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She walks alone through the dark streets.



The nervous pattering of her feet quickens almost to a run, matching what will be the final beats of her fluttering heart.



A shadow cannot chase you, surely.



A shadow is simply the absence of light.



She knows her fear was irrational. That it is childish, foolish, to let the dark strike such a fear with her.



She's wrong.



A shadow is just a shadow, yes.



And it's true there was no shadow chasing her, there's something far, far worse.



As her footsteps quicken, the pursuer ups his pace and grew closer. She catches a scent of some rich, enticing fragrance and lets herself rest for a second.



A second is all it takes for a hand to wrap around her throat. A pair of soft and dominating lips to silence a scream, to surprise and distract her.



A distraction gives enough time for a pair of razor sharp fangs to slice open a full, red lip. To travel over to a pale, innocent white neck.



A second and a distraction is all it takes to kill.

COMMENTS

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XxNephthysxX
22:49 Oct 05 2008

Very true.

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