He lay in a pool of his own blood, the air around him becoming sour with its pungent odour. Every time he tried to move, his body went stiff. Eventually he found the strength to lift himself up, though he had to lean against the wall in order to stay stable.                              

He looked at his arms: a dozen different shades of colour decorated his skin, mingling together like the hues of a shimmering rainbow. As he regained his composure, the colour of his skin began to change. The mixed colour pattern dissipated, replaced by a greyish-white colour which matched the wall. This was the extraordinary power of a Doplegam, which allowed him to blend into any environment.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  

His jaws were hurting, so he slowly opened his vertical mouth. As he did so, his length-long tongue slithered out, and his sharp teeth extended out from the sides. The Doplegam caressed his ears, which were pointed and lined with spikes all around the edges. He felt a stinging pain in his left side. He stroked it with a gentle touch and nearly squealed. When he looked at his fingers, they were stained with purple blood.                                                                   

When does the pain stop?

This was not the first time he had been reduced to a broken shell…                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

The first and last thing he remembered was a punch to the face, and a sharp kick in his stomach. He did not see the perpetrator, for he was too busy shielding himself. By the time he had began to pull himself together, the unknown individual was gone.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

Tonight was the night to drink at Icy Quasar. He and his friends often visited this establishment at the weekend in order to relax after a long week of work, by drinking three or four rounds of cold frothy Gargle milk.                                                                                                                      

He started for home. The sooner I get there, the sooner I'll be safe, he thought to himself.                                                                                                                       

As he turned a corner, he heard a crying noise. The sound was soft, but audible.

Who is that? Have they been hurt as well?                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       

Against his better judgement to protect himself, he turned and headed for the source. It got louder and louder until he turned a corner, and found a woman sitting against the wall. She was a human, maybe in her early twenties, with mist white hair and mud brown skin.                                                                                                                                              

When the woman lifted her head, and saw the Doplegam, she let out a loud yelp.                                                                                                                          

"Sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you," he said. "I'll just go…"                                                                                                                    

"No, don't," she said, grabbing his hand. Her cheeks were stained with tears. "You just startled me, is all."                                                                                                         

"It's just… A woman like you shouldn't be out here all by herself."                                                                                                                                                                                                                              

"Wasn't entirely my choice, to be honest." Her eyes diverted from his gaze.                                                                                                        

"Oh? Are you on holiday or something?"                                                                                                                                    

"No.  I'm a new resident, actually. I've got an apartment on the station's lower levels."                                                                                                                                                                              

"Really?"

"Yes," she said. "I wanted to start a new life, and Alpraz station seemed like the best place to do that. Are you a local, by any chance?"                                                                                                                                                                                                       

"More or less. I've lived here for about eleven years. I kind of know the station inside and out. At the very least, I know some places that serve the most refreshing Gargle Milk you can ever ask for. And the restaurants aren't too shabby either. The local Taurcian eatery cooks up a lovely vilgrov. I've got to warn you, through; it's delicious, but it can also burn your tongue."                                                                                                                                                       

This made the woman giggle. As she stood up, her clothes glowed red with a hint of yellow in-between, interwoven with fine silk.

"In that case, I don't suppose you could perhaps give me a small tour? I've only been here for two weeks, so I haven't really gotten to know the station all that well yet."                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       

This is unforeseen. I've just met her, and yet she's so quick to trust me. Do I accept or refuse?

"Well, I…"                                                                                             

"Xianda!" A broad voice called.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 

The Doplegam turned, and saw a tall man in silver clothing came running down the corridor. The man's very presence made the woman tremble with fear.                                                                                                                                                                                                                         

"Thank the stars, I've found you. I've been looking for you everywhere. Who is this?"                                                                                                 

The Doplegam recoiled, and became a pale shade of pink that reflected his embarrassment.                                                                                                          

"I… Well, I thought she was lost, and so I came to…"                                                                                                                                                                                     

"Ah, I see," the man said, briskly. "Well, I can assure you, she isn't lost. Except in the brain department. She's so out of touch these days, she'd jump at the sight of her own shadow."                                                                                                                                                                                               

"Samson, I told you, I'm not going back with you."                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       

Samson let out a small, forced chuckle, and grabbed her shoulder.                                                                                                                         

"See what I mean? Mad as a man on Smart Juice, this one. Come on, darling."                                                                                                                                                                                   

"No!" She slipped out of his grip. "Don't you understand? All you do is undermine me, and I'm sick of it. I'm only telling you once more: go away and never come back."                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   

The weak smile on Samson's face was beginning to fade.                                                                                                  

"Xianda, this is ridiculous. I've come halfway across the system to find you. That's how much I love you. And I only act as I do to make sure you don't act out of line. I simply want us to avoid any further embarrassments…" He stretched out his hand, but she slapped it away.                                                                                                                                                  

"Hey, there," the Doplegam said. "I think you'd better stop. She said she doesn't want to be with you."                                                                                                                                                             

"No, it's alright. It's nothing. She's just being stupid."                                                                                                                                                                                  

