bloodlust.

Vulnerable mice scattered the floor. A distinct smell of mutton searched its way around barrels to the dark figure stooped in the corner; it stood, motionless. Faint voices littered the air from the tavern above like moths among light. The figure took no heed to dispel these vivid interactions. It was as though its mind was transfixed on one thing: that thing was in this very cellar; unawares, unprepared for the Hell that it was about to experience.

The figure suddenly jerked forwards, lunging into a tightly arranged formation of barrels. Gallons of stomach-churning ale submerged the surrounding slate floor. From these barrels the dark figure rose, clutching the fair hair of a young man. You could see the figure more prominently now due to the diminutive rays of effervescent light trickling in from a crack in the floorboards above.

The figure looked roughly six feet tall, with a lithe but subtley powerful figure. Her arms looked fairly relaxed but the strain present in her veins said otherwise. Her long black hair flowed elegantly to her waist and looked dimmed over age, even though her features made her look no older than twenty. Her pallid skin coincided with the dull slate to look an almost ghostly white. Something small but distinguishing pierced the darkness around them. It was, I think, her eyes. They looked perfectly normal at a glance, until the startling difference made you shiver in places unknown, they were slightly dilated but… had a deep scarlet iris.

Steadily she rose from a knelt position; unusual under such strain from the writhing man. She took the presumed adolescent by his dust-matted hair and stood patiently in the chilling silence. Without looking, she slowly tilted the victims head to one side. He was bleeding; his neck crimson, trickling thick blood down on to his regal garments from two puncture marks. The man lost focus as the blood left his body. They were one flesh. One blood. This ritual, scribed into the ancient books of the world was known as the Dark Kiss – performed by the seductive race of the vampires. This bloodlust seemed to both excite and horrify the young blood as he slowly succumbed to a half-life. He was reborn. Never to be the same. Never to be free.