 |
   
    |
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
She watches and waits among the shadows as the night lingers and sweet jasmine dances on the air, taunting the innocence of the evening. Her gaze lingers on the one and her crimson lips slowly curve into a smile. Her eyes, the color of saffires, shine like balls of glass. She will use her creamy china doll skin of centuries old to seduce, robbing him of life as he takes his last breath so, she can continue her own existence.
Listening to her soft voice calling, the man stood and left the table of
his friends and walked into the humid night. He entered the thick
jungle and slowly ascended the stairs of the structure. He didn’t
hear the nocturnal voices crying out, warning of danger. They were
whispers in the night.
She crouches over him, clad in a black cloak, a mere shadow in the night
no longer affected by temperature. She was driven by instincts and
he was her prey as he lay there on the cold limestone steps of the acropolis,
his body becoming numb. Her slim form offered him no warmth, only
coldness. He stared up and the blue sky seemed liquid as the stars
turned into ghostly ancestors that danced around laughing as they seduced
his mind.
Her lips were on his throat, drinking the warmth from his body as she slowly
took his soul. At that very moment, he could feel the last drop of
warmth and life exit his body. Now he was nothing more than a shell
of something that had once been human and he welcomed death with outstretched
arms. He eagerly took the offered arm and drank. She took him
there, claiming him, making him one of her kind.
Previously
Featured Short Story
Writing Articles Rejected!
Submissions
Copyrights Book
StoreNew
Things Home
Links and Rings View
Guest Book
E-mailCopyright 1998, 1999 Antoinette Swanson all rights reserved