crowlover13

Before I saw her fragile body billowing in the wind, I remember what I lived for. That unbearable lust for blood that would drive me to the ends of the earth and back again, for even a taste of the crimson, brackish liquid. I remember the indescribable feeling of my ivory fangs hovering over the slender neck of another powerless victim; my body quivering in anticipation as little grazes of skin hooked behind my jagged white incisors, before I sink them into the heated flesh of my prey. The taste of hot scarlet blood flowing into my eager mouth, caressing my thin frozen lips would arouse a violent exhilaration deep within my blackened heart.

I slid into the sticky leather seats of a yellow taxi, inhaling the musky smell of stale cigarettes and human sweat. The foreign driver looked at me for a long time, his eyes keen to observe my odd appearance. My pure white skin and cat like eyes are just two of the obvious abnormalities of a vampire. But then again for a late night taxi driver he must have seen it all. Gothic teenagers painting their faces and claming to be a vampire, a deadly angel of the night, was not uncommon. But that is not the life I live. I am a true vampire, one who depends on the blood of humans and has lived since the times when streets were lit with oil lamps and