The Vampire Memoirs - chapter II

The Vampire Memoirs - II

Sang

To be drunk from by a vampire is an experience hard to express in mere words.

The petrifying fear. Gripping the heart like an iron fist. The morbid ecstasy of dying. Soothing and exciting. Coalesced into one with the disturbing noises of the kill. The numbing pain of the vampire’s fangs. Biting deep into my flesh. The vile suck of his lips on my neck. The dizzying feeling of blood being drawn from my veins. Accompanied by constant tattoo of my beating heart in my chest. At first. A wild and quick reel. Then slowed. A quiet and distant death march. Timed to perfection with my shallow breaths.

The vampire moaned with delight. I leant heavily into his marble chest. My feet brushing the damp ground as we rose. Higher and higher. Above the clearing and higher still. The vampire still clutching me passionately in his icy embrace. The damp branches of the trees. Stroking my face like a thousand wooden fingers as we passed. The horse below. In a pool of red. Dead. My eyelids closed. One final breath. A tranquil sigh. I surrendered completely. To the vampire.