um... I haven't totally decided yet. I just started writing it. It involves vampires, werewolves, ghosts, maybe even some elves or something. No clue yet.
White snowflakes drifted lazily onto the scene. The frozen earth was already blanketed in the soft snow. The sky, though it was well past midnight, shown a pale grayish, almost purple color. It was strange. She had seen this many times before, but it remained a mystery to her; the sky should be as black as her eyes. She pondered at the persistent question. Actually, she already had the answer to it, but it was nevertheless enchanting. She pushed it to the back of her mind; she would save it for later when she didn’t need her mind here and alert.
The woman, with dark luxurious curls and a body to die for, walked further down the middle of the road. Being as late as it was, not to mention the awful weather, no one dared risk the slick roads tonight. This is good, she thought. Her flawless pink lips curved up into an unforgiving smile. All along the road, only one house remained with a light on. A balding man in his forties stood in his front door yelling at her to get out of the street or he would call the cops.
“Damn kids,” he muttered. She was not meant to hear his words, but her sharp sense of hearing caught it anyway. The street lights were dim, so of course, this man could not see her fully, well. Her evil smile remained in place as she stepped toward the open door. She arched a perfect eyebrow. She could start to smell his fear now. This was good, too. There was nothing more pleasurable than a scared soul to refresh you—the adrenalin in the blood made it sweeter and more irresistible, if that was even possible.
Each step filled with sickening grace, she walked purposefully up the steps of his porch. “My, my; this is a mighty lovely home you have here. Would you give me the honor, and invite me in?” Her voice was lethal and seductive, as she had meant for it to be. The old man gulped audibly, trying to swallow the evident lump in his throat. His lips parted to speak, but no sound came out. She was growing impatient with him.
Each moment the dry ache in her veins burned harder, searing her insides. She felt as if she would crumple in upon herself in any moment; she had let herself go far too long without feeding properly. But her face was carefully composed, straining to keep the mask on.
The man swallowed again, and she could wait no longer. Instead of waiting to be invited in to feed in privacy, she grabbed the man viciously, snapping his head back to expose the soft skin of his throat. His body lay limp in her strong and pale arms, and she drank deeply. Strength returned to her malnourished body, and she clutched him closer, sinking her teeth in a little bit more; she had to get every last drop out. She needed the life more than he did—it wasn’t as if he had anything worthwhile to do with his time. But she… she had everything riding on one moment, a moment not so far off in the near future.
She took one last drink from the man, and he was drained completely. She let him drop to the wooden snow covered planks of the porch; he slumped over into sickeningly unnatural position. If she wasn’t accustomed to this view, if she hadn’t trained herself to shut it out, she could have vomited right there. But she had trained herself.
She placed one finger on the wound in the neck, and almost instantly, it had healed completely. No one would be able to tell a vampire had been there, unless you knew what exactly to look for. Only two very, very tiny holes marked his body, and she was sure that the human eyes would miss it—they always missed it. Humans were so painstakingly oblivious.