Duelling For Blood
A Dreamland Epic...
“They were as noble and as brutal as the knights of old. Iron horses glistening as they galloped across the sandy plains, their masters at eternal war with one another.
“She was a savage in her own way, a bloodlust unquenched as she roamed, hunting for the perfect challenger. Hunting for the perfect blood. She had yet to be beaten in duel, and every soul she captured upon victory coursed through her veins. No lawman could take her, and no mortal could tame her.
“He was a warrior of old, his weary but spirited steed well in hand as they traversed the unruly landscape. He raced for the adventure’s sake, he and his scrappy hot rod making many a friend out of enemies on the road.
“It was at a crossroads where they met. Her beast, red as her fur, growled at the warrior’s rod. The rod growled back, and in time the two began rumbling and revving something fierce. Their riders looked to each other intently, steeled nerves and hands gripping the wheel tight. She sunk her claws deep into her beast’s throttle, his boots dug into the clutch and brake, lying in wait for their rockets to blastoff.
“Off the mark they went…ZOOOOOOMING!
“Her long and slender machine came out ahead, but the young warrior’s rod was unwavering in her determination. The metallic mare bucketed and rocked as she soldiered on ahead of the savage’s ride. With a devilish fire in her eyes, she started to swerve the beast towards the warrior, nipping at the hot rod’s wheels, bumping and rocking her to no end. The buffeting drove the warrior closer to the edge of the mountainside, a cavernous ravine waiting to swallow him and his gallant machine up whole.
“Just as it seemed she’d be done for, the hot rod lurched back towards the savage, shaking the wretches off her back as she screamed towards the makeshift finish line. Tires screeched as the rod came to a stop, the slender car coming up alongside. The savage knew she had been beaten.
“Temptation beckoned her to revolt against the terms she warred by, but to her surprise, the warrior looked upon her with a gentle mercy, and offered a simple bargain.
“‘Deliver unto me an ounce of blood for each soul you’ve taken in your travels. It is many, but you’ll be allowed to live on the meager remains, as the Gods will.’”
“‘Tis pity you beat me,’ she said dryly, ‘I do believe you’re the blood I’ve sought these many years.’”
“In the end, the bargain was made. The savage now wanders, a scant five drops flowing through her, her soulmate steed thundering in warning to all who dare race for blood.”
Rodney gently shut the door as his young brown pup drifted away into a deep sleep. The stocky gray father stepped out into the maple-lined living room, taking a seat by his red wife on the old worn-out sofa.
Bette shot him a warm yet perplexed look.
“How was that,” he asked with his gentle Texan drawl.
“Rod, Babe,” she started softly, “‘Sa’bit heavy for a bedtime story, ain’t it? I thought you were gonna tell him ‘bout some of your races.”
“I did,” he smiled, “Just twisted ‘em a bit. Was an idea Fay and I kicked around. And hey, put him to sleep.”
Bette chuckled as she cozied up.
“Harry really is our kid then, ain’t he?”
Rod nuzzled her in kind.
“Sure is Sugar…sure is.”