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Fisck and the Unguarded Skins

By 11:48:00 , , , , , , , , ,

Fisck hummed through the evening air towards her favourite haunt; the cave of unguarded skins. She darted straight towards the small tear in the gauze, and slipped inside. Heat radiated from three bodies in the room. The time had not yet come for they were still moving around. So she rested behind the stiff curtain of blue that hung down from the roof, waiting good-naturedly.

Fisck listened as another of the Sanguinarius entered the room. She was not as patient as Fisck though. She buzzed through the air straight towards one of the heat sources who were not yet still. The buzzing stopped and began then stopped, Fisck continued to wait. A sharp slap echoed through the room. The Foolhardy One tumbled to the floor with the life crushed out of her.

As one of the elder Sanguinarius, Fisck knew how to bide her time. She knew it paid in the end, with blood. Lights winked out. Soon the only sounds in the room were slow breathing. The time had come. Fisck’s wings hummed as she flew through the cool night air towards the warmest heat source. She alighted on the wall and surveyed her prey. One of the Unguarded Skins lay spread out before her, arms, a leg, a head and neck, inviting her touch. 

Fisck dived down. The Unguarded Skin turned over, and Fisck zipped back up into the air. A soft murmur, then stillness came over the room. She hummed downwards and settled onto a wrist of the Unguarded Skin. There is skill even in where to take the blood from, in some places it is sweet and in others not so, in some places blood springs easily and in others it takes too long. Fisck had hunted for many weeks and by now was numbered with the experts.

Fisck plunged her sharp proboscis deep into the Unguarded Skin’s flesh and sucked. Blood drained into her gut. The surface under her feet twitched. The Unguarded Skin shuffled and slapped at her wrist, far too late, for Fisck now sat on the frame of a picture on the wall.

A few minutes later Fisck hummed down again and landed on the leg that stuck out from the covering, again drawing blood from her victim. A growl followed closely by a slap broke the stillness, but only after the quiet hum of mosquito wings. The Unguarded Skin pulled all her limbs under the sheet and listened to the zzzzzzzzz of Fisck wings as she circled. Fisck landed on the warm cheek of her almost sleeping quarry. The blood had a warm sweetness that satisfied Fisck greatly. 

For a second Fisck struggled to get away from the thrashing of sheets, and arms. She almost got stuck under a fold of cloth. Only one more bite and she would be full. But now the Unguarded Skin had covered herself in folds of the sheet. Fisck returned to the wall, waiting. 

Under the sheet the Unguarded Skin could not breathe properly and the cool night air could not get to her. She uncovered her head and stuck out one hand and foot. From her post Fisck noticed the movement. She buzzed downwards. While the Unguarded Skin thrashed and stilled and rolled over and lay still again Fisck took her chance and got the last sip from a finger and one for luck from the Unguarded Skin’s arm.

Sated, Fisck flew away into the night. She didn’t stay to hear the scratching noise, followed by rustlings and muttering that continued long into the light.

So dear Fisck, you have my permission to show this to the Sanguinarius. Go and rejoice at how famous you are, get to full of blood and explode. Obliterating all of your kind in the process. Sincerely, all of the Unguarded Skins.

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  1. Oh my goodness, Clare. Lol. Funny as it may be, it is very true. I loved how well it flowed though. Good job!


    1. Well yes... exactly true..... I was quite inspired to write it after the other night. I am sure there is the occasional, particularly smart, mosquito that is almost impossible to destroy.

  2. Very interesting story. I enjoyed reading it!

    Should "quite hum" be "quiet hum"?

  3. Eeee! Yeah... Mean little monster! :-0
    Visiting from the GTW Link-up :)