Selene Blanchard

“Come on Selene, let me walk you home” Brandon pleaded as I pulled my jacket on.

 

“I will be fine I’ve walked home from your house alone at night almost a million times”

 

I looked at him his butterscotch hair flopped as he turned his head sideward’s.

 

“Hmm, still don’t think it’s a good idea, I just have a bad feeling about it.” Brandon protested.

 

“Look Brandon you have a house full of half drunk people and your mum will kill you when she comes home and finds the place in a wreak, you need to stay here and keep everyone from breaking everything.” I argued. As if queue there was a loud crash over the already loud music.

 

“Fine,” Brandon said he pulled a hand through his hair, already stressed out with the party, “Remind me never to have another party.”

 

I laugh and say, “I do every time your parents leave town.”

 

Brandon smiles as I hug him goodbye then makes his way in the direction of the crashing noise.

 

Once I was out in the cold winter night, I hugged my jacket closer to me. I felt him watching me from a behind me, it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

My pace quickens, I walk fast until I felt no ones eyes on me.

As I walk my breath heavy, I see the bus stop. I walk over and sat on the cold bench and began to wait for the buss.

 

 

He looked at me through his crystal green eyes. His pale skin glistened in the moonlight, as he silently made his way through the shadows to where I sat. I could feel his presence; the cold air clung to him. His eyes bore into me. I still don’t know if he were looking at the back of my head or neck. He never told me.

 

I didn’t move, neither did he. The only sound that I could hear was from my own heavy breathing. Each breath I took could be seen in the cold air. I felt in my pocket, my knuckles tense as I gripped the pepper spray. Slowly I removed my only weapon from my pocket as I waited for him to make the first move. If I only knew that the spray wouldn’t affect him, if I only ran when I had the chance.

 

If I had let Brandon walk me home like he insisted. If I kept walking, if I never sat to wait for the bus. He would have got me anyway; he would have waited for another chance. He told me he had been planning this for months, years even.

 

He had only been with me since I left the party. But, yet he held a certain familiarity about him. This was not the first time I had seen him. His reflection on the parked red car was out of proportion, and slightly blurred.

 

I fumbled with the lid of the pepper spray. My hand began to shake with the cold or with fear. I suppose both. He took another step towards me. I was tense, His cold presence made me want to cower away.

 

I remember praying for the bus to come swinging around the corner, or even Brandon to of followed me or anyone at all to come and disturb whatever he was planning on doing.

 

Yet nothing came, no one to my rescue. He took another step forward. I held my breath. The cold wind lifted my dark hair around me. He was now close enough I could smell him. A sweet smell filled my nostrils; it was beyond anything I had smelled before. I could feel the saliva building up in my mouth. I wanted, no needed to know his taste.

 

I sat dazed; his sent overwhelmed my head as if it he had hypnotized me. I barley noticed that he had walked around the oak bench to my side. He was looking straight ahead. I looked down, I could see his fists clenched, he seemed on edge. It was hard too keep my head clear, all I could smell was him.

 

“What’s a young girl like you doing out alone at night?” His voice asked.

 

His words seemed to float in the air around me; His voice was strong and powerful yet was graceful and beautiful.

 

I didn’t answer him. He waited his eyes seemed to see through me. I kept my eyes on the floor.

 

Finally as if giving in to his stare I shrugged my shoulders.

 

“Hmm,” he began, “You never know what could happen in the dark.”

 

“I can take care of myself.” I mumbled.

 

The cold air sent a shiver down my spine. I should have walked away, I should have called for help on my phone but I didn’t. I sat there and waited.

 

“No you can’t.” his voice quiet, I didn’t know if he ment me to hear him.

 

“What?” I croaked. My instincts screamed at me to leave but I never. Instead I lifted my gaze to his face. I silently gasped, his face shocked me, and it was beautiful. His skin was pale like snowflakes, his strong cheekbones; his pale hair was slightly rugged and silk like. But the most intense, beautiful feature was his eyes. They are crystal green, like staring into emeralds. His eyes held a sense of mystery and danger. They dragged me in I could of stayed staring at this stranger forever.

 

“No, you can’t look after yourself.” he repeated.

 

He looked away from me. I watch his eyes, they were guarded.

 

“Not yet anyway.”

 

He moved fast, yet graceful. He held me up as I screamed. I dropped my useless weapon. I struggled pulled and yanked trying to get away from him. But he was strong, really strong he held me firmly. I could feel his muscles through his thin shirt.

 

“You will thank me one day.” his voice was forceful.

 

He pushed me away at arms length, his green eyes set on my blue. I watched his eyes the colour drained the green that I had fallen for faded, suddenly a blood colour flooded his lifeless eyes.

 

I screamed, my throat began to ach. He yanked me forward; I felt his cold lips against the thin skin of my neck, they were forceful. They parted and his teeth sunk in. Pain surged through me. My struggling weakened. The pain faded, replaced by a strange wanting and yearning. As he drank, a soft moan escaped his lips. We both felt the pleasure as he drained the life from me. I never wanted this unknown feeling to stop. Before he came into my life it felt like I had only been half alive, now I was complete.   

 

My legs weakened as he held me up. I was dying yet I didn’t care. He ripped himself away from me. I crumbled to the ground; the cold air filled me as my life source was snapped away. My site blurred slightly. He pulled a knife out of his pocket. It glistened in the moonlight as he dragged it over his pale wrist. His blood spilled out. Then he softly pulled my head back and pressed his bleeding wrist to my lips.

 

“Drink.” He grunted.

 

I obeyed. Once again the feeling returned. It was like his blood was a drug and I was an addict. The taste was sweet and warm nothing like the usual taste blood gave my taste buds.

 

My hands found the there way around his arm as I pulled him closer to me. I drank deep, his head fell back as he looked towards the night’s sky as a soft moan escaped his lips.

 

He pulled away, but I wanted more. I tried to grab him but I was weak. I slumped onto the cold concrete. I watched him pocket the stained knife. His face half hidden in the shadows. I felt heavy, and cold. It was becoming harder to breath.

 

He took a step forward and hesitated. As if he was considering helping me. He turned and began to walk away.

 

As he left the sky seemed to open up and snow began to fall. I lay there my limbs frozen, my vision blurred, and my lips turning blue as my already rugged breath died out.

 

Author's Note

Tell me what you think and if you have any pointers

Reviews

[Twilight]

You have described the action as it happens, almost as if you're actually there. In the so called "first person" style. The narrative unfolded a bit like a screenplay in style, as well. Try to keep using proper paragraphs to contain your sentences. Often you have done, so I know that you can.

[.]

This feels like another twilight fan's fanfic, it'll never get any sort of recognition; you should try making it darker, insist on the fact that his smell got the gal drugged, and change the ending, she shouldn't like it, in fact it's best if she dies. A good idea would be for you to write the next chapter through Brandon's eyes a month later; something in the range of "I've never believed in such a thing as intuition. Yet a month ago I felt an urge to help Selene walk back home." and ramble about his feelings at that point, when you're done you start talking about how the police viewed her death (she came back drugged from some party, some creep saw her and found a way to simulate what appears to be a vampire's bite) and then you talk about some under-educated folk in the village she lived in that believe vampires are real and how brandon gets sucked into their cult.
That's just an idea, the point is, don't make vampires nice because they love a gal or want to protect her. You can make them nice for other reasons but you'll have to be very original to differ from others.