The Devil’s Music
TW: Warfare, Bodily Harm, and Blood WC: 607
The noise around would have been deafening to any other. The screams of agony, the wailing of pain and the rattling of the dying would certainly drive a man mad. They all threw themselves at Jonathan, trying their best. But he was otherwise disposed. He was trying to stay alive amidst the fires of war.
He had managed to crawl rather safely behind a rock formation. He had seen experienced leaders vanish in an instant, only a mortar hole left in their place. He had seen friends die after a cannon ball took their head. He was not inclined to join them, just yet.
The pain he experienced told him otherwise and he dared to look down. His stomach would have certainly turned at the sight before, were he not holding his own guts in his arms. Arm. He had to correct himself. A cannon shot had separated his right arm from his body before Jon had even noticed that a shot had gone off.
Now that he was stationary the pain really started to come through. He saw red, then black, and even white before his vision returned to normal.
“Why did I have to join this war, Lord?” He asked himself for the thousandth time. For the last time.
“No need to look so glum, dear. Your medic is here.”
The voice was surprisingly clear among the symphony of war. If he hadn’t been hurt, Jonathan would certainly have jumped. Before him stood a young woman, a bit too close for comfort. Her pitch-black hair and cracked alabaster skin, made her look like a corpse. The piercing blue eyes seemed at least inviting. But that was completely offset by her bloodstained arms didn’t really sell the image of the saving grace medic that Jon had come to known.
The thing before him wasn’t a medic. It was a devil. Come to torture him in his last moments.
The woman kneeled. “Let’s see what we have here. A ripped abdomen? And a lost arm? You’ll be up and running in no time.”
Her smile was razor sharp. Clearly hoping to reassure him. But it only reminded him of the machete that made his way into his stomach.
“What… are you...?” His voice was starting to fail him.
“Like I said, I’m a medic. Name’s Galina.” She rummaged through a bag. “Let me get my needle and thread, so I can stich that right up. It’s rather foul looking, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yes…”
“Now this will sting a bit, and I’m all out of opium. So be a brave, little soldier for me. I’m going to count to three, alright?”
Exhausted as he was, Jonathan just nodded.
“One...” He braced himself. “Two.” And Galina went in. The pain spiked like nothing Jon had felt before. “Sorry love”, she said apologetically, “you lot always tense up at three. Which doesn’t really help us medics.”
He closed his eyes, as she tried to stich the hole together.
“If it helps just look into my eyes, darling. I find that it helps my patients relax.”
Carefully he opened his eyes and turned to look at her face. The once blue eyes had turned a deep, dark red.
Jonathan tried to scream, but no sound could escape his lips. They had been sown shut.
“I abhor the screams of mankind. Why do you believe that it will safe you? It’s just noise. And I prefer the sweet sounds of war. The sounds of muskets firing, the sound of a mortar shell hitting the ground.
It’s music to my ears.”
And with that the vampire went to feast on her latest victim. Written for flashfictionfridayofficial