"No I'm not. The only stupid thing I ever did was stay with you, despite all the humiliation you put me through. Because I believed you would change into a better man someday. But now I see... You'll never change. You're nothing but a pig."                                                                                                       

Samson shook his head, growling under his breath.                                                                                                              

"Xianda… You're embarrassing me again. And you know what happens when you embarrass me." His hand feigned a gentle touch, but she recoiled in fear as he started to stroke her cheek.                                                                                                                                                                   

The Doplegam watched on in anger as Samson's hand travelled down Xianda's neck. A crooked smile rested on the man's face as Xianda started to quiver. Upon seeing that twisted smile, the Doplegam's skin began to change into the colour of freshly drawn blood.                                                                                                                                   

"Leave her be," he said, growling.                                                                                                                                                 

"Mind your business, please," Samson said. "This our own private matter. It'll be over soon." He continued to stroke her, crawling down her chest, until he stopped and laid his hand on her belly. Xianda tried to lift her arm up in retaliation, but it seemed as though all strength within her was being drained by Samson's touch.                                                                                                                                             

"Didn't you hear her? She doesn't want to be with you."                                                                                                                                                                             

Samson's turned his gaze towards the Doplegam, staring at him with fierce eyes.                                                                                                                          

"I just told you to mind your own business. I thought you Doplegam's are supposed to have excellent hearing."                                           

"I heard you just fine," the Doplegam said. "And I'm telling you to leave her alone."

"Are you looking for a fight, Doplegam? What…" Samson looked at Xianda, then back towards the Doplegam. "Were you chatting her up before I came by? Xianda… Just when I thought you couldn't embarrass me further."

He grabbed Xianda's throat, and held her neck with such a force that she began to choke. She tried to grab at Samson's face, but his strength was greater.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

Soon, her face began to turn purple.                                                                                                                                                   

No. Leave her alone. Get your hands off her!                                                                                              

Before he could stop himself, the Doplegam had pounced on Samson. Before long, both of them were on the floor. Samson tried to free himself, but the Dopelgam held him down. As he stared into Samson's eyes, the Dopelgam began to dig his claws into the man's arms, making him bleed. Suddenly, the tough exterior was replaced with that of a scared child.                                                                                         

Stay down, you pig. You deserve everything coming  to you.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              

He began to run his claws down Samson's left arm, lacerating long streaks of flesh, from the elbow to the wrist. The Doplegam only stopped when Samson started to scream until he was bellowing with pain. He looked into the man's petrified eyes, then at his own blood stained claws.                                                                                                                                                                     

What have I done?                                                                                                                                                                                                                       

Samson wriggled out of the Doplegam's grip, and stared at him for a long time. The look on his face was that of a monster's victim. The Doplegam watched as Samson stood up, and ran around the corner, all the while holding onto his bloodied arm.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

When he looked back at Xianda, she had the same look of fear on her.                                                                                                                                               

"Hey. Are you okay?"                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                

I should be asking her that. "Yes. I… It's… it's getting late. I should go home."                                                                                                                                                                                                                              

"Wait," she shouted as he was halfway around the corner, "I don't even know your name. I should know the name of my saviour."                                                                                                                                                                              

"Trilgas."

#

"The body has been identified as Samson Gurnsby, a resident of  Zeltras, a prominent United Terram Space Expanse colony. His body was found at around seven a.m. by one of the lower deck residents, Alfred Burns, as he was out for a morning walk. The victim's body was found with claw marks all over, as well as a singular puncture wound on the neck. After closer examination, local pathologists have identified these wounds as being the markings of a Doplegam attack."                                                                                                                                                             

Dopelgam. That narrowed down the suspect list.                                                                                                                                                              

"Already, the victim's family have spoken out about this tragic event, with his mother urging authorities to find and apprehend the murderer. As Alpraz station is home to twelve Dopelgams, the local authorities have given their assurances that the murderer should be found soon enough."                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              

The canteen became alive with whispered chatter. There was always a juicy story to be told when the news came on. Murder stories in particular were the most popular sources of gossip, after pirate raids and political debates.                                                                                                                                                                                                                               

Trilgas knew that he was not the murderer, but he did have Samson's blood on his claws. Even without evidence, many would point the finger of judgement towards him.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  

"Hey. Your head full of air, or what?"                                                                                                                                                                

His friend Viltras, a fellow Doplegam, sat down next to him. Trilgas could always count on him to start the day with a cheerful attitude. Both of them worked in the station's mining operations, extracting precious metals from the nearby Qumrai asteroid belt.                                                                                                                                                                                                   

"Sorry," Trilgas said as Viltras handed him a tray full of Doplegam cuisine. "Didn't get enough sleep last night. Bad dream." Nightmare, more like.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         

"I'll bet (!) You got beat up again, didn't you?"                                                                                                                                                                  

Trilgas allowed for silence to be his answer.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       

"You can't just let people treat you like that. And you can't take it lying down either. If they mean to hurt you, then you fight back."                                                                                                                                              

"It's not like I want to be the victim. But if I fight them, then I'd be just as bad as they are."                                                                    

