Twilight

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An erotic funeral for which she's dressed.
1.9k words
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In the early evening, the world looked so very still, serene and peaceful. The trees stood around where I was sitting in the dimly lit parking lot. From where I sat, I could see the faint pink and orange tint and the wispy blue-green clouds that slipped across the Western sky. I sighed and admired the trees for a while with their orange and yellow leaves, still turning color in the chill of the early October weather. The weather was wonderful that day as I sat on the cold stone bench with my book, reading before the dark threatened my vision. This was my favorite time of the year as the leaves turned colors and fell to the ground. I remember the feeling of contentment as I sat in the slight chill, cozy in my warm coat and sweater. I was happy just to sit there and take in the sentences in the book, filled with the stories of vampires, my infatuation since childhood; although I knew they could never exist.

I smiled and sighed again as I returned to the pages, completely enthralled with the sinister beauty of the creatures described in the paragraphs before me. I could almost feel their plight, wishing to be human, but compelled to commit the one act that would most likely kill any humanity they might still hold. They were forced to drink the blood of the one thing they wished so incomprehensibly to be. Some stories made me want to cry.

I finally could no longer read the words within a few hours, closed the book and returned it to my purse, but still wished to sit there just awhile longer. It was a calm night. Not even the night creatures made any sounds around me. I looked up and admired the stars in their beauty and looked for the moon. The night had always brought me comfort, especially being away from home. I was not more than an hour from my parents, but I was still on my own, alone, and in a huge university. No one knew your name or cared. At least sitting here on this cold bench in the early night, I could find a little bit of home.

It was then that I saw it, or more sensed it. Something was there with me. I could not tell what it was. Since I could not see it, I did not think it existed. How wrong I was! Something was in the air, something that made me uneasy. I fidgeted a little on the bench, blaming it on the cold. My skin crawled, like when I let the shadows play tricks on me. I looked around to show myself I was not, in fact, alone, but not even a glimpse of any other human being. I sensed movement again, and looking provided nothing. I was scared out of my wits, but found myself held to the spot, curious what the thing was.

I thought I was going mad as I sat there, wondering what was there, too frightened to move and too curious to leave. I closed my eyes and listened, hoping to hear the sound of dog tags or a cat bell or someone walking. I found nothing to meet my rapt searches but the sound of my own thundering heartbeat.

What was out there? My heart screamed danger, but my mind said something different, an animal or a person. I reasoned with myself there was no such thing as witches and vampires or ghosts. For some reason, though, I did not want to believe myself. I sat there until the dark was almost complete, my body screaming at me. I was unable to respond.

I felt a presence to my left on the bench and turned and opened my eyes. What I saw made my feelings even more a mystery to me. I wanted to touch him, feel his cold skin. His beauty was something before which I had never seen. He was a stunning porcelain doll, sitting beside me, making no sound, looking at me with animated eyes from a still, mannequin-like face. I reached my hand up and touched his face gently with the tip of my index finger.

Vampire!

My mind and body screeched at me to flee. My heart beat out of my chest and I must have jumped high enough I slid from the bench to the ground. The dull thump of my body against the pavement no more than a whisper to me, yet a crack of thunder to him. I swallowed hard and reached tentatively for my purse, watching him as he watched me. I took the bag and stood, then backed away, watching him the entire time.

I had managed to back a few feet before something attracted my attention and I turned for a split second. When I turned back, he was gone. My breath caught in my chest.

Gone. Finally.

My entire body relaxed then, my head dropped and my eyes closed, the sigh whooshed from my body as I turned to walk back to my dorm room. I had taken just one step and then opened my eyes when the man was in front of me again. I inhaled sharply, in my fear, I could not even scream.

His face was too beautiful, too perfect. He raised his finger slowly and placed it across his lips and a thin stream of air hissed from his lungs. He then smiled slightly and held his hand out to me. I faltered back a step and my hand went for the hollow of my throat before I could stop it. He followed the motion, tilting his head a little as if curious why I was afraid of him. His hand remained extended as though he expected me to take it. I reached out and touched the coldness of his hand and shuddered as he closed it over mine. He then led me across the lot, away from the dorm buildings, and into the woods across the street.

