Dusk
Kitchener Leslie
Blood (noun):
1: a: the fluid that circulates in the heart, arteries, capillaries, and veins of a vertebrate animal carrying nourishment and oxygen to and bringing away waste products from all parts of the body
b : a fluid resembling blood
A cool breeze swept through the open window, rustling the long blackened coat of the large silhouetted figure framed in soft moonlight. The black form grew bigger, swaying shadows enveloping the girls bed as she slept. Moving in strangely fluid, staggered steps, the man reached the edge of the bed and leaned down. The girl awoke with a start at the feeling of weight shifting onto the bed, her eyes flying open as a pale face, misshapen and sickly, sprung from night. A pained gasp caught in her chest as glistening fangs plunged into her soft neck. Blood gushed over the creature's cold lips, his throat convulsing eagerly. Head reeling, a scream finally broke, her arms flailing at the intruder only to be caught and tightly grasped by crooked, boney hands. Energy steadily pulsing from her body with each thudding heartbeat, she let out one final cry for help before losing consciousness.
"Bella?" whispered a young man, voice distressed as he cautiously climbed through the window, stepping gently to the floor.
"Bella, I heard you, I came as fast as I could".
Swiftly crossing the room he approached the bed, only feet away when he caught moonlight glinting off the blood pooling around the young girls neck, staining the soft brown hair which spilled over her pillow. Gasping he lunged to his knees, grabbing her hand and urgently pleading for her to speak. A subtle movement stirred her body, her fingers twitched against his. Her voice came, meek and barely audible.
"Edward?"
A voice behind them rippled with a slow, deep laugh. Growing louder and more venomously joyful as the young man spun around. The black cloaked monster towered beside the window for a moment before moving into the dim light. Lips twisted in a slight smile, revealing front teeth which were pointed into the razor-sharp fangs of a bat.
"Hello." The man greeted them in a quiet, rasping voice. First staring at Edward then glancing down at the dazed and bloodied girl. Edward stood there, limbs ridged, staring in a trance, unable to move as the man spoke.
"I thought you'd come." The man grinned once more.
Blinking hard and gasping, Edward struggled to break free of the haze clouding his mind. Finally, his leg eased from it's invisible grasp. Then the other leg, then his body. As if slowly pulling itself from thick mud. Breaking free he lunged at the man in a fit of rage. He suddenly found himself stopped once again, stuck in the haze and the slime as the beast's long, spindly fingers wrapped tightly around his throat, their dirty, sharp nails digging into his skin.
"I should have come here long ago." He calmly seethed through jagged teeth, pacing his words with careful meter.
"For too long I have ignored your kind and their petty insolence. I have ignored you out of convenience, thinking you'd disappear on your own. But I have grown weary of waiting for an end to your laughable existence. Your kind is an abomination to the True. The bastard children of the night. It is time to purify the race.
"Who, are you?" The young man coughed in a choking breath.
The monster tilted back his head and let out a sputtering chuckle.
"You know exactly who I am. Your kind has mocked my name for centuries. I've found it rather... Insulting."
A greater look of terror filled Edwards eyes as he desperately struggled for breath, the air pressing thicker and heavier around his body and seeping into his mind. Behind him Bella's eyelids started to slide shut, her mind swimming from blood loss.
"Bella," he choked and sputtered, "Bella, I want you to know I'll alw..."
The fingers wrenched shut, blood beginning to flow down his neck.
"No more sonnets." The man gently hissed. Suddenly lurching his grotesque head and burying his fangs into the young man's jugular, blood splashing over his chin, spattering onto his cloaks. Edwards body convulsed as the vampire drank, gulp after gulp, fingers tightening even still, until his blood stained mouth drew away, along with his hand and the young vampires throat as the body crumpled to the floor.
Panting, Nosferatu stood in the cool, still night, licking his soaking crimson lips in the flickering firelight of the combusting house. In the distance something like a wolf howled. He smiled. There was much to be done tonight.
Much to be done.