Midnight's Disaster

I stared hungrily from the shadows with blood red eyes at my prey.

Sometimes the pains just became too much to resist. My mouth was dry from thirst, and I licked my lips to wet them down. Being who I was was harder then most people would think. I tried not to blink, but I eventually gave in.

It made no difference; my prey had not moved from the bench where she sat. A sketch pad and pencil were in her hands, she was intent on what she was doing. I wondered why she was out here so late alone, simply sketching. The sun was almost done setting, its brillant colors already begginning to fade. My vivid imagination gave her an alibi. I enjoyed doing this, even in my hunting mode.

Perhaps her parents had been fighting, and she was here to escape the Hell that was her home. The girl tucked a strand of straight brown hair behind her ear, and away from her face. She was in deep concentration, and I moved with quiet steps so not to distrub her from her drawing. Perhaps, I marveled, I would examine her sketch book when I was done.

I promised myself once again that this was the last time. I reiterated this to myself as I moved from the shadows to the street. I stepped silently onto the blacktopped road, which was the major thing separating me from my prey. It was the hunter vs. the prey, and my victim did not even realize it. Inside my head, I assured her that it was going to be painless. You won't even feel it.

Unlike many of my kind, I did not like humans to suffer. Afterall, we were much the same. I was but one step away when she looked up. For one split second, she noticed nothing wrong with me. Then our eyes met, and her mouth opened to let out a shriek. A shriek that would alarm anyone too close to my hunt. But then my thirst took over, and I was too quick for her slow human reactions. She was silenced before she had begun. My hand held her neck in place as I bent over her.

I felt my mouth position itself almost automatically against her soft skin, letting my fangs sink into her throat. All this happened in a brief moment, faster then any normal movement. Unlike many myths, my kind moved at the same speed of humans. Until they were in hunting mood. Until they were hungry.

I stood in that position for almost a solid minute before I could bring myself to pull away. There. That wasn't too bad, was it? I gave her a reassuring smile, revealing my fangs. The girl did not respond. Of course she didn't. She was dead.

I laughed at the absurd habit I had developed. Talking to my victims. God, did I have a sick sense of humor. I looked at her neck, where my fangs had left two small, neat marks. Perhaps I was getting too good at this. My cravings were so much to handle, and I hated how bad I was at controlling them.

I blinked, and ran my tongue along my teeh. As I had suspected, now that the thirst had been satisfied, my fangs had retracted. I sighed with contentment, but also with self-disgust. Two sides that were so completely opposite were hard to content at once.

I picked up the notebook, a dull thud resounding throughout my eardrums. Now that the hunt was over, I was disappointed with myself once again. I licked my lips, before instantly regretting it. The taste of blood still lingered on them. I forced down a gag, before glancing at the page my latest victim had been working on.

It was an accurate sketch of the building across the street from her bench. I even could make out the shadow I had been hiding in before I had made my attack.

I flipped through other pages, and I suddenly found a link into this person's life. At the bottom of each sketch, a name was signed. So this girl's name was Cammie. Flipping through these sketches, I saw ordinary scenes she had drawn. But I just knew they were a part of her, that these things each held something of importance to her. A few of them held pictures of a boy a few years older then her, which I assumed was her brother.

Bile rose to my throat. Not only had I murdered another being, but I had probably destroyed that boy's life, too. Her mother and her father, too, though I did not see them in her sketches. Sickened, I tore out a picture featuring Cammie's older brother, and threw the book down at the dead girl's feet. "Revolting." I hissed into the night.

Nauseated, I left my prey behind as I walked down the streets, towards my home. At least it didn't hurt, right?