So the Goth girl stood at the bar with hair the colour
of blood isn't interested. So what? Am
I bothered? You bet! She's gorgeous.
I'm in two minds whether
to wander back over to her and try my hand again. But did you hear what she said
to me though? 'I'm not into vampires.'
This is because I told her
I was a vampire, I was upfront about it. I'm not often this way, but as I've
said, she was such a gorgeous specimen that I thought it may impress her.
I couldn't have been more
wrong, could I?
She thinks I'm part of a
movement or cult, like in the States. She thinks I'm a vampire, like she's a
Goth. She was laughing at me, and her with her hair the colour of blood and wearing
giant earrings that Bet Gilroy (a character that used to be in Corrie) would
be jealous of.
What a dickhead she is (but
a gorgeous one nevertheless!)
Yes she is beautiful - but
those earrings, yeuk! Talk about bad taste.
They make her look like a drag queen. If it weren't for those she'd be
the queen of cool. I wish she'd take the bloody things off (but not half as much
as I wish she'd take her clothes off with me later!)
But how dare she laugh
at me; how dare she look down on me.
I'll show her. I'm going to tear her neck open (not just bite - tear.)
She'll be sorry. I'm going to follow her when she leaves. She'll leave alone
(those earrings are enough to put any self-respecting girl off - let's hope she doesn't in the meantime, meet a tasteless girl.)
She's got great tits too,
really buxom. Dammit!
Fuck, why couldn't she interested? Why couldn't she be interested, and why couldn't she lose those bloody earrings!
They're like two bloody chandeliers hanging from her earlobes.
She's looking fed up now,
no one's approaching her. The girl's looking at her watch. Now she's looking around, when she looks at me I make like I haven't been watching her, but when I turn
back towards her, she's still looking in my direction and gives me another of her superior looks. Talk about, if looks could kill! I respond by pulling my tongue
out at her, she just ignores me, turns back to her drink and downs the rest of it.
She's leaving; yes she's
leaving the bar and walking over to the door. I'll let her walk out, then I'll
go in pursuit. I leave my own drink unfinished, the glass almost full - after all it's not gin I'm interested in drinking
tonight, it's that bitch's blood!
She fails to get a cab, misses the next one in the
rank and decides to walk. I follow at a discrete distance, hanging back as much
as possible - without losing track of her, but being very careful I wouldn't be seen if she were to glance backwards. Luckily she doesn't.
I'm getting thirstier by
the minute. There's a burning hunger inside me.
I feel like my belly is being eaten away by acid, such is the hunger. I
haven't fed for what seems like an age. In fact it's been so long I've forgotten
what the old red tastes like.
Still, not long before I
open her jugular and her fresh warm blood gushes over my tongue and down my throat.
Mmm, I can almost taste it now. Delicious fucking lifeblood! I can feel my fangs beginning to grow inside my mouth. This
is supernature telling me that feeding time is fast approaching. I hope I don't
lose the bitch. It isn't going to be half as satisfying if I have to drink someone
else's blood, and that's what I'll have to do if she gives me the slip.
She turns up an entry. I quicken my pace.
I pursue her up
the alley she's entered; it's quite dark. What a stupid fucking cow, doesn't
she know how dangerous it is for a women to walk down a badly lit alley at this time of night?
There could be all kinds of maniacs, psychos, (and vampires!) about. I
am getting quite close to her and she hears my footsteps behind her.
She spins round to face me,
fearful at first, as to who it is, but then when she sees that it's me, her expression changes to one of mocking again.
'Oh,' she says, 'the
Desperately hungry now, I
bare my fangs. She stares at them and shakes her head. 'You really are a joke aren't you,' she says.
'A joke?' I say, allowing
myself a smile. Now it was my turn to laugh at her.
'There's no such thing as
vampires, you stupid halfwit,' she says to me, like she's talking to a child.
'And yet,' I say, smugly,
'in a few moments I'm going to sink my long pointed teeth into your neck, and drain you of every last drop of blood in
She laughs at me again.
I've had enough of this;
enough of her and her mocking. Now I'm going to show her. Now she'll be sorry. In a sudden movement, I grab her and
push her up against the wall of the alley, and wasting no time, bite deep into her neck.
She cries out and she struggles, but I keep her fixed in position as I draw the blood from her body.
'Get off me you lunatic!'
I'm not listening; I'm enjoying
her blood as I siphon it into my hungry belly. It was fucking good I can tell
you! It always tastes better after a long wait, as does everything else in life (or death!)
When I've finished I let
her slide down the wall to my feet, then step back. She opens her eyes momentarily
and smiles up at me. 'You're a fucking vampire,' she says, and then passes away.
'Ain't you the bright one,'
I say to her now lifeless corpse, before wiping the blood from my mouth with the back of my hand and then strolling off into
Amy Cartwright, 2003