"Trilgas, my old friend, if life has taught me anything worthwhile, is that you must always fight to protect yourself. Even if it means getting blood on your hands. In any case, you should eat. You look like you need it. See the meat? It's been delivered straight from the home world."                                                                                                               

Trilgas took small bites of the sweet-tasting purple meat. Because he was a Doplegam, he had to shake his head slightly in order to grind the meat.                                                                                                      

"This could use a little blood," Viltras whispered to him. "Fresh blood."                                                                                                                                                                

"Heads up, guys," said Callrum, Viltras' human friend, as he sat down. Callrum was a skinny man with light brown hair and green clothes. He pointed to a table that had only one occupant.                                                  

She had the likeness of a wolf, with clothing that mixed orange and yellow, as well as a silver ring on her left ear. However, her dark blue scaly skin, curved horns, cloven hoof feet and long thin tail betrayed her as a Rilgan.                                         

Trilgas recognised her at once.

Silfra was her name, and she had garnered a fearsome reputation among the station's populace.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          

Ever since she arrived three weeks ago, she had made it her mission to torment or belittle every Doplegam that lived on the station. The authorities would have taken action long ago, but she would always threaten any person that tried to report her.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             

Trilgas knew the reason behind her hatred, or at least had some idea of a motive: his people held the unsavoury image of being unscrupulous bloodsuckers among other races. It had something to do with the fact that blood made up a small part of their diet, along with meat. This bloodlust, however, was usually reserved for animals. Unfortunately, this monstrous stereotype had been continuously fed by the actions of Doplegam renegades and murderers, reinforcing hatred towards the species in many areas of life.

Viltras chimed in. "Have you guys heard about the Taurcian ambassador that's going to be passing through the station next week?" He clearly wanted to divert attention away from current events.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   

Trilgas nodded. "Yes, it’s the talk of the station." Among other things.                                                  

"I hear she has quite the art collection," Viltras said. "Only buys the best of the best. Maybe she'd be interested in your art, Trilgas."                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               

Trilgas almost choked on his own food. "No, it's not that–"                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   

"What? Did he make a new piece?" Callrum had always loved Trilgas' art with extreme enthusiasm.                                                                                                                                                                                                                   

"No…Well, yes… But…"                                                                                                                                                                                       

"He did," Viltras said, "and it's really something. Show him, Trilgas. Don't be shy."                                                                                                                           

Trilgas struggled to form any words of protest. With some reluctance, he slowly took out his art piece from the satchel lying under the table. Unfolding the thin piece of paper, he unveiled the image of a large oak tree with three women in blue dresses sitting under it.                                                                                                                                                                         

"Wow, Trilgas," Callrum said after inspecting it for a minute. "That's some fine art work. No, it really is. Where did you get the inspiration for it?"                                                                                                                                                                                    

"Well, it's funny actually, because–"                                                                                                                                                       

"Do tell, because I'm curious as well," said a low growling voice.                                                                                          

Trilgas turned and saw Silfra standing over him with a fierce look on her.                                                                                                                                                                                        

"This… Well, it just so happened that…"                                                                                                                                                   

"What?" She said. "Can you do anything other than wiggle your tongue about?"                                                                                                                                                                               

"Hey now, that's uncalled–" When Callrum tried to stand up, she pushed him back down.                                                                                                                        

"Well, Dopelgam?" She growled at Viltras when he tried to say something in protest.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

"My painting… It came to me in a dream."                                                                                                                                                         

"Oh really? Was it a pleasant dream?"                                                                                                                      

"I… I suppose so."                                                                                                                                                          

"You 'suppose'? Is that really your answer?"                                                                                                                   

Trilgas could do nothing but nod.                                                                                                                                                  

Silfra leaned closer to him, baring her teeth. She lifted her tail up so it was equal with her shoulder, and a sharp point extended from it. Rilgans were said to carry the "sting of death" within their tails, due to the potent venom they produced. This would render a victim paralysed, leaving them vulnerable to death via a Rilgan's claws.                                                                                                                                                           

"You know what I think? I think the dream must have been very pleasant. Not because of a love for art, but for blood. Because that's what you Dopelgams are like: when you're hungry, you think of nothing but chucking warm blood down your throats. Were you dreaming of sucking the blood from every one of those girls in your painting?"                                                                                                                                                                                              

"No, I wasn't dreaming any such–"                                                                                                          

"Don't interrupt me!" Her claws scraped along the table. "It's rude. But then again, I wouldn't expect anything less from a Dopelgam. You filthy bloodsucker."                                                                                                                                                               

"Okay, that's enough," Callrum said, standing up. "I suggest you leave. Don't make me call the authorities."                                                                                                                                                             

"Why? We're simply having a nice, friendly chat. Isn't that right, Trilgas? You remember our little get-together last night?" She wore a sinister smile.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            

So you were the one who beat me up last night. I should have known. You seem to get a kick out of tormenting Doplegams.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   

"Because you're acting like a criminal," Callrum said.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               

"Me? It's Dopelgams who are the real criminals. You saw the news, right? A murder occurred. Victim was drained of blood, with a singular puncture mark on his neck. That sort of wound can only be made by a Doplegam's tongue when he is feeding. I bet it was you, wasn't it? Even after our little chat, you couldn't resist satiating your bloodlust, could you?"                                                                                                                                                                            

