The New Born

vampires

When I was young, I owned a children's book of Shakespeare's plays. I wasn't interested in the stories. They bored me and I could have easily treated that book much as I treated most books that I was given at age seven. However, I kept it simply because it had the most beautiful illustrations I had ever seen. Fairies and witches, temptresses and thieves danced along the pages, swathed in gold, peach and ocher. Oberon's silver cloak glittered like finely cut glass in the sunlight of an enchanted meadow, entrancing me, leaving me breathless.

            Now, twenty years later, I was standing in the dark and musty house the realtor had given me the key to. I had wanted to look at it alone, to judge it in the private quiet of my own thoughts, without anyone hanging over my shoulder pointing out the "new" carpeting. What stood before me now in the hallway of the decrepit house reminded me of that book. It made me feel as though anything of beauty I had ever seen meant nothing, paled in comparison to its distractive beauty. I could not bring myself to call it a girl. She had to be something more. When she had danced around the corner so silently that I had almost screamed in surprise, I had been silenced by her. She was utterly, inhumanly beautiful. She couldn't be real, yet she was as substantially there as I was, as present as any solid piece of furniture.

            Dark locks of hair fell in messy tangles atop her bare, white shoulders and twisted slightly in the breeze which passed through the house regularly every few minutes. The tight bodice of her peasant top fit snugly around her waist and her ruffled black skirt ended just above the knee, exposing alabaster legs both shapely and smooth. I realized suddenly why I hadn't heard her. She wore no shoes.

            Glancing up, I met her eyes for the first time. Bright green emeralds inlaid into her ivory skin, oddly bright against the dark shock of her hair. She looked young, a teenager maybe, but there was something about her bearing that seemed to suggest that she was much older.

As she gazed at me, her eyes were tranquil, totally unsurprised by my presence, totally unsurprised by my own surprise. Her pink lips turned up into a seductive smile and I caught a brief glimpse of ultra-white teeth. They were sensual lips, pouting and insolent even in stillness. Now, they were alive with some unnamed emotion. Her angel's faced glowed suddenly close to mine as she sinuously twisted her body closer, closing the gap between us in an impossibly short amount of time.

            Her voice was silky.

            "Hello Tom."

            Her proximity scrambled my mind and I barely stopped to wonder how she knew my name.

            "Do you believe in immortality?"

            As she asked this question, she fluttered her long eyelashes, green eyes on fire. I couldn't answer. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't form a coherent question. I finally managed to say something that sounded like a "no."

            "You don't?" She sounded petulant, teasing, like a child denied a toy. Her beauty scorched me as she leaned toward me, her silken lips touching my cheek with soft tenderness. They were surprisingly cold.

            "That's disappointing. I would have thought a man of intelligence would be able to separate fact from fiction."

            I was confused by the conversation, confused by her presence, confused by everything that had happened. There was one thing that I was clear about. I had never seen this girl before, didn't even know her name, but I suddenly and inexplicably wanted with every fiber of my being for her to be mine.

            As if she could read my mind, she bent her dark head towards my ear and whispered,

            "Do you want me?"

            I simply nodded. Without another word, she flung her ivory arms around me in a lover's embrace, drawing my head down to her lips. Fiercely, she pressed her Cupid's bow mouth against my neck. Her expression was one a madman would wear. Eagerly her icy lips danced fluidly across my skin, pausing only occasionally. The feeling of her lips against my bare skin was exquisite, better than anything I had ever felt. Then, something happened.

            Slowly, the feel of her lips gave way to something that felt strangely like pin pricks or maybe teeth, very sharp teeth. I didn't have time to scream before her fangs plunged into my jugular vein.

Reviews

[Catherine Night]

really well written - really well done! You have a great vocabulary and certainly know how to turn a phrase. good descriptions as well as far as helping the reader to form a mental picture. pretty sweet.