This is an unfinished story inspired by a dream that I had the night after I finished the book by Stephenie Meyer, Twilight
He looked at her strangely. "A toast to you," he said with a strangely serious look, in an equally strange voice. "You should enjoy it. You never know when a toast will be your last."
I was running. I could hear him behind me, running faster than I ever could. He would be on me in a moment. I slowed, turned, and waited for him to find me.
When he saw me just standing there, staring at him with frightened eyes, he stopped, too. Then, he began to . . . stalk –that's the only word I could think to describe it- towards me, with slow, deliberate steps. He was only inches from my face now. I could smell his sweet breath, drawing me to him, to his mouth.
Now he was only centimeters from me, his eyes were almost black, the deep sapphire gone, his head angling towards my oh-so-vulnerable throat, his mouth beginning to open, ever so slightly.
I closed my eyes, and wished in my mind that it was anyone but him, and that I at least could tell my mother that I loved her for the last time. I waited and waited to feel the bite on my neck, to feel the first bit of blood draining from my body. I wondered if it would hurt. I waited for what seemed like forever. Nothing happened.
"I can't do it!"
The whisper seemed so loud in the quiet, gloomy forest. I cautiously opened my eyes to find him in the same position he had been in when I had closed them. I risked speaking.
"You can't do what?" I whispered back.
He started at the sound of my voice, then fixed his now-glowing sapphire eyes onto mine. "I can't kill you. My entire body is screaming with the need to taste your blood, but I just can't kill you. My . . . heart . . . is stopping me."
He slowly began to move his head away from my neck. I stepped back, putting some space between myself and the person who just confessed that he wanted my blood, and then said that he couldn't because his heart wouldn't let him kill me.
"Your heart wouldn't let you kill me, why? Not that I'm complaining any."
He gave me yet another strange look, and then said, "You know, most humans would have already been running for the garlic by now."
"I hadn't thought of it. Would it have worked anyway?"
"No, I like the smell of garlic, and I know you hadn't thought if it yet. That's why I was telling you."
"You can read minds?" I asked, interested despite of myself. Strangely, I wasn't scared of him at all. I knew I should be, but I wasn't.
He chuckled. "You aren't scared at all, are you?"
"No, I'm not, and you changed the subject. That's twice in the last two minutes."
He looked at me, dumbfounded for a moment, then, "Well, maybe I don't want to answer the questions you ask" He laughed.
I was now officially annoyed at him. He laughed at me again. I started to walk away from him and all of his blood-sucking weirdness. Suddenly, I felt cold, hard hands on my shoulders, turning me around. I shivered. He let go quickly and backed away again, shaking his head, not looking at me.
"What?" I asked, annoyed, a little, and kinda scared.
"The path's that way," he said, pointing to the way opposite that I was going to go. "And please, PLEASE, don't come near me. I still want your blood. I'm trying to control myself, but it's not easy. I'll walk ahead of you, and lead you to your house before my control cracks. Then I'll leave."
I backed up some more, scared of him. "Ok. Start walking."