’s all I can be bothered to care about anymore.

Rising up from the stool, my meal finished, I subsequently meander to the bathroom for a quick shower before I promptly make ready for a night of fitful sleep. However, just as I lazily reach my bedroom’s threshold, still dewy and bedecked in little more than my ragged boxers,  a sudden shudder ripples up along my spine; its a cold, electric, deeply sobering feeling. . .and its meaning is something that’s all too familiar to me by now.  
 
Instinctually, I retreat back to the bathroom and quickly fetch the gun I’ve left on the dampened countertop; much to a distant and passive annoyance, I feel as adrenaline begins cutting cleanly through the comfortable numbness of my intoxication whilst I quietly slink back to the brink between the hall and the pit of shadow that is my bedroom.

Stepping hesitantly into the dark, I cautiously aim my weapon ahead of me with one hand while I search for the lightswitch with the other; though I’ve already flipped the thing a thousand times by this point, the switch now somehow seems to elude me as I blindly sweep my fingers along the wall for a small eternity before I then finally reach it. However, just as I prepare to flip it, I notice something: two small beads of red light, seemingly suspended in the air over the  side of my bed.

At first dazzled and confused by the odd displays of incandescence, my heart abruptly begins to sink low in my chest as the realization of what they are comes into mind.  They’re eyes. . .her eyes.

Instantaneously, my undiluted, visceral fear drains away into confusion and annoyance as I flick on the room’s light and find myself face-to-face with a creature of ungodly feminine beauty: a succubus, utter perfection given form.

“The fuck are you doin’ back here?!” I somehow bark out, struggling to pull my eyes away from the irresistible entity sitting primly on the side of my bed. 

Parting her perfectly plump lips into an ensnaring smile,  the creature softly chirps, “Why, exactly what I said I would! Surely you remember the little promise I made you last night. . .right?”

The question throws me, if only momentarily, as I hurriedly sift through the scarce traces of memory I have of the previous night. Though the majority of its events are forever lost in blackness, I do faintly recall a feeling of terrible fear. . .a presence in the darkness of the night, and a voice. Hers.

Try as I might, I can’t remember what she said, just the meaningless sound of her words.

“I remember you bothering me.” I grumble, trying to somehow keep the barrel of my weapon centered on the woman’s mind-warping chest without looking directly at it. Inevitably, however, I do. . .and each time I slip up, I feel the waves of an invisible energy pass through my skin and crash against something within me, eroding it, making it harder and harder to think straight.

Seemingly sensing the effect that she’s having on me, the creature twists her lips into a sly grin and smoothly crosses her arms, “Hm. . .I suppose I’m not too terribly surprised that you don’t remember anything. You were extraordinarily drunk last night. But I suppose that makes sense, considering what happened. . . .”

For a moment something slips loose in my mind, freeing a hazy memory of my hands, shaking and bloodslicked, under the flow of a dingy sink’s waters after a terrible, terrible, accident. 

“You never gave me all the specifics of the matter,” she sighs, “but from what little you did mention, I’d wager you must’ve done something awfully naughty to cause yourself so— much —grief.” Taking in a deep, softly melodic breath of the room’s air, the creature seems to savor that final word. . .to almost draw on it like oxygen.

It makes my skin crawl.

“Mmm. . .you know, all of that raw, untapped emotion of yours is what brought me to you,” she purrs sensually. “And truth be told, it’s also why I’m going t–”

“Well I guess it’s quite a shame that all of that was just a one time thing then,” I interject forcibly, coiling my finger around the handgun’s trigger with a practiced perfection. “So, now that all of that’s in the past, I think it’s time for you to get the fuck out of here before I decide to ventilate you. . .”

Somehow, in my intoxicated and degraded state of mind, I manage to delude myself into thinking that the threat of violence will be enough to scare the otherworldly thing away. . .but she just smiles a cold, predatory smile. 

“Oh come now sweetie. . .do you really want to risk all the noise and commotion that’s going to come with pulling that trigger?” she asks softly, shaping her voice into a gentle song of reproach before she casually extends a slender hand toward me, then forms it into a small fist. At first questioning the gesture, my eyes automatically widen when, to my very sober surprise, I then see  the barrel of my gun  begin to crush and warp under the weight of an imperceptible force,  crumbling until it’s swiftly rendered an inoperable, irreparable piece of  scrap. 

