Reaper

soul sucker

Photo credit: Google – Found at Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie

“Come on, lover. Don’t be shy. We’ve got the room for an hour. Let’s have fun.”

The money had already changed hands and Angel was lying on the bed with her blouse open and her jeans tossed on the floor.

“Can’t say I’m shy, Baby.” He pulled off his shirt and got on top of her. He’d seen her on a street corner just off of Fremont Street and they settled on a price. She thought he was a dope because he didn’t haggle, but then it wasn’t just money that she wanted, and she certainly wasn’t doing it for the sex.

“Just a little bit closer. Come on. I don’t bite.” She almost laughed because she was lying through her teeth.

“Oh I bet you do, but really, I don’t mind.”

He bent down to kiss her, which most of the hookers didn’t allow, but in her case it didn’t matter. She didn’t care that he didn’t use a condom either. Her eyes flickered, momentarily considering his throat. Might as well let him have his jollies first. No harm in it she figured.

Then their lips met and she felt her throat tighten. Angel was paralyzed. The room began to swim and whirl. She tried to throw the john off of her but her arms wouldn’t move. What was he doing to her? What was that mist he was taking out of her?

As the last of her essence escaped Angel’s body and nourished him, she began to shrivel, like a time-motion film of aging and decay. In less than a minute, there was nothing left of the once beautiful and alluring young woman except a mummified corpse. She was his fifth victim that month, but they were getting more suspicious, so he’d have to move on to new hunting grounds soon.

Jack stood up wholly sated and put his shirt back on. Then he found her handbag, took his money back and then the rest of her cash. They had the room for another forty-five minutes but having finished with her, he was ready to leave.

The Las Vegas Review Journal would tag him the “Prostitute Killer,” but while his victims worked the trade because it gave them a readily available food supply, he only stole the souls of the damned. Vampires were so convenient and cocky. They never realized that something stranger could be hunting them.

The Reaper walked back out into the night thinking he might visit Los Angeles next.

I wrote this for the Photo Challenge #203 hosted at Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie. The idea is to use the image above as the inspiration for authoring a poem, short story, or some other creative work.

In the photo, it certainly looked like one of them was sucking the soul out of the other so I split the difference and made her a vampire and him some sort of soul reaper. Just for giggles, I decided that he fed only on evil souls so in a sense, he’s performing a public service.

I’ve suggested in my “Sean Becker” series that it would be advantageous for vampires to pose as prostitutes since the profession gives them an available body of victims who by definition want to keep their activities hidden. Also, vampires have to earn money somehow. All “Jack Reaper” (as opposed to Jack Reacher) has to do is pose as a “john” once he detects the scent of a vampire and it’s a done deal. The question is, if the vampire strikes first, what would be the result?

26 thoughts on “Reaper”

    • So now you would like to envision, not just one such reaper, but a number of them? Just how many inhuman critters can society stand before they can’t hide anymore? I mean, the occasional werewolf or vampire might hide on the margins of society for some time, if very careful. But if we start adding numerous reapers into the mix, I think the news-media will start to catch on, even if the people who disappear or are found murdered are themselves marginal characters. [:p]

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      • Good question. They must have some sort of life force or evil spirit that sustains and animates them, something that when it’s taken away, the vampire dies.

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      • Indeed. Since, in your stories, and in others more ancient, the vampire appears to have its memories and its sense of selfhood intact, one must infer that the original soul has become trapped in a “damaged” body, unable to escape but by the “second death” (or, perhaps, by some miraculous medical process yet to be invented that may reverse the damage),

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      • I think both the body and spirit are “damaged” given that even the best of the vampires I’ve created still lean toward being predatory and after all, Sean couldn’t even enter a church or pray with a Pastor.

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