literature

A Night's Whispers

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Literature Text

He came for me at night. I lay in my bed, trying desperately to fall asleep, but somehow it eluded me, just like it had for the last several nights. I tried so many different things; sleeping with socks on and off, turning the fan on, with shorts and with long pants. One night I was even so infuriated I went and threw a rock at the lamppost outside my window, shattering it to pieces! But it didn't matter, nothing helped.

I didn't realize at the time it was him keeping me up, with his gentle whispers outside my bedside window I couldn't hear but subconsciously knew were there.

No, I didn't realize until he came himself through my open window in the dead of night.

A cry escaped me before he softly put his finger over my lips and whispered, "Shh. I'm here now."

"But it's not possible!" I whispered back fiercely. "You're supposed to be dead!"

"But I am," he confirmed, spreading his arms wide. "You mustn't ask questions," he continued. "Trust me, love. "He crawled on the bed next to me and, before I could object, tenderly took my head in his hands. We gazed into each others eyes for minutes, though it felt like merely seconds. Then he caressed my throat with his thumb and whispered once more, in the quietest of voices, "Trust me." He moved slowly, as if not to scare me. But truth be told, I don't think I would have been scared of him if he had come into my room with a butcher's knife and started hacking away at my limbs.

Nevertheless, he did move slow, so slow, in fact, I wondered if he had changed his mind.

But then his mouth was at my neck and I could feel his teeth extending, becoming sharp, dangerous knives. He punctured the skin quickly, as not to cause me much pain. I almost yelped again but managed to hold it back to a whimper.

He drank for ages it seemed, each minutes more agonizing than the last. Not physically, though there was that sort of pain involved. No, mostly it was impatience. I yearned for him to be done, to see what his next move would be; kill me, or turn me?

Finally he drew away. My blood was flaking around his mouth. I didn't care. I only wanted one thing.

He smiled sadly. He knew what I was thinking, and I him. It's as if we were having a conversation with our eyes alone.

No, you will not like being like me.

No, I would not like it without you.

You would survive.

Nay, I would not.


Without a word, only a sigh, he gave me my one wish, and we ran off into the night.
I scribbled this out a few nights ago at like 4am after having a sudden burst of inspiration about a vampire coming into someone's room at night and stealing them away. It started out much more romantic and mysterious but changed kinda on its own it seemed.
© 2010 - 2024 glomdi
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DrMcQuark's avatar
Another great scene! Romantic and not a little bit erotic. :)