“Fuckin’ hell. . .” I utter in a mixture of both horror and astonishment as I briefly look over my ruined gun then instinctively begin shuffling backwards, trying to escape.

“Oh, no no no. . .” the creature mockingly giggles only a second or two before she  makes a quick gesture at the door with the tip of her finger and subsequently causes it to violently slam shut behind me. “You and I have a few things to discuss, darling.”

“Yeah, I suppose we do. . .” I respond gruffly, trying to let my agitation shine brighter than the fear that’s welling up within me. Tightly clutching my broken gun  to hide the shake in my hands, I sharply add, “The most important of which is probably why you’ve decided to come back and keep bothering me.”

Evidently not expecting such a reply, the smile momentarily disappears from the creature’s face before returning a few seconds later when she parts her lips to speak.
 “~Oh you poor, silly little thing,” she sighs,  “that is a perfect example of why I’m so intrigued by you. You try acting truculent and rough, like you’re the harshest man on the planet. . .but, deep down, I think we both know exactly what you really are.”

Scoffing, I try not to fixate on what she says, to let it all just pass over me, but there’s something about her tone and the unrelenting scrutiny of her sultrily lowered eyes that makes me feel as though she’s seeing something more than what is immediately visible. . .like she’s almost seeing into me. 

“All that pain. All that suffering. All that. . .desire,”  the succubus chuckles lightly, “you can’t hide any of it from me. It’s what brought me to you. . .and it’s what’s going to keep bringing me back, every night, until you finally succumb to my w–.” 

“I ain’t succumbing to a fuckin’ thing, least of all you, so fuck off and go find yourself another soul to eat!”  I snap, bolstering my facade of aggression with a false, thunderous bravado. Though I’m gripping my weapon until my knuckles turn white, I can still feel my hands shaking.

I want to leave. I need to leave. But before I can even begin to think about turning myself towards the bedroom door, the creature wags a slender finger at me.

“I wouldn’t try that if I were you. Silly boy.”

“Wouldn’t try what?”  I question sharply and immediately, trying to conceal the   horror that fills me at the thought of the man-eater having somehow managed to read my mind.

Grinning knowingly,  the voluptuous intruder takes time in giving her reply,  matching the beat of every word with a playful swing of her slender, spaded tail: “To–go–for–the–door–you–silly—little—boy.”

Seeing the look of shock that promptly spreads over my face at hearing her words causes one of glowing triumph to wash over hers, albeit only temporarily, before the anxiety surging within me causes my body to suddenly and autonomously explodes into movement.

Without committing so much as a single conscious thought toward the effort, I watch  as my arm  winds back and quickly snaps forward, throwing my broken gun directly at the creature’s face. Though the throw is slightly wide of its intended target, it’s still sufficient enough to distract the intruder as I then automatically lunge forward to the nightstand beside my bed; in a flash of thoughtless movement, I quickly pull the drawer open, retrieve a second gun from inside –and stuff it under my chin.

In an instant, all the confidence in the succubi’s face drains away to an expression of deep, unrestrained horror as she sees the weapon. “Whoa! H-hey! Don’t do anything stupid with that!” She yelps, completely freezing in place.

Seeing the genuine fear that’s gripping the fiend, I suddenly realize that in putting her meal on the line I’ve now stolen nearly all control of the situation away from her. . .all on a desperate, thoughtless impulse.

“Stupid?” I ask with a small, sour snicker, “Putting a nine through my skull would be the smartest thing I’ve ever done!” Though I mean every word I say, I also find myself mentally teetering with uncertainty; somewhere deep inside me, I feel a panic rage and burn as I tread the thin line between merely threatening to end myself. . .and actually having a desire to do it.

At first furrowing her brows uncomfortably at my words, the she-devil then seems to consider something within them. . .something more than just their mere composition.  Breaking the taut silence that briefly settles between us with her chillingly gentle voice, she then abruptly asks, “Do you really think that lowly of yourself?” 

Keeping my finger perched warily on the trigger of my firearm, I reply simply and mindlessly, “Yeah. . .I do.”

