Smallville Thirst Novels & Stories

she said. Another slammed the tap off. “My mom is going to come get me,” she said, close to tears. “I’m not staying here if I can’t even drink water.” My throat tightened. It suddenly felt much drier than it had when I woke up. I swallowed, but it did nothing. “The fourth day,” the wraiths whispered. “The day of thirst.” We made our way down to the ground floor and into the yard. The air outside was thicker, the smell not as concentrated as inside, but still there. Students moved around more slowly than usual, eyes shadowed, skin sallow from lack of sleep and pain.

"I don’t get fevers. I’m just thirsty." He held a warm cup of honey water to my lips, and I downed it in one go. After finishing the first cup, I licked my dry lips, still unsatisfied. "I want more." Without a word, Miles poured me another glass. After three full cups, the thirst finally eased. My head felt a little clearer too—clear enough to realize he was staring at me with a half-smile, half-frown. There was a flicker in his eyes—a mix of amusement and a quiet, simmering frustration I couldn’t quite read.

My throat felt dry, and after everything Sebastian had just revealed, I needed something to ground me. I opened the fridge, grabbed a chilled bottle of water, and unscrewed the cap, taking a long sip. The cold liquid felt like a balm against the chaos swirling in my mind. I turned to Sebastian, holding the bottle up. “You thirsty?” He nodded, leaning against the counter. “Yeah, I could use some.”

He felt steady now, not all over the place like before. “Wine? Really?” he asked, his voice full of dry humor. “Why not?” I said quietly, pouring a good amount into the metal cup I had. The smell was strong as I swirled the drink slowly. “If we can’t celebrate winning, we can at least drink to staying alive.” “To staying alive,” Thorin replied, his voice lighter now, almost playful. I raised the cup, even though my arm ached from the stitches. “Cheers to still breathing,” I said, my voice carrying a hint of sarcasm.

"You must be thirsty." "I'd rather die of thirst than take anything from you," she hisses, but I can see the lie in her eyes. She needs water. The silver is not causing injuries on her, but it is smoking - it is hurting her, causing her body to dehydrate without physical effect. She is desperate for water, no matter who brings it.

This morning, I'm still so worried. I didn't get much sleep! I kept having horrible nightmares. In some, I was being chased by a family of zombies through the manor house, in others, I was the Bathory's meal. This food thing is really getting to me. All the little details I've put together is making me reflect on the nature of my hosts. And on the darkness surrounding them. I see Sarah coming to meet me. She looks more rested than I am. It's not very surprising considering...

The silence enveloped me like a heavy blanket, broken only by the soft shuffle of my own footsteps echoing through the empty house. I retrieved a chilled water bottle from the fridge and poured its icy contents into a glass. Cold water has always been my preference, there's something about its crispness that quenches my thirst like nothing else. As the first sip trickled down my throat, followed by another, I couldn't resist the urge to gulp down the entire glass in one go. The icy cascade provided instant relief to the discomfort lingering in my parched throat.

“… I’m so thirsty right now. Is that a bottle of whiskey? Hand it over.” I heard a slap and an angry voice replying to the thirsty man. “Are you insane? Do you ever focus on your job? This isn’t for you. It’s for our captive.” The first guy groaned. “That’s not fair. Why does the captive get to drink something? I am dying of thirst over here.” “I would happily give this to you and allow you to disembowel yourself, you idiot. It turns out that she is pregnant. The boss wants her to drink this so that it can kill the baby, and she’ll be up to full strength. She needs to be ready.”

The more I tried to shake it off, the stronger its grip on me became. “Yes, I believe that is why they call them that.” He chuckled as he stood. I watched him walk over to the opposite side of the room and open the mini fridge, revealing an array of chilled beverages. He pulled out a bottle of water and brought it over to me, offering it with a smile. I took the water gratefully and took a long drink from it. It felt like I had an undeniable thirst due to the intense running and adrenaline coursing through my veins in the dream. It was as if my body had been deprived of water for days, and the cool, refreshing liquid was a welcome relief. I could feel my heartbeat slowing down as the water s

She stood up quickly and walked over to the small kitchen counter, her throat feeling like absolute sandpaper. She grabbed a large glass pitcher of water from the small refrigerator and poured it down her throat, practically drinking the entire contents in a desperate bid to quench her burning thirst. She had arrived at her apartment late in the afternoon, utterly exhausted from her brutal training session with Nimrod, and fatigue had claimed her the moment her head hit the pillow.