Ah, the first day of school. A wondrous time of getting ass-lost in the winding halls of a new building. At least it was her last year. Cecilia sighed and shuffled off to her first class of the day: PE.

Thankfully when she got there, the teacher - a young man that could pass as a very ugly woman- told her that today was just taking roll and making sure everyone had shown up. Cissy thanked him and sat down on the bleachers, pulling a spiral bound notebook out of her backpack. A pencil was jammed into the metal spring, and it didn't come out without a fight. The seventeen year old started sketching.

The strange man had filled her thoughts lately. Not a night passed where she didn't dream of him standing over her, watching her sleep. It was disconcerting the way he looked at her, or didn't, rather. It was like she was just a meal to him, like he couldn't wait to devour her very soul.

"Hey, cool drawing,"

The sudden interruption of her thoughts made her jump. Sitting next to her was a guy, about her age, with a half-shaved head of red hair.

"Name's Byron. How 'bout you?" He stuck out his pale, freckled hand.

"Cecilia, or Cissy. Just make eye contact, say something, and I'll know you're talking to me," she shook his hand.

"Coolio. Whatcha drawin'?"

"Oh, nothing just- hey is that Jeff the Killer on your shirt?"

"You're a fan of Scary Spaghetties?"

"And Terrifying Tortellini,"

The teens laughed at their own cleverness. They spent the rest of the period discussing their favorite creepypastas, and the worst and funniest ones they'd ever read.

All the while, they did not pay attention to the shifting drawings on the paper. What was once stick figures and disproportionate sketches became lifelike drawings of a very sinister figure.

The bell rang, causing both Cissy and Byron to jump up and knock their backpacks onto the floor, spilling out the contents. In their haste to gather the notebooks and pencils and folders, neither noticed that one left with one book too many, and one left with one book too little.

A very ancient being watched the exchange between his prey and another mortal. He had a strong dislike for others meddling in his affairs. He watched the boy and girl interact very closely. It seemed that the boy was attracted to his meal.

Bughuul didn't like sharing, and decided to make that known. It was an unforeseen but fortunate stroke of fate that the boy, Byron, took the notebook containing his image. Now all he had to do was wait.

Cissy arrived home from school early. She wasn't feeling well, so they let her walk the ten minutes home. She supposed that was the beauty of small town America. She wouldn't dare walk alone in her old neighborhood. The door opened with a creak and the girl locked it behind her. Amelia and Dad were at work. Brook was at school. The house was empty, save for her.

Time to dance.

All she needed to do was change, grab the old boombox and head up to the attic. That was accomplished simply enough. The wooden floors would make dancing difficult, but not impossible. She pressed play, and let the music take her over. It was just a warm up track, started out slow, and built up in speed and intensity. It was entirely contemporary dancing; Cecilia liked to challenge herself. She absorbed herself in her dancing, so much that she did not notice that the projector turned itself on.

Finally, the song ended, leaving her sweating and out of breath. A cold light from her left caught her attention. An image of the man from the Pool Party video was projected on the screen.

"What the hell?"

The man tilted his head.

Cissy jumped, then laughed at herself. Must be a coincidence. She stepped over to the projector and was about to turn it off, until she realized that there was no film in it. So, she knocked the projector over. Grinning triumphantly, she looked at the faded yellow sheet hanging from the rafter. The image of the man was still on it, head still tilted curiously at her.

This wasn't happening.

Anger filled her for reasons she didn't understand. She marched up to the screen and reached for the top so she could tear it down. Freezing hands caught her forearms. Her eyes went wide as she looked at the man in the image. From the wrist down, his hands were outside of the image, in the real world. That was impossible. She was hallucinating. She had hit her head and she was dreaming. A gentle tug on her arms confirmed that this was reality. She looked up at where his eyes should have been.

He 'stared' at her, 'gaze' unflinching. He tugged on her arms again, as if to say, 'Well? Aren't you coming? I don't have all day.'

Cissy planned on ripping her arms away from him and tearing down the screen, but just as she started to put force behind that motion, he let go. She fell onto her back. After the initial pain subsided, she started scrambling away on her back, until she was pressed against the far wall.

The man stepped out of the image.

'That's not possible.'

He took a step toward her. He walked like a king.

'This can't be happening.'

Paralyzed by fear as she was, Cecilia found herself standing, sliding up along the wall.

He was only a few steps away.

Cecilia gulped. He was directly in front of her, towering over the diminutive teen. She had always thought she would be ready for the day she confronted the supernatural. She thought that she would never be frozen in place by sheer terror, that she would run, that she would fight.

But she couldn't move. She couldn't fight back as the icy hands cupped her jaw, sending cold shocks down her neck. She couldn't protest as his face neared hers. Couldn't find the strength to lift her arms when he paused, as if to prolong her torture. And she couldn't think when sandpaper-like skin pressed against her lips. She wanted to scream, to shove him and to run. But she was tired. She was limp. She was asleep.

He let her slide to the floor at his feet. He had only tasted her soul, and what a wonderful taste it was. Not entirely pure and innocent as a child's, not corrupted and bland as an adult's. It was an entirely new sensation, a flavor unique only to her.

And he wanted more.

AN: After eating peanut butter all your life, sometimes you want a little jelly.

That sounded wrong.

And stupid.