Thirst For Love
I am walking in the moonlight, same moon and the same thirst. There was once a time when people never came out of their homes at night, too afraid of what my kind may do to them. I am not going to say I am the last of my people, I am not, that would be cliché and am not in the mood for a Hollywood ending on this night of nights. These humans are deserving to be our food, especially when they leave themselves open for attack when they attend public houses. So much booze entails so much vulnerability.
My overcoat snaps behind me as the wind passes by with whispers of …“Run”… travelling on it, a warning the food cannot hear. I will not kill in public as the sight of it will invoke screams, so I must stay in the boundaries of the back alleys waiting for stragglers with stumbles in their steps.
A female voice reaches my ears, I crouch myself in a dark corner, camouflaged. She steps in her heels within a tic-toc pace. She shows herself, her skin is pale but has had a brush with make-up it settles perfectly on her, her black hair whips in the wind like my coats trail. She is a petite young woman but her eyes have been informed of fear and warnings. She has a phone to her ear, I don’t see her talking and I hear no voice within the phone… It’s a ploy, only giving the illusion towards her loneliness. I take in a breath full of her, her perfume blurs my vision.
Is this want for her blood of love for her heart? The question prolongs my actions and feed. I have never look upon a beauty like this, I lie, once I did, before the thirst found my lips I had love in my heart, plague blackened hers, I trailed through sunsets looking for retreats from death and unholy medicines but nothing was found, only a curse for blood. A new question arises its eerie face. Do I do what I remember or what is in my nature? Love for blood. She begins to walk from my view; I place both my hands on the wall and take myself from the locks of gravity. I crawl vertically across the wall just for her to rest in my eye once more.
She halts her clock walking and lowers the phone that is attached to her to her side. She turns her head slightly to the side and peers out the corner of her eye, the unwant for a shadow behind her emulates from her stilled stance. Perhaps it is the chilling kill in the air but she looks as though she is shivering. The pestilent wind carries a loose newspaper’s page and drifts it over her head, sending her into a fear driven chain reaction, she quickly pulls from her feet the heels that would surely be a recipe for capture by whomever is lurking in the darkness. She throws her shoes to the gutter and takes off running, making a break for freedom she has never felt before, towards those lights of the streets safety but she a trek to travel before she leaves my kingdom. If I lose her now I lose my love forever to the fear of walking at night by herself… and that I cannot have.
I leap from the walls shadow and travel silently towards my love, over the winds surface. I slam down in front of her and shoot her a look of the animal within me. Her eyes try frantically to see a gentleman or kinsman to assist her with a rescue. Not in this day and age, my love. I stand to her; she fills her lungs with a scream that could be heard by others. I stare into her brown eyes, bringing her into me. She fills up my eyes as I do her mind and soul, I am her everything. She releases the air within her next breath. I caress her face with my cold clammy fingers until I move them discreetly to the back of her head; I brush her long strands of night to the left and tilt her head in the same direction. I take one last breath of her as a remembrance of who she is. I kiss her on her cheek then jaw line and move to her neck. I open my mouth and plunge my teeth into my loves skin and begin to feed.
In all honestly I cannot love, I have no soul to share. In medical terms a Kiss Of Life is breath, which I have not. Love is a chemical anomaly of the human brain. My true love, the love I will die for one day is their blood. A love for blood is my curse and for that to be bestowed upon me I shall forever be alone, as this victim was.
- Free Fiction Friday: Thirst (horroraddicts.wordpress.com)
- Vampire Morality: The Need to Feed (bpattfiction.com)
- Psychological aspects of Vampirism (thingsithinks.wordpress.com)