The Krysta Cronicles: Fears– by Victor Moore
Disclaimer: These characters are all mine.
"This can't be happening. I really hate these things." Leonard grumbled as he readjusted his bags of groceries in his massive ebony arms.
"Why don't you put those things down, were going to be here for a while." The woman smiled at him from behind dark glasses.
"Yeah, I guess you're right." After doing so he cast some nervous glances about the elevator compartment. His pink tee shirt strained to conceal his muscular frame. It failed miserably.
"Don't fret so much, I won't bite." She sat down in a corner and watched him intently.
At least that is what it felt like to him. She was dressed all in black, and all of it looked expensive. Her long hair was raven and her flesh pale. The only haven of color was her lips; they were a deep red, like blood. "Must not get out much," he thought to himself.
"Or maybe I should be wary of you. After all you're such a big strong man and I'm just a defenseless little girl." She stretched her arms over her head as he quickly turned away from her.
His head was inches away from the ceiling. "You're not little."
"Compared to you I am. You're what, a little over two meters?"
"An inch over seven feet. And you're only about a foot shorter than me. I'm Leonard by the way."
"Krysta. How long do you think we'll be stuck in here?"
"Not long... I hope." Each of the four walls began to close in on him slowly once his focus was away from them.
Minutes ticked by as he huddled in the opposite corner. His eyes flew between this wall and that. The longer he tried to stare at them, the closer they got. Sweat began to shine on his brow. En mass, the walls collapsed in on him ignoring his screams. Springing to his feet, he lunged out and attacked them with all his strength. Dents in the metal began to form from his blows.
The last blow did not feel right and it took him a minute to realize that someone was calling him. Once he focused on the woman speaking to him, the walls no longer attacked and returned to their former positions.
"Leonard! Snap out of it!" She yelled.
Her hand had caught his fist. As he tried to pull away, she held him for a second more then let go. There was blood on her palm and he realized it was from his own bloody knuckles. "Oh god, I'm so sorry."
"No harm done. I can assume then that you're claustrophobic?"
He answered her as he ransacked his groceries for some paper towels. "Ever since I was little. I was buried alive once. Not a fun time for me."
"So if that's the case, why did you take an elevator for heaven's sake!?"
"Because I had too many bags to carry up twenty-three flights of stairs." He handed her a sheet and saw her lick the last of the blood from her palm.
"I see. So I'm going to have to keep you occupied until help arrives, eh?"
They both sat down in their corners and he noticed her watching him clean his hands. "So where are you from Krysta?"
"Oh, originally from France, what feels like ages ago. Now I just wander around, like a nomad. Never found a place to truly call home. And you?"
"New York has always been home. Never traveled away from it."
His eyes slid off her and looked at the walls again.
"Leonard. Talk to me. Look at me." Taking off her glasses, she continued, "look into my eyes."
He did so. Slowly he told her about his life, his occupation as a boxer and how it was helping put his little sister through college. His pride showed when he talked about her and how he dropped out of high school early in order to raise her when their parents died. The more he spoke, the calmer he felt. He felt himself being drawn into those wondrous reddish-brown eyes. Hours rolled by like minutes. It was as time had lost all meaning to him.
"Do you have anything to snack on, I'm famished." Krysta stated breaking the trance he had found himself in. "I haven't had a decent meal in weeks!" She laughed.
"Let see. Noodles, pepper, onions, mushrooms, some milk --- probably spoiled by now."
"Sounded like a wonderful dinner, hopefully there's no garlic in there."
"Nope. My sister's allergic to the stuff."
"Same here. By the way, why the pink shirt? Do you swing the other way?"
"Nah, nothing like that. All I can remember of the woman that saved my life, when that building collapsed, was that she was wearing a pink dress. She died saving me, so I wear that color in honor of her.
"Ah, here we go." He handed her a package of Twinkies, which she accepted graciously.
She put her lips to the junk food and began to suck the filling out of it. When he commented on it, she just smiled and asked him about his Oreo eating habits and whether he twisted and licked or ate it whole.
"Point." As he started at her, a tiny part of him told him she was dangerous somehow, but he ignored it.
"God I'm bored." She stated playing absently with the husk of the Twinkie. "And famished."
"I got some more if you want."
"No, no. I can hold it off for the feast I'm going to have later, if I can get to the bank." Pointing to his hands she stated, "you're bleeding again."
Before he could do anything thing, she was there. She grabbed his hand and kissed it. After a couple of kisses he felt her tongue licking the life fluid from his knuckles. So shocked, he missed the need in her eyes when she looked up at him.
"I need you Leonard. You taste so good that I can't wait any longer, I'm sorry."
He tried to stop her as she slowly slid her way up him. "This isn't right. Not here. Not now."
"I helped you conquer your fear, but I succumbed to mine in the process. I want you. Now."
His mind and body froze up as he looked into her eyes. She kissed him on the neck. It felt so good. He cried out in ecstasy as she bit into it. The rest was a blur as the world faded into a blissful darkness.
The doors opened up with a squeal and a faint mist escaped the confines. The two repairmen did not notice it. Instead what caught their eyes was the body of a large black man in a pink shirt. All the blood had been drained from him. Some of it was splattered across the ceiling, the walls, and a puddle of it covered the floor.
The two men ran as they felt their stomachs try and empty themselves. The first one made it to a trash can down the hall. The second got only a few feet before the retching overtook him.
In the lobby of the building, Krysta looked into the mirror and sighed. "Only an hour more, and I would've been out of there. Why couldn't I have waited? Am I so weak in the controlling of my appetite?"
The mirror was devoid of answers, just as there was no reflection of her. Yet tears could be seen streaming down an invisible face. A heavy rain melded with her tears as she walked the dark noisy streets. Sirens from an ambulance and police cars drowned out her apologies. The darkness hid her shame.