A tale of creatures of the night

Her breath came in ragged gasps as she pounded through the undergrowth. Her chest burned with anxiety as she heard it closing in on her.

Suddenly she fell into nothingness, falling, grasping at passing roots frantically and then she stopped. Mid air. A frosty breath whispered across her and she screamed with realisation and then fell silent. The only sound was the blood trickling from her wound, the only sight was the moonlight glinting on blood drenched fangs.

* * * * * * * * * * *

She even brought the body with her, well the remnants of what might have been considered human. Savage was her method. Starvation drove her to it I realised. For weeks she had rejected my teaching. Refusing to feast on what she once had been. But now the thrill of the kill was in her. Her ranting enthusiasm excited me none. I already knew the excitement your first brought you. How it flowed through your veins as your blood had once done. I also knew that it didn’t last long and soon you needed to feed again. Once you have started the only thing that can stop is your death. Which for the undead means there is no end.

Still she was stronger than I. Starvation had broken her not cowardice. But still I despised her for relenting. I know instead I should pity her, but her eagerness disgusted me. Then I remembered my own, my first. I however unlike her realised that after my first there would be no last.

It was long ago now it seemed but compared to the lifespan of my kind it was nothing. A short meaningless period of nothing but emptiness and murder. I was nineteen when the darkness swallowed me. Just a lad and though I still appeared the same countless years were upon me. Yet that night seems the only remaining memory I have of life. The one I would most like to forget.

I had just finished helping my father take the ale down to the cellar. I was weary and was heading home when she sprung from the shadows cornering me. I was uncertain in the behaviour of females but even I knew it was extremely uncommon for one of her class to be pouncing on the alemans son

. " O'Sullivan " she purred caressing me gently. I shivered at her touch but not from excitement. She was cold as cold as the bodies on the funeral carts.

" Yessum ma’am "

" I’m hungry " she growled

" Sorry ma’am the inn is closing now and there ain’t no food left...."

" Fool " she scowled " don’t you realise what I am " she paused " oh well you will realise soon enough " she then lowered her head and thrust herself upon me. I didn’t resist her advances then her lips touched my neck and someone yelled.

" Leave the boy " and Eldrith the supposed village witch leapt upon her with war cries. But Constance was too quick for and stepped aside. The two women faced each other. One tall haughty and proud the other small stout but the same hatred burned in their eyes.

" Witch " spat Constance,

" I usually prefer the term Wiccan but when it comes from the spawn of Satan any name will sound foul " returned Eldrith.

Constance grabbed my throat then rose from the floor.