Blood and Other Cravings: Original Stories of Vampires and Vampirism by Today's Greatest Writers of Dark Fiction
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When we think of vampires, instantly the image arises: fangs sunk deep into the throat of the victim. But bloodsucking is merely one form of vampirism. For this brilliantly original anthology, Ellen Datlow has commissioned stories from many of the most powerfully dark voices in contemporary horror, who conjure tales of vampirism that will chill readers to the marrow.
In addition to the traditional fanged vampires, Datlow presents stories about the leeching of emotion, the draining of the soul, and other dark deeds of predation and exploitation, infestation, and evisceration…tales of life essence, literal or metaphorical, stolen.
Seventeen stories, by such award-winning authors as Elizabeth Bear, Richard Bowes, Kathe Koja, Margo Lanagan, Carol Emshwiller, and Lisa Tuttle will petrify readers. With dark tales by Laird Barron, Barry Malzberg and Bill Pronzini, Kaaron Warren, and other powerful voices, Blood and Other Cravings will redefine the terror of vampires and vampirism.
if I wasn’t already sitting in my own wet pants. It leaned forward and put its eyes real close to mine. Stared into me. I screamed my head off, no reason, just scared shitless. It came at me, touched my nose with its long finger, then it shook its head and drifted back. I thought, shit, it’s going to Stu, and I screamed louder. I wanted to warn you. But what do you do? I didn’t know what to tell you. I don’t know if I’ll last until they find me. Tell my mates they did me proud and if you can
bathroom. They say they’ll survive nuclear war. That’s what they reckon.” He shivered. “I hate them.” He felt like a fraud. Life exhausted him, all the people wanting what he had. And Cheryl and Sarah got nothing but harassment. “Lucky your dad’s alive, your husband,” people said to them. “Imagine what life would have been like without him, how sad, how hard.” Making them think about it. All those people wanting to talk to him, but they paid him, at least, and it kept them in beer and roast
the creature moves, stretches, makes a squeaky sound, and she sees it’s either the largest bat or the smallest little old man she’s ever seen. And with wings. She’s wondering if this is what Cora meant by genetic engineering. Then the creature stands up and Janice is shocked. He has such a large penis that Janice thinks back to the horses and bulls they used to have. It’s a Pan-type penis, more or less permanently erect and hooked up tight against his stomach, though Janice doesn’t know this
all clagged with leaf scraps, black in this light. Mulberries’ faces are the worst thing about them, little round old-children’s faces, neither man nor woman. And everything they are thinking shows clear as water, and this one is afraid; he doesn’t know what’s happening, what’s about to be done to him. Well, I’m no wiser. I turn back to Phillips. “Now get a good weight on him, both ends.” Gingerly I arrange myself. He may be neither man nor woman, but still the creature is naked, and clammy as
their heat crystal-edged against the dimness, fumbling in the dark. “Your turn,” the man said, and rolled over, while the woman slapped at her nightstand until her fingers brushed against her eyeglass frames. “You probably have a gun in the nightstand.” Mahasti hooked the hem of the octopus shirt and rucked it up over her gaunt, cold belly, revealing taut flesh and stretch marks. She slung the baby against her shoulder with her left hand. “I don’t think you want to do that.” The woman froze;