Something, though I’m not quite sure what, then seems to change in the creature’s demeanor; maybe it’s the renewed predatory glint in her eye, maybe it’s the way her tail again begins to hypnotically dance and sway through the air, or maybe it’s just the wad of booze-soaked Chinese food in my gut going sour, I can’t really tell. . .but whatever it is, I suddenly get a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“I don’t think you do.” the fiend suddenly purrs, her voice as soft and sweet as a summer breeze. “I think that, being the distraught little thing you are, you’ve just disparaged and abused yourself to the point that you’ve reconciled your own inner negativities as truth, ” she adds, gracefully crossing her slender arms. “But you’re not irredeemable. . .or at least not quite as much as you might think you are.”

For whatever reason, the rejuvenating confidence in her voice doesn’t threaten me so much as it aggravates me. Like a fool, I’m too blind to see that the tables are already turning back around again.

“And what would a literal fucking parasite  know about redemption?” I grumble, expecting the aggression in my voice and the precariousness of the scenario to work together in my favor.  Again. . .like a fool.

“Far more than a self-pitying failure of a man ever would. . .”

Instantaneously, the words of the fiend jab in and stoke my irritation to greater heights, trouncing  my restraint.  “Oh really?! Because you’d think that something that. .has. . .” I slowly grind to a halt, suddenly realizing that I lack the rabid desire to follow through with the rebuttal. 

“Do you honestly think I care about what you think bitch?” I ask, chuckling exasperatedly, “because I don’t. I just want you gone.”

With a slow lick of her lips, the fiend grins tauntingly, seemingly sensing exactly how to push me  over the edge.  “Oh?” she asks, raising a brow, “Then why don’t you be a man for once in your life and look me in the eye while you say that, hmm?”

Though I know she’s provoking me, I can’t stop myself. Before I realize it, I’ve strode across the room and I’m glaring boldly into her glimmering ruby eyes. . .then I feel a sudden shock ripple through me.

I feel like I’m falling, but I stay upright, frozen. My body as rigid as granite.

She got me. . .the bitch got me.

Horror floods every fiber of my being as the succubus then smoothly rises from the bed, bursting into a fit of raucous, exultant laughter: her trick worked. Hook, line, and sinker. “Oh gods, now that was fun,” she chuckles, wiping a tear from her eye as she strides toward me with perverse grace.

Though I try to break free with all my might, my body still refuses to move. I’m paralyzed, helpless, hopeless. 

“~You know I must admit darling, you certainly set my little heart aflutter when you put that nasty weapon under that poor, sweet chin of yours. But now that you’re nice and safe. . .well. . .” a malicious grin slowly creeps across the she-devil’s face before she unhurriedly sashays the rest of the way up to me, deftly plucks my firearm out from my hands, then lazily takes a few steps back.

“W-wha-t. .did. .you. . .do. .to me?” I mutter, struggling against the weight of my rigidified jaw.

“It should be fairly obvious,” the creature says with a taunting grin, “I protected you, from yourself.”

“I. . .d-don’t. .need. . .p-pro-tec-tion.”

“Oh yes you do,”  she amusedly remarks. “You need protection like a flower needs sunlight. True protection. Not some pathetic thing like. . .this,” she says, filling her voice with disdain as she looks down at the pilfered gun gripped in her hands. Briefly turning the item over, the she-devil then gives a small smirk  and locks her eyes on mine before suddenly destroying the weapon, ripping it in half and disintegrating it with nothing but her bare hands.

Though the display of raw, unknowable power is something that shakes a part of me to the core, the anger in my gut distracts me from fear as I strain to scream out at the creature in rage, but ultimately only manage to utter a pathetic, incensed groan. 

Smiling mockingly at my impotent wrath,  the fiend  softly sighs, “Luckily for you, my dear, I’m going to be giving you the protection and guidance that you so desperately need. . .whether you accept it willingly or not.”

Though it’s largely diminished by the paralysis plaguing me, the confusion that strikes me in hearing the fiend’s words still manages to be expressed across my face, seemingly much to the creature’s delight.

“Yes. You did indeed hear that correctly,” she softly coos as she begins to soundlessly circle my paralyzed body,  studying me in my helpless state. “You see, without the threat of any harm coming to you, namely from yourself, we can finally have a proper conversation. Which is fortunate. . . because you have a few misconceptions that need clearing up.” 