"No. Please. You've got it all wrong. I'd never…"                                                                                                                 

"What did I say about interrupting?" Silfra shouted.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            

She grabbed his arm. Her tail hovered over his face, and trailed down his body, until it was floating over the middle of his chest. If the stories he had heard about Rilgans were true, then he was about to be given the sting of death.                                                                                                                                                                          

"Hey," a familiar, gentle voice spoke. "Leave him be. He's had enough."                                                                        

It was Xianda, the woman from last night.                                                                                            

"Why don't you mind your own business, human? Can't you see we're in the middle of a discussion?"                                                                                                                                                                                                   

"Yeah." She placed her hand on Silfra's shoulder. "The entire canteen knows about your conversation. Actually, can you repeat some of the things you said in your 'discussion'? Something about 'bloodsucking' and 'filthy'? Pretty sure those words were clear."                                                                                                       

Trilgas looked around the canteen. People were looking in their direction. Despite their prying stares, Silfra turned her attention back to Trilgas. After a long period of silence between them, she finally let out a small threatening growl before releasing his arm and walking away.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        

"Thank…Thank you," Trilgas said, trembling.                                                                                                                                                                                    

Xianda smiled. "You helped me, so I returned the favour."                                                                                                                                                        

"Guess I owe you one now."                                                                                                                                           

"Just buy me some lunch and the debt will be settled." Her eyes turned towards the table. "Hey, whose painting is that?"                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               

"It's Trilgas'," Callrum said.                                                                                                                                     

"Really? You can paint?"                                                                                                                                                      

"Uh… Well, I…"                                                                                                                                         

"Yes, like a professional," Viltras said. "He once painted the entire sub-section of the ship yards; looked so real, you'd think it was a photo. In fact, I'm sure he'd paint something of your likeness if you wanted."                                                                                                                                                         

"Viltras!" Trilgas shouted in embarrassment.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        

She giggled under her breath. "Actually… Trilgas, how would you like to help me with an art project I'm currently working on?"                                                                                                                                                          

"Art project? You paint as well?"                                                                                                                                               

"Yes. Well, I try to. The kind of art I'm working on actually requires two people in order for it to be completed. If you don't want to, or if you have any prior plans, then I understand."                                                                                                       

"Oh, he doesn't have any plans for tonight," Viltras said. "He'd be more than happy to help you with your project. Trilgas here would never say no to a pretty girl like you."                                                                                                                         

She chuckled. "Well?"                                                                                                                                                                        

After a moment's hesitation, and a bump on the shoulder from Viltras, Trilgas responded with an awkward nod.                                                                                                                                                  

"Great. Looking forward to it. Tonight at seven okay with you?"                                                                    

"Ye…Yes. That's fine by me. It’s a date." No. Why did I say that?                                                       

"I'll hold you to that. My home address is Fifty-Four, Zelta Plus. See you then."                                                                                                                                                                                

Once she was gone, Trilgas slowly turned to Viltras and gave him a low growl, changing into a dark shade of red in order to express his anger.                                                                                                                                 

"What? I only gave you the nudge you needed. Have fun tonight, lover boy."                                                                                                                                                       

#

Many thoughts raced through his mind as he neared Xianda's home.                                                                                                                                                                

Trilgas was social when he needed to be around others, but he often found himself more at ease when in the presence of other Doplegams. Perhaps it was the hatred expressed by individuals such as Silfra that made him feel awkward around members of other species.                                                                                                                                                          

His mother always used to say: "There will always be people who fear and hate us. Be careful out there."                            

She had died about a year ago from a terminal illness, and his father died from a driving accident five months later.                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

What if she hates Doplegams just as much as Silfra does?  I'm probably only digging myself deeper. May the Colours bless me with good luck.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

Trilgas had always found some solace in the ancient faith of his people, which worshipped the colours of existence as though they were gods. He would pray to each and every one of them if it meant gaining the strength to stand tall against all adversity.                                                                                                                                                               

"Here it is," he said to himself. "Fifty-Four, Zelta Plus."                                                                                                                                                                                                

He took a deep breath, and rang the doorbell. When the door opened, he was greeted with Xianda's shining smile.                                                                                                                                                                                                       

"Hi. I didn't know whether to bring anything or…"                                                                                                       

"Just yourself is fine," she said. "Come in, come in. Make yourself comfortable."                                                                 

Her home was modest: light green walls and a blue ceiling, both of which were complimented by a sparse assortment of furniture that included a large couch.  The dwelling comprised of a small kitchen area, and a tiny garden in the corner adorned with glowing orange flowers. The spare space in-between was occupied by curious items of differing shapes.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                

This must be her own art-work. "Is this some of your work? It's strange. But in a good way. Strange, but beautiful."                                                                                                                                                                                  

"Thank you," Xianda said, as she took out some brushes. "I've had them for ages, but never showed them to anyone. Well, except…"                                                                                                            

"Samson?"                                                                                                                                                                                

