. I do in fact own this story and all original characters that I decide to throw in here, just so you know.Light from the Darkness
By Eden
Hear I sit in a downtown coffee shop at about eleven o’clock at night. No one around me is worried or nervous. Why should they be? This is New York after all, what abnormal things happen hear except maybe for an un-explained homicide. None of them are at all conspicuous of the tall girl with pale skin and long blond hair. She’s just another New Yorker stopping for a few minuets to get out of the rain.
How little they really know about me.
Sure, I look normal to them, with my Walkman pumping rap music into my ears, and my slightly tight jeans with the rip in one knee. Even my black T-shirt under my leather jacket isn’t at all out of the ordinary.
All right, if someone were to look close enough, they would notice my face is pale, but that’s because of my blond hair and unusual violet eyes. I don’t open my mouth wide enough for anyone to see the abnormally long canine teeth I have which are commonly referred to as fangs. The only time any mortal sees them is when they aren’t going to live long enough to tell about it.
I think you’ve got the clue. You’re right too. I am a vampire. Even after six hundred years it sends a certain chill up my spine to utter or hear that word. Vampire.
In my opinion, if there ever were a romantic demon, the vampire would be it. Think about it, to be gently seduced by the mind of a powerful demon, which needed only your blood to stay immortal. To be put into a trance as the life was slowly, carefully drained from your beating organs that screamed to live. Surly it would be frightening at first, but as you slowly went unconscious, warmth would spread over your limbs like a soft blanket, welcoming death, as death herself took you away.
How poetic, death that is. I don’t think of myself as being a morbid vampire, but after killing so many, it’s not surprising to think like this, feel like this.
How interesting killing is. It’s not my favorite thing to do, but it has a certain excitement that you just can’t match by doing anything else. The adventure of the chase. Pounding feet and hearts is like music to a hungry vampire. The satisfaction, the thrill of capturing a victim, human or not, comes only once the sweet nectar-like blood has been drained from their searing body, and they take there last breath looking up to the sky from my powerful arms.
New York, the city that never sleeps, we have a lot in common, this city and I. I don’t sleep either. I do rest, but not enough to call it sleep. I need only a minimal amount of rest to stay strong, alert, and ready for anything.
The rain stops and I leave my table at the cafe. As I walk along the wet sidewalks filled with bums without jobs and hookers with to much make-up on, I let my mind out to scan the streets for others of my kind. I can find another vampire in a huge stadium as easily as in a crowed room.
I don’t always like running into others like me. They’re not always friendly, and I like to be on the offensive rather than the defensive.
Not finding anything or anyone, I relax. It’s now safe to find a victim. I haven’t eaten anything all night, and I can feel the burning in my chest that comes with the need for blood. Sometimes I can go for days without having any. But I’m in a wreak less mood.
Turning into a park, I look for the right person, someone who has committed crimes themselves. By killing this way it relives some of the guilt that comes from night after night of heartless slaughter.
I’ve found the person I want, seated on one of the park benches. As I scan his mind I discover he killed his wife for insurance money. I hate other killers, especially if they’re human mainly because humans don’t need to kill for survival. This one’s tall, nearly six feet of blond hair and bronzed muscles.
He looks up from the newspaper he’s reading as I walk past him and settle down on the bench beside him. In the light from the lamppost beside me I can make out a quick flash of white as he smiles. Playing along, I shyly smile back.
“Don’t you know it’s not safe to be out all alone at night?” The man asks me, putting his paper in the garbage beside him.
“Maybe,” I reply, “But I’m not alone anymore am I?” I gestured towards him.
“I suppose not.” He smiled again.
I watched him as he moved his left hand to his pocket, and took hold of the knife he had there.
“What do you say I take you somewhere; somewhere where no one will be able to hurt you?” He asked, keeping his hand inside his pocket; still clutching the knife.
“I don’t know,” I said acting dense. “How do I know that you’re not going to hurt me?”
He smiled thinly, “I guess you don’t, but will you trust me anyways?”
Even if I couldn’t read his mind I’d be able to see through this guys fa?ade. Everything he said and did hinted towards what he wanted to do once he got me out of the lamplight; but still I played along.
“Why not?” I stood up. “You look like a nice man.” I gave him a teasing little smile, being careful not to reveal my teeth.
He fell for it.
“Come on then,” He said standing up.
I followed behind him as he started walking. Just as I thought, he was going to lead me into the trees. I stopped walking abruptly, “Why are we going this way? Anything or anyone could be hiding in those trees.”
The man turned around towards me. “It’s a short cut.” He extended his hand, “Just take my hand, nothing in the woods is going to get you.”
I allowed him to take me by the hand and lead me into the trees, out of sight of other people walking through the park. I could’ve killed him already, but then I would’ve put myself in danger of being noticed by someone. Because I can’t risk that, I stay and continue with my charade.
Once we were deep inside the thicket of trees, his grip on my hand got tighter, and then we stopped walking. I wasn’t surprised when he whipped his free hand out of his pocket and put his knife to my throat.
“You’re a bad judge of character.” His voice got husky, “Don’t scream and I won’t slit your neck.”
“You won’t have to worry about me,” I smiled at him, “But can I say the same for you?”
A puzzled look came over his face, “What are you talking about?” Then he grew tough again, “Stop being smart.”
With uncanny speed, my free hand came up, grabbed the knife from his hand and tossed it in the bushes. Before he could utter a sound of protest, I brought my hand up again with the same speed and broke his wrist.
He yelped with pain and tried to pull his unbroken hand away from me, hut I held onto him with an iron grip. He wasn’t going anywhere.
“Your not trying to leave me all alone, are you?” I asked innocently, continuing with the act.
Now I brought my free arm up to catch him around the waist, and drew his body closer to mine. He struggled to get away, thrashing aback and forth against me, too petrified to scream.
When he found his voice it was to ask me a question.
“Who are you?” He gasped, a clear shake in his voice.
My head tilted to the side, “Not who,” I corrected him, “But what.”
“W-w-what?” He stammered.
I opened my mouth wide, giving him a plain view of my delicately pointed teeth, then sneered, “Is an explanation necessary?” Before burring my face in his neck.
When my teeth pierced the skin of the artery, a spray of blood shot up into my mouth. I swallowed it eagerly, savoring the warm thick liquid.
I heard him gasp a few times as I drained him, but I paid him no heed.
After I’d sucked every last drop of blood that I could out of the puncture wounds, I dropped the blond man’s body to the ground. I was breathing heavily. As I looked down at him, I saw his eyes were still open. When I listened carefully, I could still hear a faint heart beat.
So he still lived.
I watched him as he mustered only enough strength to twist his face up in pain and mouth a single word, his last word: Please.
Pity made me do it.
Pity made me say, “I will show you mercy, and not allow you to die a slow death.”
I bent down and took his face in my hands. Finally, pity made me kiss his cheek lightly; like a lover might; before I violently wrenched his head to the side, listening as each and every one of the bones in his neck snapped.
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...Vampire stories like this may be a little bit of a cliche, but still the prologue seemed to attract my attention. So, keep writing!!!!!!! 