“W-wha–” I strain, only to promptly fall silent when the succubus then presses her soft, supple body into my back and gently wreathes her arms around my neck.
“But. . .all of that can be dealt with later,” she sighs, sensually breathing her words into my ear. “For now, I think it’s time we got properly acquainted. So, let’s get you into bed. Shall we?”

8 votes, average: 4.25 out of 58 votes, average: 4.25 out of 58 votes, average: 4.25 out of 58 votes, average: 4.25 out of 58 votes, average: 4.25 out of 5 (8 votes, average: 4.25 out of 5)
You need to be a registered member to rate this post.
Loading...

10 thoughts on “Visitant”

  1. As an attempt at an unfamiliar tense I think you did a great job! You kept the plot moving nicely and there are some really great lines.

    My biggest critique would be leaning less on adverbs and putting more descriptions for your actions. It’s noticeable you use a lot when you should try lengthening out actions every now and again.

    1. Hey thanks for checking it out man!

      In regards to your critique, I’d say you’re absolutely dead-on. At the time I was writing this schlock I didn’t notice it, but dear god I sure do now.

    1. Gosh, well I’m sure glad you liked it! I really do try to take whatever critiques I get and implement them into later works as best as I can. Thanks for sticking around, man!

    1. Gosh Gutty you’re really too kind. I honestly and sincerely thank you and everyone else for choosing to spend your precious time reading my stuff.

  2. It’s interesting, and I hope to see you continue it. That said, there are a few things I noticed in the story that kept it at only good, rather than great. Mainly in the form of unanswered questions.

    -What does the nameless protagonist look like?
    -What about the nameless succubus?
    -Why a lesser succubus, when you call her a succubus throughout the story and don’t give a physical description that would have any lesser succubus traits?
    -Why is he familiar with the feeling of someone invading his home? I mean, winding up killing a robber or something would be terrible and could make someone feel a lot of guilt, but I’m not sure it’s quite as life-destroying as whatever he did. And it sounds like whatever happened was by a boat, not his house.
    -Why is she so insulting and demeaning, when she describes herself as being there to protect him? (This is my only real complaint about the lesser succubus–we aren’t reading from her perspective, so there isn’t as much to say).
    -What was it she said she’d do in their drunken meeting? She seemed surprised that he’d almost commit suicide in front of her, so it doesn’t seem like she already promised to protect him from himself.
    -Why is his reaction to “oh no, she’s reading my mind” to try to kill himself? I could see if he was, say, trying to escape the presumed soul-eating, or if he was trying to be spiteful because she wanted something from him so he’d deny her it, but from the conversation following that it sounds more like the culmination of depression–but he was more in an anger/annoyance/deep-seated terror than despair. Having attempted to commit suicide myself, his behavior here just seems incongruous to his emotions and the situation.

    The protagonist also seems somewhat hollow (apart from the obvious hollowness that a depressed person feels of themself), although part of that is because it’s such a short chapter. We know he’s depressed, that he’s a drunk who no longer cares about enjoying the drink as long as he can forget, that he’s paranoid, that he’s easily angered, that he doesn’t care about living but hasn’t reached the stage of seriously wanting to commit suicide… most of which can pretty much be compressed into the “depression” category. He’s an exceedingly flat character, whose behaviors feel like they’ve been checked off of a list that than a single, whole person.

    I want to see what you can make from this, and so I’d enjoy seeing another chapter, where we can hopefully see more of who the main character is apart from a depressed alcoholic with PTSD.

    1. Hey man thanks for checking this out, I really do appreciate it. I also appreciate the points you made in your critique, unfortunately the only thing I really have an answer for right now is in regards to the lack of description of the protagonist. Simply put, that’s just a stylistic choice I’ve come to make with my writing on tft because I want my readers to be able to envision the protagonist however they like. I know that kinda seems like a cop-out answer but it honestly just feels wrong to definitively tell you what that character’s features are and, in doing so, take away the ability for people to place themselves in the story.

      But if that isn’t really your thing, I actually do have a story with a more definite protagonist in the works right now (sort of) but I wouldn’t really expect that being made into a decent first draft, let alone being done, anytime soon though. Anyways, thanks again for checking this story out and for giving me some real straightforward critiques.

  3. There’s a lot here in this short piece. It’s written well. I liked.
    I always like when a succubus or demon shows their power in a tangible way, instead of just, she’s gonna take my soul–makes the danger feel real.

Leave a Reply