The Vampire
By Faith ©1997
The night is heavy upon me, the blackness bearing down on me like a nightmare of dark shadows and shimmering stars, the moon shines above with a ghostly white light, full and cool. From the recesses of the forest, within the latticework of interwoven branches and thick green foliage, comes the rustling of cloth, the cracking of twigs, and before me materializes a man.
Feeding In Paris
©
Michelle Lee
Eyes of liquid; mercurial depths ofswirling fluid flecked with stars of black, shards of ebony jewels glinting in the light, stare at me with hypnotizing beauty and haunting purity. They are voids of hunger, omnipotent and ethereal, gazing coolly with inhuman power, eyes of predatory savageness like the falcon, mesmerizing yet frighteningly cruel as though untouched by mercy or love. His lips are thin and sensual, twisted into a chilling smile of desire, his nose aquiline, the sensitive nostrils are flared as if smelling the air, and his stature is tall, slender. He moves with an arrogant grace, compelling, his body lean and supple and strong, iron hands reaching out to grasp me firmly and I am unable to resist.
"So pure." His voice is terribly cold, as if emptied of all emotion except the burning hunger pulsing within, his mouth is stretched in a grin, revealing white teeth coated in blood and his breath is hot against my throat. His face is so pale and uncaring, beautiful yet deadly as the lion in the heated jungles of Africa, and one hand strays down my side. I struggle against his grip, whimpering as he tears my blouse roughly, and his elegant fingers touch the curve of my chin. "So young."
"What are you doing?" He leans forward, bringing his lips to my throat hungrily and I feel the bite of fangs in my flesh as he draws blood from my veins. He moans as I sink into the blackness, my life force slipping away and my fear drowning beneath opulent waves of oblivion, and I raise my voice in a last, desperate scream of denial.
The river of darkness begins to fade away, my head now throbbing with a furious beat and my stomach torn by a gnawing, ravenous need, and I open my eyes wearily. He smiles coldly, mouth curving in a grin of malicious desire, eyes of midnight filled with lust in gleaming radiance, and I rise, trying to push him away.
"So, my sweet, you have awakened." His voice is dark, oddly possessed by wicked pleasure, deep and sensual and piercingly sardonic.
"What did you do to me?" I cry, despairing and angry, yet still feeling a burning appetite.
"You are mine now, you are vampire."
"No." I speak drowsily but defiantly, knowing that he is not lying as he offers his slit wrist, and I cannot deny this blood lust trembling violently within. "Why?"
"You are the one I desire."
"But I don't love you."
"So? I don't love you either." He shrugs easily, not caring and irrevocably indifferent, spiteful and mocking with his arrogant, sarcastic smile. "Love? What is love but passion in disguise? Love is pathetic, it's sentiment, it's useless, it's so bloody weak. How sickening, how touching to love someone."
"Oh God, you monster. No ..." He laughs heartily, a derisive chuckle of amusement, and I feel the blinding urge and compulsion of being a vampire, the overwhelming craving for crimson vitality. I realize the true evil within him, the scornful and detached desire that in its urgency defies everything but fulfillment, but the release of that engulfing need that writhes inside us, and I feel it begin to envelop me, I am forced to succumb to the demonic hunger within my soul ...