Vampire

Vampir, Edvard Munch 1895

It's not so bad, he thinks, not when she holds him like that.  Somehow she manages to be soft, comforting and terrible all at the same time.  Her arms are as cold as the grave but speak of the oblivion he longs for.  She is a reflection of him, and embodiment of his desires and fears.  He wonders if she actually exists in her own right.  She is a creation of his psyche made flesh, that is the only explanation.  As she hugs him closer, he is lost in the scent and feel of her, the wild need in him growing.  He bleeds into her.

When her teeth penetrate him, he thinks nothing of it.  It’s another part of her seduction.  The promise of injury and possession does not repulse him.  She is amazing and dangerous and beautiful and fearful.

 He is fading into her.  She is not just a mirror to his desires, or maybe she is not that at all.  Now that she possesses him, he loses the awareness of himself as a separate entity.  Her arms encircle him.  His head rests on her breast and he feels the stillness in her.  He feels the stillness wash over him.  He feels his heartbeat slowing.

Her hair burns like fire in the night.

His eyes drift closed. He is slumped into her now and barely aware of what is going on.  He hears the suck of her mouth and feels the piercing teeth in his neck and it is too much, it creates too much feeling inside of him.  He is traveling through his veins into her mouth and her body; he is not a man but just his blood.  She has taken control of him and he does not exist beyond being a warm body.

She sits up and licks her lips.  The man collapsed forward and off the bed, insensate.  He’ll be fine in a few hours, she knows, but he has served his purpose.  She leaves two aspirin and a glass of water on the bedside table.  She may be a monster but she’s not inconsiderate.  The man starts snoring raggedly and she is filled with disgust.  Such a man is not to her tastes, usually, but she was starving before.  Now his blood, heavy and thick as it may be, thrums in her veins and brings a blush to her white cheeks.

It’s cold and damp outside but she does not feel it.  With her veins full of someone else's blood and the donor forgotten about, the night belongs to her.  She feels the hunger increase even more, even though she's fed, and her gaze is shrouded in red.  The lust for more more more has only been whetted.

 The people she passes are not people, only vessels for blood that call out to her.  She’s not an animal, she does not lash out at the first one that comes her way.  The lust is sated as much by the hunt as by the blood.  And these people who walk by, the ones who glance at her quickly and then away, are too easily had.  She feels them watch her.  Some gazes are heated and linger.  Others are fearful and furtive.  She walks along as if she does not notice.  Her hunger requires a special sort of desire.

There are so many places she could go tonight so she wanders through the city for a long time.  It is a place where calmness has never existed and there is always something to be exploited.  She chose this place as her home for that reason entirely.  She is an old vampire and her needs are simple when she can take care of them.  This city is her supermarket, her grocery or restaurant, whichever metaphor works best.

She makes up her mind and starts stalking the night with at a more determined pace.  It is that time of night when people have to drift out of bars and nightclubs, bleary from drink, and head home.  This is the time when finding the ones to strike is easiest.

She finds them almost immediately because it is so cliche.  They are a young couple and, perhaps, high on drugs that have made them handsy.  They're back behind a club and in the halogen-lit dimness they cling to each other.  She watches them, still as death, and waits for the right moment.

Their hands roam over skin and clothing but the latter is rucked up or soon discarded.  They pay no mind to whatever may be going on around them.  Closing their minds off to recognizing her is absurdly easy.  She pulls the man away first.

He does not notice the change in partner and picks up where he left off.  She lets him continue to do so for a time until it bores him.  She bites him, takes as much as she wants and pushes him away.  The girl waits dutifully by her side and the vampire smiles.

She is innocent, this girl, even though she was in a back alley misbehaving.  She enters her embrace easily and eagerly.  The possession is almost mutual as her fangs pierce the young women's neck.  The blood is sweet and so hot as it caresses its way down her throat.

The girl sighs and relaxes into her arms.  It is better, being held like this, than being pawed at by the boy.  The vampire holds her like a lover but it is an embrace, not an interaction.  She is not trying to take any pleasure besides that of the nourishing blood.

She slips away and the boy and girl drift back together like nothing happened.  The girl rests her head against his chest and he does not say anything.

She stalks off back to her nest.  The night grows old and people go home but she takes the city as it comes.  This is her home and her people.  This is her unlife.

Her hair burns like fire in the night.