First Meetings

Aron paced his room, his thoughts chaotic.

The girl he had seen was a blast from his past, not only with the garb, but because she looked so much like Susan.

The long, dark braid, the high eyebrows, the full lips, the blunt nose....

But there were differences. For one, the eyes. Susan's had been a warm brown, much like a cow's. This girl's eyes were a cool green, like jade or emeralds. The second was her manner; completely emotionless. She wore blank expression, and even her voice was flat.

Aron knew that humans didn't naturally come that way- something must have happened to make her that way. He wondered what had happened.

Susan, on the other hand, had always been kind and gentle, with a smile on her face and kindness in her eyes.

He stopped pacing and ran his hand through his hair out of habit. A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth as he remembered Susan scolding him for it. His eyes absently scanned the pale walls for something to distract him. Like always, his eyes fell on his carving shelf. On it was at least two dozen wood figures, all of them different, all of them painted. Some of them featured the same people, just in different arrangements.

The one his eyes were drawn to was of a single girl, of about sixteen. She was in several of the carvings. In this one she stood strait, her arms at her sides. Her brown hair flowed down her back and was littered with bits of foliage. She wore a full-length dress of green that exposed her slender shoulders and arms. A faint flush suffused her cheeks. He picked it up and cradled it in his hands.

Suddenly, Aron was exhausted. He flopped onto his bed fully clothed, a combination of sunlight and shock causing him to fall into a deep sleep. He passed out still cradling the doll.

Like most of his kind, he didn't dream. Instead, He remembered.              


Carey carried the last box of her things to her new room and dropped it on the unmade bed. She looked around- it wasn't to fancy. The walls were white, the carpet brown, and blinds on the small window. Boxes and bags were scattered around the room along with her furniture. Sighing, she rolled up her sleeves an got to work.



Six hours later, Patience opened her daughter's door to find her lying on her bed, eyes closed, Mozart playing softly.

Without opening her eyes Care intoned, "Yes?"

"Carey, dinner's here. Pizza." her mom answered.

"Cool," Carey replied and followed her mother out to the dining room.

At the dinner table, Carey made no conversation, just ate her food. After she finished, she announced, "I'm going to sit on the porch for a while, okay, Mom?"

"Yah, okay. But take a sweater. It's a little cool out." Her daughter nodded and got the sweater. Patience sighed as she watched Carey leave- she was so worried about her. Carey no longer smiled, no longer laughed. Carey's embroidery, once her pride and joy, had lain untouched for weeks. At school, her friends reported her as reclusive and unemotional. Her schoolwork suffered.

Patience sighed. "D****t, Stan," she muttered to herself, "why'd you leave?"


It was a beautiful summer afternoon. Susan walked hand in hand with him, a wreath of forget-me-nots resting in her hair, her light blue dress billowing about her in the light breeze. Aron broke away and ran ahead, stooping to pluck a large daisy for her.

Aron, Susan, and Susan's sweetheart, Ian Forbes, played like that in the field for hours, wrestling, chasing, picking flowers for flower chains. All to soon, it got dark.

"Bother," grumbled Susan. "It's getting to dark to see. We'd better just wait until morning, Red."

Aron had nodded, wanting to seem brave for Susan. They gathered dry wood and kindling, found a protected spot, and built a fire. Aron was hungry, but he didn't complain. He snuggled into Susan's warm side and dropped of to sleep.

His dreams were filled with fairy-tale creatures of all types- faeries, trolls, giants.

Susan's scream pierced his ears and he was yanked from his dreams--


Aron jerked awake, his stomach growling in cruel reminder. He grimaced, remembering he hadn't had a full meal in almost three nights. Rolling over, he checked his alarm clock- 7:05.

He slipped out of bed and willed himself to his favorite New York slum. He wandered, looking for a likely candidate. The streets were mostly empty at that time of evening- to late for kids to be out, but to early for most of the street criminals to be out either.  

Every once in a while, he stumbled across a druggie or a drunk, but he rejected them due to the substances in their veins. They wouldn't effect him, of course, but it would effect the flavor and quality of the blood.

After about half an hour, he came across a street walker without any apparent problems.

"Perfect," he thought and a small, grim smile twitched at his lips.

Aron lured her into an alley with the promise of $50 for a blow-job. She came willingly enough, and when they were completely concealed by the shadows, he sent a command to her mind- "Sleep."

Her eyes rolled up and closed. Aron caught her easily as she fell, one arm around her waist, the other positioning her head so that her neck was easily accessible.

Sighing, Aron whispered, "Forgive me," then banished everything human in his mind.

The monster came from its remote hiding place, took over- and began to feed.


Carey sat on the step, fiddling with the hem of her sweater. She sighed and turned her face into the cool breeze, enjoying the brisk feel. To often she would fall into a kind of numbness, not feeling or thinking of anything now. She would go through the motions, but nothing really interested her anymore- not her books, nor her sewing, nor her schoolwork. Food and sleep barely caught her attention.

The door opened behind her and her mother told her, "Carey, it's almost eight-thirty. You should come in soon."

Carey nodded and replied absently, not opening her eyes, "Sure, Mom. I'll be in soon." The door closed behind her. Carey sighed.

A young, cheery voice called, "Hi."

Carey's eyes snapped open and scanned the area in front of her, landing on a young boy of about ten with wild, shoulder-length red hair and pale skin. He stood on the sidewalk under a small oak, leaning against the tree. His hair got in his eyes, but he looked normal enough in a red shirt, blue jeans, and sneakers, but something about him was odd.

"Hello." Carey replied cautiously.

"Did you just move in?" The boy asked. Carey nodded in return.

"What's your name?" He asked, tilting his head to one side slightly, like a dog.

"Carey Smith." She answered. "What's yours?"

"Aron." the boy called, giving a toothy grin. She noticed his canines were very sharp.

"Well, Aron, where'd you spring from? And aren't you a little young to be out by yourself at this time of night?" Carey inquired.

The boy gave a small laugh and answered, "You have no idea how ironic your statement was, Carey." Carey cocked an eyebrow, confused.

After a few moments, she broke the silence by saying, "Yes, well, I must be going. My mother will start to worry if I'm not in soon. I'll talk to you some other time, Aron."

At that she rose and swept inside so quickly she barely had time to hear him answer, "Goodnight, Carey Smith."