Thirst Novels & Stories

The decor and furnishings held a faint trace of familiarity, yet no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't recall where she had seen them before. Before she could make sense of anything, an overwhelming thirst clawed at her throat, followed by an unbearable heat spreading through her body. It felt as though she were burning from the inside out, as if she had been thrust into a scorching desert, every cell in her body desperately craving relief. "Water…" she murmured weakly, her voice barely above a whisper. Bare feet touching the cold floor, she moved with cautious, yet urgent steps, instinctively searching for water.

A rim of cool metal presses against my lips. Liquid sloshes at the barrier of cracked skin, cooling, life giving. Water. The moment I taste it I realize how thirsty I am. My throat aches with dryness. I drink greedily, gulp after gulp, until the cup is empty. I'm panting when I'm done, my throat burns. “Easy there. That’s it,” the voice murmurs, “slow breaths.” I inhale, shaky. My vision blurs, then begins to sharpen.

Twisted the top. Empty. Fuck. I tossed it across the seat, hard enough to dent the interior panel. The hunger clawed up my spine. My vision blurred red at the edges. My hands gripped the wheel tighter. The leather groaned under the pressure of my claws. It wasn’t just thirst. It was something worse. A pull. A violent, vicious craving that rolled through my chest like thunder. I tried to breathe. To focus. To think of Raymond. His voice. His heartbeat. The way his blood sang when I got close.

If I could somehow submit to him and get his phone from him, I might be able to reach out. I heard the roller shutter door in the background again and the smell of the food continued to fill the room. I collected the bag and opened it. Inside was a bottle of water and a bacon sandwich. No part of me wanted to eat in case there was something in it, but I was so hungry the smell was making my mouth water. I took a small bite and then another bigger one again and again until it was gone in seconds. I was so thirsty already and the salt in the bacon made me even more so. I twisted the cap on the bottle, but it had already been opened which made me even more suspic

she said. “At the point when it stalls out, here...” She folded her hand over the center of her neck. “My body jerks like it's attempting to save itself, but I continue pushing and that triggers something and my brain goes foggy. My throat swallows, and it goes further. That is the point at which the astonishing frenzy thing occurs when I can't relax. My body heaves to save itself, yet I push it more profound and my throat gets generally delicious, similar to as having a climax. Then there's no restriction, I can take every last bit of it, and it gets me so energized I nearly get off. You ought to attempt it.”

Heart thumped steady, thrill of sneaking amplifying the ache low in my belly. Kitchen door swung soundless; I flicked the under-cabinet light low, a soft amber glow pooling on granite counters. Fridge hummed open—chill blasting my bare legs, goosebumps prickling thighs up to my mound. Grabbed a glass, twisted the cap off a sparkling water, fizz hissing eager. Gulped half down, water cold-trickling my chin, dripping onto my chest. The silk darkened instant where it hit, clinging translucent to my nipple, turning it to a hard, rosy bullet.

I stood up, reached down with one hand, and lifted the heavy five-gallon jug off the ground by its plastic handle. I carried it across the field toward the gym entrance. When I stepped into the shadowy hallway leading to the ice rink, the cold air hit my face, smelling like rubber mats and cold ice. I set the jug under the steel nozzle of the water dispenser and pressed the lever down. The water filled the container slowly. My eyes are watching the water level on this jug, but my thoughts are away. What if Nathan walks down this hall right now?

I question, not understanding anything that's coming out of his mouth. 'Yes.' His eyes remain fixed on mine. Flickering from black to red, then black again. 'And sweet.' He says, almost lovingly as if he could taste my blood on his lips. I don't know what to say. He steps closer. 'Not human sweet.' His voice becomes fascinated. 'Something intoxicating.' My hands begin trembling. ‘Then, what am I?'. If I'm not human or something ordinary, does that make a monster? Or something worse?.

I’d like to see them try. My fingers found the wall again. Cold. Rough. Solid. —- I don’t know how long the gap was. Long enough that the hunger stopped being a stomach thing and turned into a hollow ringing behind my eyes. Long enough that when the hatch finally opened and another bottle came through, I got to it on my hands and knees before it had finished rolling and drank a third of it standing up. “Is there any food?” The hatch was already moving. “I’m not being difficult. I’m asking if there’s food.”

Tears were now out of the question, this was not the time for petty sorrow and self pity, I was starving and thirsty, but both men refused to provide me with anything other than death threats. "You're both devils." I don't think I have ever felt so much hatred for another human being until now. "So I've been told." Eye patch muttered, his attention remaining solely on the game in front of him. "You're both sick bastards and I hope you burn in hell." It was partly dehydration and hunger talking, but I nonetheless I meant what I said. "Is that so? How 'bout I take you with us?" Eye patch answered again, stalking towards me, I didn't break eye contact, I knew exa