Reddit Writing Prompt #25: The Addicting Bite

Vampire saliva gives off an addicting drug inducing effect to the victim being bitten. – stoppppppppppppp

I scream as the stake plunges into my master’s heart, and I can almost feel the pain as if it was me lying, sleeping, in the coffin. “No!” I wail at the murderer, standing over the corpse of the man who gave my life purpose. “No, no, no, no!” I struggle against the murderer’s partner, who presses me to the ground. Master had fed upon me, his most loyal follower, just the night before, and I still felt the weakness, though the happy buzzing sensation caused by master’s bite was overwhelmed by the feelings of grief and rage.

“Bloodsucker’s dead,” says the murderer. He pulls a thick knife from his belt. “Just gonna make sure. This’ll only take a minute.” He is a hardened man, eyes dark, and he goes about his task in silence. I cannot see what he is doing to my master’s body, but I swear I can feel the cold steel in my throat. “Done,” the murderer says after a few minutes of sawing. He rises, holding my master’s head by the hair. “What should we do with the thrall?”

“He’s innocent,” the man who holds me to the ground says. “He’s just a junkie, hooked on vampire spit. It’ll be out of his system in a few months, probably.”

“Kill you! I’ll kill you!” I swear. “Find you and kill you!”

“Practically an animal,” says the man holding my master’s head. Master’s face is frozen in a mask of terror, his mouth wide and displaying his sharp fangs. I hate these men. I hate them.


Before the master found me, I was nothing. A tiny ant, crawling through a concrete anthill, unnoticed and unimportant. Alcohol, drugs, they were my only salvation from the numbness. I surrendered myself to them, only truly feeling alive when they coursed through my blood. I thought it was the greatest feeling in the world. Then, I met him.

It was a dark night, and I stumbled through a blackened back street, the world bleary in my vision and ground shaking beneath my feet. I couldn’t remember what I had taken, but I felt alive. Alive.

He came to me, melting out of the shadows, light glittering on his bared teeth. I thought he was a hallucination, before his fangs sank into my throat, and I understood that everything before that moment had been the illusion, and he was the reality. Even as I felt him draining me, he set me free, my mind soaring through the universe, dancing with the stars and racing with the comets.

It was over too soon, and he dropped me. Weak, I grabbed his leg before he could leave me. I saw surprise on his pale face, while my blood dripped down from the corner of his mouth. “Please,” I beg him, “more.


The murderers take me away from the tomb of my master. They call themselves vampire hunters, but I see them for what they really are. Burglars, murderers, assassins. They robbed me of the one thing that made my life bearable.

I was thrown into their car, struggling feebly. They brought me to a place, a bright place, with clean, white sheets and friendly, smiling women and screaming, pleading neighbors. Days blended into weeks, into months, while my body cried out for my master’s sweet bite. I begged the friendly women to let me free, but they only smiled cruelly at me. I am not ready yet, they say. When will I be ready, I ask. When you are healthy, they say.


It takes me months, years, but at last I am well. My body clean, my mind consumed with revenge. As soon as I am discharged, I begin my plans. Strapped to a bed for so long, I have had a long time to plot my revenge.

I emulate my master, lurking on the outskirts of civilization. The vagrants, the drunkards, the lost, they all become my prey. I drug them in the dark alleyways, biting them with sharp, fake fangs and draining them of blood. It is not as neat as my master’s feeding, but it will do to draw them to me.

The corpses pile up, and finally they arrive, snooping around to find me. I have set myself up in the basement of an abandoned building, my bed like my master’s was, a coffin filled with soil. I leave the clues, and wait, every night, in the coffin, hoping that they will find me.

I hear footsteps up above. I force the grin off my face as I rest in the coffin, as silent as a corpse. They expect a vampire. They will find me.

The footsteps tromp down the stairs, and the door creaks as it opens. Is it them? Oh, how I hope it is them. A flashlight blares against my eyelids, and I calm myself, waiting for the right moment. The footsteps come closer. “Any thralls?” one of them hisses, in a voice I recognize. The man who killed my master.

“Clear,” the other says. “Let’s stake it and get out of here.”

“You want to do the honors?”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

The footsteps approach, and I curse the fates. How perfect it would have been to slay the man who murdered my master in this way. He will die next, after this man who stopped me from saving my master. I hear his breath, I can imagine the look on his face. The wooden tip of the stake digs into my chest. Silence.

“Wait a minute, I’ve seen this guy be-”

My eyes open, and I lunge. My jaws clamp around his throat, and my fangs, sharpened to resemble my master’s, tear into his skin. I rip like a wild animal, and his screams die as his throat is torn free.

Shit!” the other murderer says. I can see him in the light of his own flashlight, as he reaches for his gun. Before he can bring it to bear upon me, I grab the dying murderer’s sidearm from his holster. The weapon barks twice, burying slugs in the man’s knees, and he falls to the ground. His weapon slips free of his hand, and I launch myself out of the coffin, kicking it away before he can grab it.

I grab the man’s knife, the same knife he desecrated my master’s corpse with, and press the sharp edge to his throat. I see the fear in his eyes, the knowledge that he is at my mercy, and his horrifying realization that I have no mercy for his kind.

“This’ll only take a minute,” I tell him, and I begin to work.

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