As always, thanks for this challenge!
We'll explore the meaning of nightfall, to a vampire. Or maybe to those who love vampires…
Any rating, any length. Any pairing. The challenge will run through the end of November.
Please note that all entries should be new stories, and should be inspired by the Challenge prompt.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
2012
The coming darkness was engaging as a wet kiss. A long, slow wet kiss imbued with all the body and flavor of say, oh, a single malt Scotch. The darkness full of the night's gold; air that held a fruity, briny tang. Even before he rose; his tongue roved over his bottom lip. Mick discerned the salty, sherried dryness of his chilled lips.
Inch by inch his sinew caught the awakening call to his blood in his undead veins. He hadn't always been this perceptive. Hadn't he come back from the war to buy a new watch and why? He couldn't tell time 'worth shit', or so Ray told him time and time again. How proud Mick was that he hadn't pissed away all his cash waiting for him at his Dad's bank when he returned to Los Angeles. That money burned a hole in his trousers until he chose the Hamilton post War 10K Gold wrist watch. He'd love to have that watch today if only for the insistent pulse of the strong tick.
In the past 60 years of twilights as a 'Vampire' he'd run the gauntlet from aggression to apprehension. He'd frittered, and who uses that word anymore? Yes, he'd frittered over the rage he held inside his cold heart. Yet, that unkind rage had been blanched when he had to make a daunting request to Josef, to 'return' him.
That had been 4 years ago. Now twilights fell with Mick realizing he'd asked for this 'turning'. He gladly purchased Beth's safety with his transient mortality and that act scourged his loathing from his soul. 56 years of his evenings began in rage and torment. These past four years had been a blessed gift, each night emerging with his slowly uncoiling response to the call of the enveloping darkness.
The 'aura' of outside's diminishing light penetrated his consciousness. It played against the actual cerulean luminosity inside his chilled haven. At that perfect, crisp blueness his flesh woke. Eyes wide open, a yawning jaw responding to the urge. The urge to hunt, to bite, to feed, these urges had once haunted him. Now he lifted the lid and welcomed the 'urge to feed' as he stretched. His cool hands crossed behind his back as he rotated, shaking off the frost. Sensing the silence of his loft, Mick bounded over the freezer's side. With each stride he felt the invigoration of the night as the curled hairs on his bare thighs bristled. Hands fisted and released at each step toward the stairs, eager for one more exquisite night.
He paused, caught the glow of the kitchen's lights, all was well – exactly as he had left it hours ago. The loft was redolently different these past few years, its stark antiseptic odor supplanted with the flavorful fragrances of wine and his woman. For no other reason than pure pleasure he drew in a long breath. Yes, even when he stood naked and alone Mick could feel her ardor surround him.
Preternatural gifts aside, Beth's scent had pervaded his loft. There at the top of the stairs he could 'see' her footprints where she had stolen down the stairs without drying the lavender bath water off her feet. The more he bonded with the darkness, the stronger the scent led him down cool stair treads. He smirked at the 'warmth' of the loft's 68 degrees, a concession to Beth. As he slid the hidden fridge's panel open his canines lengthened along with another part of his anatomy.
A+, the freshest 'G' had, sat waiting for him; with a delft hand Mick flipped the tumbler before him and tore into the bag, then he swallowed the glass' contents like a voracious child. If nightfall was yin then this blood was yang, thrusting his undead heart to quiver. After rinsing the glass he turned to survey the room. His shadow cast long across the island as he slid his palms along the cool stainless steel.
Vampires don't sleep, don't dream. At first to lie down and 'die' was such shock. The excruciating reflection that he would never drift off to dreamful sleep again stabbed at him daily. Mick missed dreaming. His concession? It was in these early moments of 'awakening' that his 'dreams' pirouetted through his mind. In 4 years, a night had not begun without his standing here and savoring a few 'frames' of his fantasies. These waking dreams had initially been just that, yet with the courage to accept himself Mick's dreams took nocturnal root.
As he looked at the date, November 4, 2012, he realized the new drew down earlier. He smiled that it brought the prospect of being up earlier, seeing Beth sooner. Clicking through the headlines he saw the storm in the east, and felt heaviness in his heart – Was Sarah safe? He shook his head; Josef would be all over her care. Sure enough, an email confirmed it; Josef had moved her to a private hospital near Gettysburg.
Mick still flipped through "BuzzWire' nightly out of habit, some actress made famous in a movie about 'sparkly vampires' paid $2.195 million for a 3,361-square-foot house in gated Laughlin Park with downtown L.A. and ocean views. He smirked at the tween phenomena and slid a CD into the player, singing along with NINO TEMPO,
When the deep purple falls over sleepy garden walls
And the stars begin to twinkle in the night
In the mist of a memory you wander back to me
Breathing my name with a sigh
Expectantly Mick stared through the decorative grille, welcoming that deep purple. Welcoming the twinkle he'd see in Beth's eyes. His eyes caught the hour, it 'dawned' he needed to bolt upstairs and get dressed otherwise Beth wouldn't need to step outside to see a 'full moon'.