Blood Game

My Friend Taught Me How To Play ‘The Blood Game’ And I Regret Ever Playing It

I tried several times to stammer out a response but the glare of everyone in the room made my words weak. I felt literally as if the air in my chest was being pulled out by the stare of those people, and each breath felt like a ragged gasp. Finally I was able to speak.

“This is supposed to be a game,” I said feebly.

“Ah, yes,” Bethany cooed in a voice that both comforted and disturbed me, “But what is the game about, Daniel? The game is about power, of course! It’s about being something more than your feeble human shell. Isn’t that what you wanted? Isn’t that why you agreed to play?”

I noticed that my head was nodding softly, against my own will it seemed. I spoke up again, and my voice sounded weaker than ever.

“I don’t want to drink blood,” I said.

“Oh?” Bethany said, brandishing a cruel smile, “You didn’t seem to mind the blood in your drink.”

The horrible taste of the wine made sense finally and I wretched at this new revelation, trying to throw up but unable to do so. Bethany’s face turned from that cruel smile to an even crueler scowl.

“Now, Daniel, I’ve been kind to you so far, but if you don’t start shaping up and acting like a Ripper, I’m going to have to be concerned you don’t really have what it takes to be a vampire,” she said. She made some small gesture to Sarah, who moved towards Adelaide and slashed her with the knife, opening up a horrible gash across her stomach. Adelaide let out a muffled shriek and thrashed helplessly, earning her a hard slap across the face from Sarah who called her a “stupid bitch.”

“Now come, Daniel,” Bethany said, “and drink deep of true power.”

I felt myself being dragged forward. I realized there was now a Ripper on either side of me, pulling me by my arms. My feet reluctantly followed and I seemed to be unable to stop them. Soon I found myself kneeling before Adelaide, blood oozing down the front of her pale body. The Rippers released my arms and I turned to look around the dark basement. All eyes were on me, everyone smiling, whispering small encouragements. They didn’t look like humans, but more like violent animals. Their eyes, which I was now almost sure had turned an inhuman shade of yellow, stared with a hungry anticipation. I decided that they did not even look like animals, but more like demons.

Something in my mind clicked right then. These people were demons. They were demons, and my character was a banisher of such things. Thinking quickly I stood up and turned around, summoning all the courage I had in me and shouting as forcefully as I could:


About the author
Tommy Poole-Frank is a Writer, Public Speaker, Performer, and Farmer currently located in Golden, Colorado. Follow Tommy on Twitter or read more articles from Tommy on Thought Catalog.

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