She nodded. "He never had any interest in my art. Or any art, really. Always said it was a silly practice to follow."                                                                                                                                                        

Trilgas scoffed. "And people from the Expanse are meant to be cultured, and sophisticated. People say all kinds of things about Expanse-types, but really… Most of what they say is a load of skret."                                                                                                                                             

"So true," she said, giggling. "It's so good to meet someone else who loves art. I mean, art is everything for your species. Oh… I don't mean to be offensive or anything. But I've heard that a lot of your culture is mostly based around art and colours. I mean, some of the best art in the galaxy is made by Doplegams."                                                                                                                                                                            

He chuckled. "Well, that's actually a bit of a misconception. Though, yes, art is a big part of our society. A bit like how music is a big aspect of human culture."                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

"And you teach your children how to draw and paint from an early age? Is that wrong?"                                   

"No. But I myself didn't learn to draw from an early age, nor did my parents teach me. I started teaching myself at age eleven. Drew a starship as my first muse."                                                                                                                                                                                                             

"Nice and simple."                                                                                                                                                                       

Trilgas nodded. "I know I've done this already, but thank you for standing up to that Rilgan."                                                                      

She shrugged. "No problem. Ever since I moved to Alpraz Station, I've found that my confidence is slowly coming back now that I don't have Samson around. But you shouldn't let that Rilgan treat you like that. Her fear is so irrational."                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

"It is. But let's not ruin this union of two talented artists," Trilgas said. Xianda blushed as he spoke those words. "What is this art project you're working on?"                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            

"I haven't really started to be honest. Been meaning to for a while, but never got round to it."                                                                                                                                                                       

"Samson?"                                                                                                                                                       

"Yes and no. He did think it was a stupid project. But that's not the main reason. You see, it’s a type of painting that needs the natural talents of a Dopelgam. In my opinion, you Doplegam's are like walking canvas'; you can change into any colour you want, and mix and match them at will. You see what I'm saying?"                                                                                                                                      

It was becoming clear to him now: he was to be her muse.                                                                                                         

"I think I do. But am I to be the canvas, or the template?"                                                                                              

"Let's say a bit of both: you'll turn into any colour I want, and I'll paint you as your body becomes those shades. When I saw your painting, I thought you'd be perfect. But I wanted to run it by you first."                                                                                                                                                               

For once, he did not hesitate. "I'd be honoured to be a part of this. I've never been a muse before, but it's a nice change from just drawing what I see."                                                                               

He had heard about this kind of art only a few times before. It was called Shifting Colours, because all artists using this form of art based their paintings around a Doplegam's natural colour shifts.                                                                     

"Great," she said, sounding giddy about the prospect. "In that case, if you'd like to step into the middle space, please, while I prepare."                                                                                                                                                                                 

He felt himself turning blue with pride. As Trilgas stepped into the middle space, he began to practise a few colour shifts, so he would not falter when the painting began. For the first time in a long while, he felt happy as himself. In that moment, he had almost forgotten about Silfra.                                                                                                                                           

"So what's your story, Xianda? Stop me if I'm prying, but I'd like to know more about you as a person."                                                                                                                        

"Not much to tell you, really," she said. "I grew up on a backwater colony, raised by loving parents. Well, mostly… Long story short, they're the reason I ended up with Samson. He seemed to be a great match for me at first, but his true colours began to appear about three months after we started dating. When I told my parents, they simply told me to stay with him, because they believed his temper would serve to keep me in check. I was just a weakling in their eyes, and my feelings didn't matter."                                                                                                                            

"So that's why I came here. Of course, Samson eventually came looking for me. I was afraid he'd find me in my new apartment, so I ran. That’s when you found me in the corridor. And saved me. And for that, I thank you, Trilgas." She smiled softly."So… shall we?"                                                                                           

He nodded. She took out a wooden tripod with a canvas on it, and a full set of paints. They started with a simple blend: she asked him to mix blue with green. It felt unusual to change into different colours at the behest of another. Yet, it was also gratifying to be with someone who shared an appreciation for the expression of a person's soul that was art.                                                                                                                                                                                    

"Now lean yourself backward, as if you're a graceful dancer."                                                                                                                                

He stretched his arms, leaning backwards until his fingers touched the cold floor.                                                                                                                                                      

"Hold it."                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               

After a good few minutes, she told him to take on the colours of an open ocean. Soon, his body became a mixture of light and dark blue. To enhance the image further, he created small white flowing waves on his arms.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

Is this what serenity feels like? If so, then I want it to last forever.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             

"Hold on. Let me just– Oh, space-damn it!"

