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Rated: E · Short Story · Emotional · #1932568
story of love and loss for a contest
         Mark Rhodes was walking home from his swing shift as a nurse at the hospital. Typical of early autumn, rain was falling in a slow, depressing drizzle. The street lights were reflected in the hundreds of small puddles, playing tricks on his tired eyes.



                   He loved the smell of the rain. It was so refreshing and always made him feel like the city was being reset; washing at least some of the filth and detritus away so that all the citizens could have a new beginning the following day.



                   He was shuffling along the sidewalk passing all the popular restaurants and clubs. The noises from inside mingling with the noise of the city and the rain until you could not really interpret one from the other.



                   He was walking past the newest craze in clubs, Bloody Kisses. There was a line three deep running the length of the building. Mark shook his head. He could not understand why anyone would want to wait hours upon hours to maybe get inside, and they pay an exorbitant cover charge and have watered down, overpriced drinks.



                   To each their own, I guess. He thought.



                   He saw a stretch limo coming down the street. It was white with red lip impressions on the door; clearly it belonged to the club. It turned down the alley way just in front of him. As it drove past, the world seemed to click into slow motion. The most breathtaking woman he had ever seen was staring out the open window. She had short red hair, cut in the asymmetrical style that was all the rage. Her bright red, full lips set off her bright green eyes. Her eyes were really what caught his attention. She looked directly at him as she drove by and her eyes seemed to speak boredom, isolation, sadness, and pain. The emotions were so raw they hit Mark like a freight train, brought tears to his eyes, and nearly put him on his knees in the rain. He wanted to run to her and hold her in his arms and ease her pain.



                   He watched as the limo pulled up to a side door to the club. A tall, burly guy unfolded himself from the driver’s seat and opened the rear door and held out a hand to help his passenger out.



                   She grasped his hand, and slowly pulled herself out of the limo. She was exquisite, tall, lean, athletic and with plenty of curves. She wore a long sleeved emerald green mini dress made of some fabric that reflected all the lights in a stunning display. Matching green stilettos with what appeared to be chromed heels, also sparkling in the street lights. She stretched, smoothed her dress, and went up the short set of stairs that led to the side entrance, and disappeared inside.



                   Mark stood staring at the closed door for at least half an hour before shaking his head to clear it. How could he be so taken in by the briefest of glimpses of a woman, no matter how attractive? He slowly started down the sidewalk, continuing his journey to his apartment. He was sure that by tomorrow, the mystery woman would be a distant memory.



                   That was not the case, however. Mark found himself running from the hospital to the club every night when he got off work and then waiting on the sidewalk at the entrance to the alley, hoping for a glimpse of his mystery women. It never dawned on him that he was referring to her as his when he had never even met her.  Sometimes he would get lucky and see her as she exited the limo and went into the club. Other nights, he would arrive only to see the white limo parked in the alley. He would wait as long as he could on those nights hoping to see her when she came out, but he was never able to.



                   He started leaving work a few minutes early, which slowly evolved into leaving as much as an hour early just so he could get to the club to wait. If the limo was already there, he began waiting till closing time hoping to see her.



                   He stopped eating like he should; he was only able to sleep a hour or two a night, spending his time staring at the walls of his apartment thinking of this mystery woman instead. He lost weight, and his eyes got dark circles under them. He was put on leave from his job. His boss told him to check into rehab or do whatever he needed to get his act back together.



                   He even started joining the line at the club, hoping beyond hope that he could go in and find the woman who was taking him over.



                   Finally, after months of staking out the club, he saw the limo pulling in. She had her window down, and he was able to see her face. She had the same haunting look on her face. She looked at him and there was a hint of recognition there.



                   Mark’s heart sped up as he thought that she actually recognized him.



                   The limo pulled into its usual spot, the burly driver helped her out and she paused as she was heading up the stairs. She turned and said something to the driver, and then continued inside.



                   Mark, as was his normal, stood staring at the door lost in thought. He did not notice the driver approach.



                   “Excuse me?” the driver said in a deep baritone. “Myra wishes to speak with you. You will accompany me inside please.”



                   Mark was ecstatic. She wanted to talk to him. Her name was Myra. He finally had a name to go with the face. He eagerly followed the driver up the stairs and into the side entrance.



                   Inside it was controlled chaos. Music thundered, coming from everywhere and the bass pounding so heavy that the floor shook. On the dance floor was a mass of people crammed together tightly, but still managing to move and writhe in unison with the music. Lights flashed splashes of color across the crowd. Mark found himself staring around, trying to take it all in.



                   The driver grabbed him by the arm and motioned to a set of steel stairs adjacent to the door they had come through. Mark nodded, and they walked up the stairs. The driver opened a padded, red leather covered door and motioned for him to enter.



