In the Dark of Night

This is actually the first of my 8-55 series.

Every night she puts on her red lipstick she puts it on not for anyone, but for herself. She looks out of her bedroom window waiting for someone to get her, yet no one shows. Her naked body shivers from the cold because it is December when only a lovers embrace will keep you warm.



Underneath the full moon did he rise, with only one thing on his mind. The fiery hunger that burns his insides. Everything else is blotted out by that red seething hunger. At the moment all he can think of is the blood pulsating through his veins and the feel of the grass under his feet.


What do you see from the corner of your eye? Is it the dreadful darkness creeping once again? Oh how I hate that dreary darkness that creeps in at this time of the night. It suffocates me so! I feel its fingers slowly searching for my throat, wanting to choke the life out of me.


Gabriel spotted the dark-man yesterday. How did he know it was the dark-man you say? There’s a distinctive air about him, the way he walks with a limp, whatever you do, stay away from his vise-grip hands! His breath smells of rotting meats, his body stinks of things dead that have laid in the streets.


There’s a red rose in the cracked vase in the corner of the mantle. Even thought there’s no water in the vase, the rose still blooms. Is it fake? You ask me as I smile on the inside. It is as real as you and me. I answer as the rose opens to full bloom.



“I am tired of vampire fan girls. That particular writer ruined the genre for me.” Suzette whispered over her tea as Jacob looked on. “Imagine what a bad name she gave us vampires” Jacob scoffed as he gulped his coffee down without a grimacing. “Yeah, we are so ‘kawaii!’ as fan girls say.” Suzette smiled.

              
         
“Mary, Mary quite contrary how does your garden grow?” “Oh what you would like to know?” Mary growled from her garden bed. “It grows bratty children and annoying neighbor’s pets. That’s what this Earth gets.” Mary answers out of breath, her chest heaving, her blouse soaked with sweat and caked with dirt. Poor contrary Mary.


         
“Have you ever wished upon a shooting star? Wishing that it would crash and fall? Be careful what you wish for my dear child, because it might come true or it may back-fire. Now you don’t want a bad wish do ya?” Gerda asked little Andre. “No Auntie” Andre whispered as he shook with fear.