As she pressed her brush against the canvas, it snapped in two and fell onto the floor. When she bent down to pick it up, her body bumped against the table, knocking over a glass jar filled with water, which shattered as it hit the floor. Grunting in frustration, she tried to pick up the shattered pieces of broken glass. Suddenly she jumped up, squealing in pain.                                                                                                                                    

"Xianda!" Trilgas broke out of his statue-state and ran over to her. "What's wrong? Did you…"                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  

Blood was slowly oozing out of the wound on her finger. He held her hand, and lifted the finger up to his face. Xianda said something to him, but he paid no attention to her words.                                                                                                                                             As he sniffed the wound, he could feel his tongue wiggle. It had a strong, metallic smell to it, which was enticing and rancid all the same. The blood was now running all the way down her finger, and dripping onto the floor.                                        

Trilgas loosened his hold on Xianda's finger, and slowly crouched down to the ground, stooping to a lizard's position. As he opened his mouth, he felt his tongue slither out like a viper leaving its lair.                                                                                                                                                                                    

I want to taste it…                                                                                                                                                   

"Trilgas!"                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       

When Trilgas looked up, he saw Xianda staring down at him with a look of fear on her face.                                                

Oh no. Xianda… What have I…                                                                                                                                                            

"Trilgas," she said, keeping her distance as he slowly stood up. "Are…Are you okay?"                                                                                                                   

How can I answer that after what I just did?                                                                                                                                                     

"I…I don't know, Xianda. You know what? I don't feel so good. Sorry to cut the night short, but I think I need to go home and rest."                                                                   

With that, he turned and walked out of her home. Once outside, he jolted into a sprint. As he ran around the corner, he could hear Xianda calling after him.                                                                                          

How could this happen? What is happening to me?                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     

Trilgas kept on running until he was too exhausted to keep going, and stopped under a white light. He began to bang his head against the wall, doing so multiple times until he felt intense pain on his forehead.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

He had always been aware of the hatred that others held against his race. Despite this, Trilgas always told himself he could fight against this racial stigma, and make it clear these allegations against his people were wrong.                                                                                                                                                        

But were they?                                                                                                                                                                                           

For a long time, he believed anyone who held such views were simply ignorant of his species' true nature: their innate devotion to family and friends. Now, he was only serving to reinforce those hideous stereotypes. And Xianda was not liable to keep his misdeed quiet.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               

I've tasted animal blood before. But I've never craved the blood of humans before. And yet, when I smelled her blood, I felt enticed by the scent. Damn it! What is wrong with me? I'm turning into a monster!                                                                                                                                           

As he stroked his pulsing head, he heard something that sounded like a scream. The sound was faint enough that he simply thought it to be trivial, until he heard it again: more shrill this time.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 

No. Don't be stupid, Trilgas. You'll only attract more trouble for yourself.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            

But as he tried to walk away, the scream became louder.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

Oh, Space-damn it!                                                                                                                                                      

When he got to the source, all he could see was a stooped-over figure. The individual was wearing a cloak as grey as the walls around him, so Trilgas could not make out any discernible features to speak of. But he could tell the figure was male, and a Doplegam, just by the scent alone.                                                                                                                                               

Trilgas could hear muffled grunts and shrieks. As the figure stood up, Trilgas could see that he was trying to restrain someone as they struggled to wrestle themselves free, his claws ripping into their clothing. He could see the hooded figure's tongue dangling over the squirming person's neck.                                                                                                                                                                                                      

He must be the murderer that everyone's been looking for. And that must be some poor soul he's trying to feed on. No… I won't let him take another victim.                                                                                                                                   

With his arms to the sides, Trilgas sprang from the corner, and rammed into the grey figure, throwing him against the wall. Then he grabbed the victim and carried them along. They smelled of perfume, but he did not stop to see who it was.                                                                             

He stood against the cloaked figure, opening his mouth, and extending his teeth out as a means to intimidate him. The figure simply growled in response, before crouching down onto the floor in a predator's stance. Before Trilgas could even speak to him, the figure stood up and darted into the shadows.                                                                                                                 

Trilgas slumped to the floor, struggling to comprehend what had just happened. As he started to catch his breath, he looked down to see who the intended victim was.                                                                                                                                                          

He felt a sharp lump in his throat.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 

It was Silfra. Her eyes were closed, but she was growling.

#                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   

Apart from a long mining shift, Trilgas received nothing but looks of fear from everyone around him. Few people would even talk to him. More than once, he had heard many of his own colleagues whisper dirty insults behind his back, such as "blood drinker" and "bloodthirsty monster."                                                                                                                                               

When he saved Silfra, he did not know what to do but leave her and run. Now he was certain she had told everyone about her experience, and pinned the blame on him. If he had stayed with her, he might have been able to explain himself. And Xianda probably fuelled his image more by relaying her own experience with Trilgas.

Even if he had told someone about his encounter with the murderer, Trilgas only had the person's scent and basic figure to go on, both of which made for poor evidence. And his near-descent into bloodlust certainly did not help to paint him in a better light than the murderer.

Things only got worse when, at lunch time, Viltras sat at the table but Callrum did not.

When asked why, he simply answered: "I'd rather not take my chances with someone who could potentially drink my blood. I've known you for a long time, but…I'm sorry."                                                                                                                                                  

At least he apologized.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 

"Hey, don't pay attention to their words," Viltras said. "It'll all blow over very soon. You'll see."                                                                                                                                                                                                 

"How can you be so optimistic about everything?" Trilgas grumbled.                                                                                                                                                                  

"Well, I tell myself this: 'Never let life get you down. Take every day like it's a sunny day, even if it's raining.'" He chuckled, but Trilgas did not join in.                                                                                                            

"What if they're right, though?" Trilgas said. "I mean… I don't know what happened. One minute I was calm and sociable. Next minute… It was like something awoke in me."