                   As soon as he stepped into the room, the door shut behind him, somehow shutting out the cacophony of noise, with only a barely audible thump of the bass remaining. He looked around the room that he guessed was supposed to be an office. A huge window looked out over the dance floor. You could see almost the entire club from here. The floor was made of wood, and was stained black. There was a red and gold Victorian style rug covering a large portion of the room. The walls were padded and covered in the same red leather. Black and red leather furniture was scattered throughout the room. There was a sofa against the wall just under the window, two recliners across from the sofa, and two red wingback chairs facing a huge mahogany desk. Myra sat behind the desk, regarding him with those amazing eyes.



                   “What’s your name?” She asked quietly.



                   Her voice was musical and haunting, washing over him like a wave. “Mark, Mark Rhodes.” He managed to reply.



                   “Well, Mark, I’ve noticed you spending more and more time outside of my club. Why is that?”



                   “I was hoping to get a chance to meet you.” He got the feeling that if he tried to lie she would know.



                   “Well, now you have. Feel free to spend some time in the club. I don’t want to see you back here again.” She started to turn away from him.



                   “What?” Mark was desperate to hear more from her. “I’ve waited all this time and you just want to dismiss me? Just like that?”



                   “Why wouldn’t I? I have plenty of weak willed sheep in the club. I have no need for another.”



                   “I love you!” He blurted it out before he’d even thought about what he was saying.



                   His declaration seemed to take her by surprise. She sat up straight in her chair and really looked at Mark. “How can you love me?” She said after a long pause. “You don’t even know me.”



                   “I don’t need to. I’ve seen the look in your eyes, seen the loneliness and pain etched on your face. I can help.”



                   “You know nothing of my pain!” She yelled, jumping to her feet, and striding quickly around her desk. She grabbed Mark by the arm and pulled him to the window. “What do you see out there?”



                   Mark stared out the window down into the club. After a few minutes of looking and trying to find what she could possibly be talking about he said “people?”



                   “No! They are sheep. They are mindless creatures that are to be used and discarded.”



                   Mark was very confused. “You mean to take their money? That is a bit cold hearted, but I understand the need to think that way when you run a business.”



                   Myra got a distant look in her eyes. She sighed once and her shoulders slumped. She sat on the couch and looked up at Mark. “Not for their money, though that does come in handy, I’ll admit. They are my food. The same way cows or sheep are used by you.”



                   Mark was stunned. Did she really just say that? “Are you trying to tell me that you’re a cannibal? Is this a joke? I don’t appreciate being made fun of after all I have gone through just to meet you!” Anger bringing more force to his words than he’d planned.



                   “No, I am not a cannibal, not in the way you are thinking. I have a condition that requires me to drink human blood to sustain myself. That is my big secret, and that is why you won’t be allowed to see me anymore, or even to remember this conversation.”



                   “What do you mean? Of course I’ll remember this.”



                   “Sit with me and look out at the club.” Myra beckoned.



                   Mark sat and turned to look out the window.

         

                   Quicker than any human should be able to move, Myra sat up, wrapped her arms around his chest pinning his arms at his sides, and bit into his neck. He felt two areas of pain and then all went black.



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                   Mark Rhodes was walking home from his swing shift at the hospital enjoying the light breeze and warmth of the late summer air. He was humming a nameless tune to himself, happy at how things were going. He had come back from a twelve week stay in a fancy rehab facility feeling better than he ever had before. His boss and coworkers had been so supportive, never missing an opportunity to let him know how nice it was to have him back, how much they missed him, and how much better he looked.



                   He was walking past the hottest night club in the city, Bloody Kisses, when a white stretch limo with large red lip impressions on the door pulled into the alley in front of him. The windows were all up and tinted so dark he could not see inside.



                   “Hey!” He yelled. “I’m walking here!”



                   The limo continued on and pulled up to a side entrance to the club.



                   Mark continued on his way home. Stupid drivers! He could only imagine the kind of person that would ride around in a limo like that.  He shook his head, laughed quietly to himself, and resumed humming. It was too nice of a night to let something minor like almost getting run over ruin it.



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                   Myra watched through the rear window of the limo as Mark continued on his way. He was showing no signs of remembering her. She let out a soft sigh. It was always the ones that were the most sensitive to her that were the hardest to let go.



         Mark genuinely wanted to be with her, to help ease her pain and her loneliness. He would have been able to as well. The ones that were strongly drawn to her could, she could easily allow them to, and usually did fall into a state of temporary happiness that would only end in pain and suffering. She had been through it too many times. Things would be great for a while, and then, when they finally realized what she was and how she had to survive, the love would turn to revulsion. She couldn’t bear to watch again as the love they had for her was replaced by fear and loathing. She wouldn’t go through that again.



         It was her biggest secret, and she had hidden it again from prying eyes. She bowed her head, took a deep breath in, and then opened the door, grabbed the waiting hand, and walked into her club.

{/justify}
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