Vampires
Her fangs tore crimson holes in his neck
Through blood-slicked lips and crimson eyes, they called to her
Pale and drawn, he complained he needed to take “just a little” of my blood
The vampire moved slow and sensual, stalking her prey with delight
The coffin creaked and a shriveled, corpse-like hand appeared
Bats beat the air in a leathery lullaby as the vampire feasted on her soul
Her life drained out under his unholy kiss
She was even more beautiful in death than in life
The horrors of the grave were nothing to her now
A blood-red smile crossed his lips, revealing ivory fangs and endless hunger
The midnight thirst was upon him
The sweet nectar pulsed invitingly behind the blue veins of her throat
His throat grew parched at the sight of her pulsing neck
The thing shriveled under the wooden stake's relentless assault
Unable to enter, the creature paced and growled at the threshold
His fangs ached for her throat, to taste the soft flesh and warm blood
His fangs nipped playfully at her neck
His mouth throbbed with the urgent need of his fangs to feed
As soon as his fangs tapped her veins, he knew she was the one
She kissed him and felt his fangs prick her probing tongue
Her lips curled back in anger, revealing the razor-sharp canines she had kept hidden for so long
Sunlight burned him, made him a screaming bonfire that fled into the darkness below
And yet no bullet could harm him—only the stake, the sword, the sun
As he fed, the years tumbled away, restoring the vitality of youth
There was a cruelty about his eyes and the mouth that betrayed him for the bloodsucker he was
The blood-hunger made her quiver with anticipation
His fangs traced the delicate hollow of her neck
The dark juices of that ivory throat would soon be his to milk
The blood was hot and salty upon his tongue and he gulped greedily
He would have lived forever had he not fallen in love with her
The waxen face drew close, hooded eyes hypnotizing her
We were all reflected in the mirror except her
A deathly pallor crept over her as she drew the curtains against the dawn
A thin red rivulet ran down his neck from where her ruby lips had been
He visited her nightly until she was one of us no more, but undead like him
The veins in her neck sang to him like no other sound on earth
She drew close to him, unaware it was his will she do so
His crimson fangs flexed into her throat, drawing blood
The wooden stake pierced him, holding him prisoner in his coffin for the morning sun
The first gray light of dawn called him to the safety of his tomb
The man was sickly pale with a mouth sprouting fangs
His eyes burned with a feverish light as he sprang from the grave