"Sometimes you can get a sudden urge to taste blood–even if you've never craved it before– just by smelling it. Because we drink blood, you see? It's an unpleasant part of our biology, but it happens. Following your instincts doesn't make you a monster, Trilgas."                                                              

"It does when it hurts people."                                                                                                                  

Viltras sighed. "Alright, I'll tell you what. I'm going to help you get through this."                                                                                                                                                          

"How?"                                                                                                                                                                                                              

"There's a special place for our kind. A place that can help you come to terms with your true self."                                                                                                                                                                             

"If this is specifically for Doplegams, then why only mention it now? I mean…why haven't I heard about this from other Doplegams living on the station?"                                                                                                    

"Not many Dopelgams go to it. Only the special ones do. People like us: the ones who are constantly being struck down by society's expectations. But this place, it blocks out all the negative vibes, so you can be true to yourself. Don't you want that, Trilgas? To be yourself without people judging you or exchanging slurs behind your back?"                                                                                                                                                                                                     

"Yes," Trilgas finally said, after a lengthy pause. "More than anything."                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               

"I'm proud of you, Trilgas. Meet me later tonight, on Level 6, at around nine."                                                                                                                                                                                

Viltras... I can always count on you to aid an old friend in distress.                                                                                                                                   

So, when the time came, he met Viltras at the very location, on the very hour. For the first time since last night, Trilgas had actually began to cheer up. However, Viltras proved to be very reluctant in telling Trilgas the location of this "secret place".                                                                                          

"Why won't you just tell me where it is?"                                                                                                                                                  

"It's a surprise. I'll let you know when we're there."                                                                                                                                                                                              

They had travelled down at least seven levels, and walked for some distance before Viltras told him they were there. The level they were on was not too different from the rest of Alpraz station, apart from the darker shade of grey which coloured the walls. The corridors were also more decrepit in nature, barely kept alight by dim lamps hanging over the doors.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        

"Believe me, when you walk through this door, you'll feel like you belong," Viltras said as they stopped in front of a yellow door.                                                                                                                                      

He placed his hand on the side of the door, and a singing chime sounded from it. Soon, there came the sounds of approaching footsteps. As they came closer, Trilgas could sense a strange scent in the air. It was faint but still present. The smell was sickening, yet he could not stop sniffing it.                                                                                                          

What is that smell? There's something familiar about it. Wait… I've smelled this before.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

"Trilgas? Are you okay?"                                                                                                                    

Trilgas grabbed his stomach as a sickness overtook him. He stepped away from Viltras' tender hand, and started to sweat. The footsteps stopped, and the scent was overwhelming now. As the door was starting to open, Trilgas took off running in the other direction.                                                

"Trilgas!"                                                                                                                                                                                                 

Viltras' voice became a distant murmur as Trilgas kept on running. He only stopped when the sickness within him became too strong, stopping under a dim light before upchucking onto the walls.                                                                                                                                                                               

The scent was fresh blood. Human blood.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       

He could not imagine the unspeakable things that might have been going on behind closed doors. There were always rumours, spread around by canteen gossip, about a black market which sold the blood of sapient beings. But he never imagined there would be a place on Alpraz Station for such a market, nor did he ever think that Viltras would ever indulge in such a sinful manner.                                                                                                                                                     

Viltras… Is this your true self? How long has this been–                                                                                                                                                           

He felt his face being pinned against the vomit drenched wall as a large mass smashed into him. The mass held him there for a moment before releasing him, and Trilgas turned to see Silfra standing before him.                                                                                                                                                                        

"So, here you are," she said, growling.                                                                                                                    

"Don't you ever give up?" Trilgas said, wiping away the vomit.                                                                                                                                        

"Why did you save me last night?"                                                                                                                                                

"What does it matter? Everyone on the station sees me as a monster. You've won."                                                    

"Answer the space-damn question, Doplegam," she said, grabbing his neck. "And don't lie, because I recognised your scent last night."                                                                                                                                                                     

She may not believe me, but here goes. "Because I couldn't let you be used as food. Even you don't deserve a fate like that."                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 

She loosened her grip. Her eyes softened.                                                                                                                                       

"Is that so? Or is there something else to it?"                                                                                                                           

Trilgas growled. " For the love of the stars! You know what? You come onto this station, throw abuse at every Doplegam you come across, and treat them like scum. What have my people ever done to you but simply exist?"                                                                                                                                                            

Silfra snarled. She thrust her claws towards Trilgas, but stopped just short of his face.  It was then Trilgas saw another Rilgan in her place: instead of hatred, he saw tears in her eyes.                                                                                                                                                                                                   

