“Go.
Feed.” Keeley gave
Miranda a
gentle nudge down the darkened alley. Stumbling forward several feet
before
collapsing near a dumpster, hunger ate away at her like acid on
precious metal,
her throat and mouth as dry as the rustling fall oak leaves.
Shuffling
sounds signaled
someone
approaching from the far end of the alleyway. A vagrant. Maybe a
drunken
college student. Fear bubbled up inside to mingle and churn with the
hunger
already tearing away at her. Then Keeley’s words echoed in Miranda’s
head: The
only thing in this alley more dangerous than you is me. Calming
somewhat, she
huddled into herself, too weak from pain and hunger to do more.
The
stranger continued
approaching.
Miranda could smell him now. Knew him to be a drunken vagrant by his
smell.
What’s more, she could feel him,
sense his breathing, feel his heartbeat, as he advanced upon her. Smell
the
lust beneath his curiosity.
“You ok,
girl? Do you need
some
help?” His questions dancingly grated upon her nerves, distracting from
the
delicious sound of the living blood pulsing through his veins. Her
insides
wrenched into a tortured knot, forcing a cry from her parched lips.
The
stranger reached out,
gently brushing
the hair back from the side of her face. “Let’s git somewhere warmer…” Maybe
warm each other a bit. She saw the
unfinished thought play across his face, nearly as obvious as the
spoken word. Inside,
Miranda struggled with her emotions. Her hunger. Her rapidly departing
humanity.
She looked
up then, into
his rich
brown eyes. “No., she gasped, eyes resting finally upon his throat,
almost in a
caress. “I need…you.” Her arms came up to encircle him, parody of a
lovers’
embrace as the vagrant chuckled over his unexpected fortune. Suddenly, Miranda’s sharp teeth pierced flesh,
at first missing their mark. She held him firmly during the shocked
struggle,
hunger making her strong. Finally….the vein.
Like good
hard liquor, his
blood
burned her throat and belly, spreading to warm her veins. Slowly the
pain eased
away, replaced by a languid fullness underscored with pleasure matched
only by
Keeley’s embrace.
Miranda
drank until her
belly was
full and the fire from his lifeblood filled her veins. Then Keeley was
there,
pulling her back from the fading beat that had recently pounded so
loudly. His
arm about her shoulders, pulling her close, the two of them walked off
in the
night.
For the
moment, she was
content.
This
page composed and copywrited by: Melinda
M. Fulk, January 2005. Comments?
Email me!
Last
revised and updated, 30 May 2005.