"Drifter" drabbles by Jeff Taylor
Click, Clack...
Drifter #13
DCI Corsten had been called to the new Broadmoor Prison. One of his collars had been acting up, and would only talk to him. Something about a lady in black, they'd told him.
So he was here, prowling the dim corridors. A limerick in his head. "Click Clack. Here comes the woman in black!"
Unthinkingly he nodded at a nurse as she strode past. She nodded curtly in return, an enigmatic smile on her ruby lips.
Cornsten stopped, and turned to see no-one. Nothing there, but the chilling echoes of shoes on the tiled floor.
Click Clack.
Click Clack.
New grounds
Drifter #12
She rose through the earth, into the seductive night. She had slept long after her last feed. The ground was as warm as the air, and insects darted in the gloom. However, this was not what she had expected. Around her a high wall, topped with barbed wire, surrounded a new graveyard.
Before her a large building, indomitable in its size and purpose, imposed itself on the landscape. It had the feel of the prison where she had fed for so long in the past.
She drifted towards the towering walls of her new feedings grounds in Broadmoor prison hospital.
Ancient
Drifter #11
Angleston looked across his desk at the Chief Inspector.
"Did you know that this has been a religious site since the eighth century Chief Inspector? So yes. I know of the lady in black. I also know that her grave is outside Reading Minster."
"What is she?"
"An evil spirit would be the best way to describe her now. She used to be a vampire."
"So what do we do about it? Exorcise it? Stake it? What?"
"Well, I doubt there's anything left of her to try a traditional solution. And an exorcism is unlikely to work... Move the grave?"
Unthinkable
Drifter #10
Chief inspector Cornsten had watched the security footage over and over. He saw the young constable shoot at... nothing. Watched him stagger back out of sight of the camera on that street. Watched the grainy, dark grey blood soak into the deep snow.
A dead constable, horrifically mauled, and right in front of a security camera. And, like people in a crowd, it didn't see... anything.
It was more than bizarre, but his personal instinct, his gut, told him that there was something unholy happening here.
Which explained why he was now sat in front of the Reverend Michael Angleston.
Fountains
Drifter #9
Watts staggered backwards into the alcove where he'd been sleeping, dropping the Taser.
Fangs bared, eyes blazing and hands clawed; the woman in black flashed across the street and was on him in seconds. There was no control, just pure rage. Mouth wide open, she clamped it across Watts' throat and bit down hard. Slicing through, she tore his throat out. Bright red, arterial, blood fountained from the hole. Splashing up the alcove, and spilling out into the snow covered street.
Her frenzied attack kept up for a few moments longer, as she clawed and tore at Watts' cooling cadaver.
Gliding
Drifter #8
Constable Watts was freezing cold. He glanced at his watch, only to see that it was two thirtyish and that he had at least another six hours till he could go home.
That was when he spotted her. She was gliding over the snow. Years of policing told him this was the one they were looking for. He got up.
"Stop! Police!"
She ignored him, and carried on.
"I'm armed, and authorised to use a Taser!" She kept going. He pointed his Taser and fired. Hitting her square in the back. She stopped, and turned slowly; red eyed and hissing...
Roses
Drifter #7
Rose blood dripping down her chin, the woman in black stood up. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, smearing life across her cheek.
Done, she turned and drifted towards the road. The only trace she left behind were the spatters of red that dripped onto the undisturbed snow. Here in the yard the building sheltered her from the increasing storm. Little would be around for her now; but she had taken her fill and that was enough for this night.
Behind her, Nigel stared up at the sky. Watching the flakes fall onto his cooling eyes.
Angel
Drifter #6
Suddenly the woman was standing over Nigel. A beautiful angel of death; clad in black silk and crinoline.
He opened his mouth but, as lightning quick as a snake strike, she placed a single, ice-cold, finger over his lips.
"Shhh" She whispered.
Fear gripped Nigel's body, paralysing him in her red eyed stare. Her dress gathered around his prone body as she bent over him. "Shh" she whispered again, consoling him.
"No?" Whimpered Nigel, as she opened her mouth as if to kiss. Her icy palm clamped down over his mouth, and he felt her lips against his neck.
Silent In The Snow
Drifter #5
It was an animal instinct that woke Nigel. Something ancient, from long ago that warned furry ancestors that something was eyeing them up for food.
He snorted awake, and cracked open his crusted eyes. Behind him the fans sounded like the muffled roar of a jet engine in the distance. In front of him he watched a rake thin woman in a gothic black Victorian funeral dress come round the corner. The dress made her skin the same colour as the deep snow that was gathering now.
Then he noticed the weird thing, as she approached. There were no footprints.
Prey
Drifter #4
She emerged into the frozen night from her grave in the grounds of Reading Minster, and drifted along the alleyway that led to Broad Street. The lighting on Broad street hurt her eyes, and made her sallow skin uncomfortable, so she turned away. Her keen senses told her that prey was nearby. Keeping warm behind one of the shops where warm air came out of the building.
She slithered above the snow along Minster street. The prey was asleep. Its gentle snoring barely discernible above the quiet hum of the fans blowing warm air across it. The smell was intoxicating.
Nigel
Drifter #3
Nigel was new in Reading. He'd wandered Cardiff city centre for weeks begging for a little change, scanning the wet streets for pennies or stray fivers. His aim was to get to London, those streets of opportunity where a person could live just by keeping an eye out.
Unfortunately he could only afford a ticket as far as Reading.
The others here acted strangely though. They gathered in the light, whereas everyone knew the best places were round the backs of big stores. So he huddled in the exhaust of an air conditioning vent. Watching the heavy flakes of snow.
Woman in Black
Drifter #2
Another cold night in a snow-clad Reading.
The woman-in-black floated across the sodium coloured snow. Sashaying left to right, her movements that of a desert snake.
The homeless knew of the woman-in-black. They knew that she would avoid the glow of the streetlights, and so they gathered on the main street, avoiding the narrow alleys that were darker at night.
However, it was Christmas, and there were parties. People who did not know any better. Staggering home; full of food, and drink. Only thoughts of getting home.
So she sipped of life, here and there.
Drifter
Drifter #1
The snow drifted out of the sky. Silent. White. The street lamps were surrounded in harsh, Cherenkov blue, halos. There was no sound.
She drifted along the street. She left no footprints in her wake. Her black Victorian funeral dress made her look like a cut-out.
Licking her ruby-red lips, she spied the homeless man tucked into the doorway of a shuttered business.
Breakfast.
She glided towards the prone man huddled in his dirty sleeping bag. Her irises glowing red as she gently bent over him, clamping a steel cold hand over his mouth to stop the screams.