My heart was beating so hard and so fast I thought it would burst in my chest. My God, he was cold. He felt colder than my grandfather's forehead before they buried him. I shivered and forced myself to look at him. His face was friendly, although I was still frightened of him. His face was a ghostly white with dark, dark eyes. I could not exactly see them, but they were so dark I would think them to be black. His hair was also a deep dark black; it almost appeared to be blue. It was so long it touched the backs of his knees. Two locks fell over his shoulders and only touched the ends of his ribs.

His clothes, I finally noticed, were old. He was wearing a long coat, a deep grey in color, and the tails down to mid-calf. There were three gold clasps in the front, holding it closed over one of the old poet's shirts. He wore a deep blue sash around his waist and lighter blue, form fitting pants. He looked as though he had stepped out of a history novel. I swallowed and walked with him to wherever he decided to lead me.

We reached a small clearing in the middle of the woods where a small picnic had been set and he gestured for me to sit. As I did, so he sat, and offered me food. I accepted it, as I was very hungry. I had not eaten since breakfast that morning. The sandwiches were my favorite kind: sugar cured honey ham with baby Swiss cheese on white bread. I ate two of them with an orange and a peach and drank the fruit juice he offered as he watched me, never saying a word.

After I had eaten and was quite full, he smiled at me and sighed. We just sat there, him and me, staring at each other. I could not take my eyes off him; he was enchantingly beautiful. He stared at me out of wonder, I think, as I sat there, my breath rising as steam in the air, face flushed, and shivering slightly. He rose again and smiled at me, offering me his hand. I took it, unafraid this time. He had not hurt me thus far, and we were away from everyone. Besides I had been lonely here in this place. He was someone to hold company with.

He led me deeper into the woods where a large tree had grown. At the foot was a bed of moss and pine needles. He sat and pulled me down beside him, gingerly, as though he would break me should he pull too hard. I smiled at him and settled in the little nest. He touched the back of my neck with his cold hands and pulled me close to him. His mouth rested by my ear for a moment before he whispered for me to be still. He rubbed the back of my neck gently and pulled me closer, his cold lips touching my ear. I could feel his lips move as he said, "Be still. I will not hurt you for long."

It took a moment for the words to set it. "I will not hurt you for long."

I tried to pull back from him, but he held me in an iron grip with only two fingers. I could feel the cold wetness of his mouth as he lightly kissed my neck. I breathed in deeply of the woods and made a quick prayer for help as the stranger sat holding me like a child in his arms. I was powerless to stop him. I waited as I felt his teeth press ever so slightly against my flesh. All I could do was wait.

I felt a sudden pain like several bee stings on my neck. I stiffened and tried again to pull away from him, but without success. I had no choice. He had fed me and now I was to feed him. Since I could not pull from him, I settled into his arms as he began to suckle at my neck. The feeling was pleasant, so I focused on it to help ease the dread that filled my body. I had no fear of death or of where I was going when I did die, so I would see this as God's will. I would surrender to the little pleasure I had and accept the pain as it came.

This seemed to please my captor as I nestled into his arms. I drifted off to a pleasant sleep, the warm darkness settling over me as he nursed from my body.

A voice roused me from the dreamlike darkness, floating to me as though it were through the folds of a warm, fuzzy blanket in which I had cocooned myself. It bade me drink and I did so, feeling the pull of sleep. The fluid was warm like the cinnamon cocoa my mother used to give me when I was sick. I drank down all I was given until he pulled the fount from my mouth. I settled back into that dream again, sighing contentedly as someone stroked my hair and sang me to sleep.

I awoke the next night with an unquenchable thirst and with a feeling I had never felt in my life. I knew the terror now as I had always read in my books, but somehow, it did not seem all that bad anymore.

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