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okay -- i decided to post it so i can get brutal feedbacks, so feel free to criticise, suggest, rip it apart, or praise.  this is just the first draft, i know there needs to be a bit more to "show" the un-named character's mindset and inner conflicts. i whipped this up in a 10 minute class free-write that we had to read aloud, and decided i want to make it flash fiction, or less than 1000 words. which means short and intense and hitting ALL of it, somehow. so here it is:
Something isn't sitting right in his stomach when he leaves the building. It's a mixture of fear and adrenaline, yes, but it's also the gutteral-twist that overrides our insides when we've gone against the grain. This, he realizes, is something else.
He uses the north-lot driveway to leave the premesis, just like he planned. Two minutes earlier it was the north hall fire escape; seven minutes before that, it was all second guessing, and angels and devils on his shoulders. The latter won out, just like they always do, despite the gossamer allure and pull of the former, and the deed was done.
It's five to midnight, and he makes it to the 2nd St. alley with time to spare. He runs a last check: did he grab enough? Yes. Was he seen? No. Are they properly packaged? Yes. Are --
"--they the right blood type?" The vampire he both loves and fears steps up behind him, having slid out from the shadows tossed by concrete and dumpsters.
"Yes," he lies, handing over the box of thermo-packed pouches. The darkness of the hour does not steal the way he averts his eyes upon that one syllable, but the vampire is too desperate tonight to care.
He hopes that the virus buys him enough time to escape, to run to the next town with a hope just as immortal as the vampire he can't ever seem to escape from -- a hope that maybe this time, he'll be left alone.
my void does not want.
-- 2.13.61.
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