"One of your people killed my mother. She was an inter-species psychologist. It was her life's work to help those individuals who felt isolated among other species. She helped them to integrate and thrive in mix-species communities. It was something people always admired about my mother: her compassion for others in need. Until the day her kindness was rewarded with betrayal. She was murdered, and every ounce of blood in her was sucked out, by a Doplegam. One she considered a close friend. Someone we once trusted with our lives."                                                                                                                                                                   

I knew her pain had to come from somewhere. That kind of hatred doesn't stem from nowhere.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

"You know what he said when I asked him why he did it? He said 'I was hungry.'"                                                           

"Silfra, I… No."                                                                                                                                                                                                                 

"That's right. You don't know. How can you understand?"                                                                                                                                                            

"I don't, but I know of the stigma that burdens my people. We suffer for the sins of those blood-lusting sociopaths among us. But I'm hardly any better. Once… I went crazy when I smelled the blood of a human. I never craved it before, but I did then. Even went down on my knees, just to savour the scent. So, if you wish to kill me…"                                                                                                                                                                                                           

He knelt down, and looked up at her with his arms spread out in surrender. She wore a look of genuine confusion on her face. But this did not seem to dissuade her, as she lifted her tail, and held it over Trilgas' chest, ready to give him the sting of death.                                                                                                 

Just then, a voice resonated through the corridor's walls.

"No! Stop!" It was a woman's voice.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          

Trilgas recognised it at once.

He jumped to his feet and ran, with Silfra trailing behind him. By the time they reached the source, he saw Xianda crouched on the floor, with clawed hands wrapped around her neck. She tried to speak, but the hands squeezed her throat.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                

"Viltras?"                                                                                                                                                           

"Yes, Trilgas. You know, I wasn't sure at first if it really was you who stole my evening meal last night. I even covered my scent just in case. But now I know. And look, she's still alive. How are you, darling?"                                             

Silfra let out a low snarl.                                                                                                                                                                     

"That was you?" Trilgas could hardly believe what he was seeing: his own friend, in a predator's frenzy.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   

Viltras sighed. "I was really disappointed when you deprived me of my meal. I was so looking forward to tasting Rilgan blood. Still… my previous kills were easier to handle than her. Like the man they mentioned on the news yesterday. Samson, was it? Yes… Drinking his blood almost too easy."                                                                                        

Trilgas felt an intense anger in himself. In that moment, he let out a high-pitched squeal.                                                                                                                                                       

"Do you hear yourself, Viltras? First the black market blood drinking, and now…"                                                                                                                                         

"It started with black market stuff. Eventually, I grew tired of waiting for new deliveries, so I took it upon myself to find me some donors. Fresh donors. Unfortunately, they never agreed to do it, so I had to resort to… extreme measures."                                                                                               

"I… I can't even tell if this is the real you, or if it's the addiction talking."                                               

"This is the real me, Trilgas. And here I was starting to believe you shared the same ideals. But you're like most of our kind; giving in to the expectations humans place upon you, even when they spit at you, and call you names. You're like a puppy: following their orders, and expecting a little treat in return. Pathetic."                                                                                                                                                                            

"At least I'm not drinking other people's blood! Do you know how many Doplegams suffer for the actions of people like you?"                                                                                                               

"Why should I care about what humans think? Blood is a natural part of our people's diet. Does following nature make me a monster?" He loosened his grip on Xianda's neck, and grabbed her arm, his claws digging into her skin. She squeaked in pain.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             

"You're drinking the blood of sapient beings! That's what makes you a monster."                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       

Viltras turned, and growled at Trilgas. "You choose to turn your back on your heritage, just to keep the humans happy? By my account, you're a traitor to your own race."                                                                                                                                       

"I guess we have very different ideas on who is the traitor here."                                                                                                                      

With rage glowing in his amber eyes, Viltras loosened his grip on Xianda, and slowly stood up.                                                                                                                                                             

Trilgas snarled in anger, and positioned himself into a fighting position. Viltras did the same. Xianda crawled backwards towards the wall, while Silfra tended to her wounds.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            

Both had charged at one another, but only one came out victorious.                                                                                                                                                                                 

#

Trilgas sat in a pool of blood. He stared at his hands, which were now rendered purple. Viltras was leaning against the wall, clinging onto the open wound on his right side, shaking with fear.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             

Only then did Trilgas fully recognise the carnage he had caused. Yes, it was to aid another, but it was still wrath made incarnate.                                                                                                                                                

"I…I…What did I do?"                                                                                                                                         

Xianda came to his side. "You let your inner instincts take control. But it wasn't for blood. You were doing it to save me."                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 

"But… I let myself become a monster."                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   

"Sometimes," Silfra said, "to fight monsters, you have to become one yourself. It was the necessary evil. The kind that saves lives, Trilgas."                                                                                           

She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.                                                                                                                                                                                         

Trilgas wore the colour of innocence lost.                        

Mathew Anderson is a beginning writer from Nairn, Scotland with only a few scattered pieces of publishing. These include a poem published as part of an anthology, run by the Moniack Mhor Creative Writing Centre, as well as two poems published on the Moniack Mhor writing blog.
He is currently studying to become a teacher, and in his spare time likes to go for walks, read and watch science fiction/fantasy media, write stories, and even draw fantasy maps.