A Blood-Sucking Escapade

It was highly questionable that anything Luke was doing that evening to the particularly unfortunate woman who had wandered into his grasp was in any way standard morality. But being a vampire, and to some extent, dead, he didn’t really have to worry about any of the ethical bullshit that humans came up with nowadays. So he just sucked away at the young lady’s lovely slender neck, the colour of milk, and her blood red. Divine. It was sweet to taste, and already he could feel his cold lifeless body regenerating.

The night was calm and beautiful. A full moon was out, as Luke’s thoughts rushed to his very distant werewolf cousins lounging in some dismal forest somewhere in Eastern Romania. He was glad that vampires were the more dignified of the immortal races. He lived in a beautiful country-style mansion, complete with secret passages behind bookcases and all that jazz; a child-like favourite of Luke’s.

He had to admit, the whole ‘living forever and sucking people’s neck blood’ was getting rather monotonous, but  there was something that made the nightly escapades interesting.

Luke had discovered that every human had a particular taste, a flavor in their blood, and often it marked who they were as a person. Take for instance young Grace here. Still a virgin in her prime, barely in her 20s, and her blood tasted somewhere along the lines of…yes, a mixture of peaches which smelled like heavenly perfume. And then it quickly ebbed away.

This was the price Luke had paid. For eternal life on a planet that no longer held any significance whatsoever, he glorified in the feasts of blood, because those were the only instances he felt a little bit of his life returning, and even that didn’t last long.

As he finished off the last bit of her blood, he tossed her aside and she collapsed onto the cold, hard floor, her eyes black and dead.

Author's Note

Written 27 December 2009.