"I thirst for you. . ."
Tamati Ellison said goodnight to Cory Jane and Jimmy Gopperth, tucking a bottle of Speights under his arm as he left the pub.
Outside, Tamati headed down the dimly lit street, nodding hello to a few fans.
Super 14 was upon them all, and Tamati, like his fellow teammates, was looking forward to the start of the season.
Specifically, he had various goals and objectives he wanted to accomplish. Namely, he wanted to impress the new Hurricanes coach, start every game and then, maybe the All Black selectors would like what they saw and he could finally rep tha Black jersey.
Tamati took a deep breath.
It was every little New Zealand's boy dream to play for the All Blacks and Tamati was no exception. But it wouldn't happen if -
A hand clamped around Tamati's arm, icy, slimy.
"Shit," he exclaimed, the beer bottle dropping from his fingers, crashing to the ground.
Tamati turned, wondering if it was Cory or Jimmy taking a piss, or -
Face to face with the person who'd grabbed him, Tamati's eyes widened in horror.
He opened his mouth to -
"Don't say a word, Tamati. . ." The voice was soothing, sibilant, snaking through his head, coiling in his brain.
The scream in his gut waiting to burst free was stiffled as he stared into eyes boring into him.
Dark eyes, like oil.
Eyes he recognized. . .
"Don't say my name. . ."
At once, the name of the person escaped him. He knew the face, saw it everyday, the face of one of his teammates, a fellow Wellington Hurricane.
But, the name died on his lips.
"Come closer, Tamati. . ."
Heart slamming, Tamati felt his body responding, moving against his will, against every ounce of his being that told him to fight, to resist.
"Come closer," the voice demanded, soothing, comforting.
NO! Tamati's mind screamed even as his body followed the commands, a powerful energy flowing through him, spilling into him.
He tried to run.
The hand that had grabbed his arm seized him around the throat, lifting him almost six feet into the air.
"Don't resist. . .calm down. . ."
Inexplicably, Tamati felt his body go slack. He wanted to fight, to scream but he couldn't move, couldn't speak.
He felt his body being lowered until his feet touched the ground again.
"Don't resist. . .don't make me hurt you. . ."
Lazily, Tamati stared into the dark eyes, his head spinning.
The face he knew so well, that he saw everyday, came closer, closer. . .the lips parted, revealing fangs, long and sharp, extending from bright, pink gums.
"Don't be afraid. . ."
Paralyzed, Tamati stared, fear stabbing into him, so acute he could feel it.
No. . .no this can't be happening! This isn't real! It isn't real!
But as the fangs he thought he had imagined pierced his skin, sinking into the flesh on his neck, puncturing the jugular vein, he knew this nightmare was a sick, twisted reality.
copyright 2007. . .hmmm. . .guess galaxyMafia isn't so bored with this ish after all. But, you might be a different story. Let me know what ya think, if you dare and stay tuned for galaxyMafia's new hot piece of rugby trash fiction, "Lords of the Pitch"! It promised to be completely foolish!