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Image by Ján Jakub Naništa

In the dead of night walking through the house, nothing else is stirring, not even a mouse. Pulses pumping and hearts thumping like comforting drumbeats. The scent of warm flesh and living bodies makes her feel alive. Anticipation rushes through her veins faster than blood. The house is old, older than her. Floorboards creak as light from the street streaks through the window halfway up the stairs. She cricks her neck and smiles. Inside a bedroom, someone begins snoring. She glances out at the early morning light and knows she must hurry. She laughs at the thought of the invitation extended only yesterday to the friendly new neighbour. Myths and legends hide the truth of her kind but some things cannot be hidden and are easy to find. Slinking along the landing she gently pushes open a bedroom door. The young male sleeping is lean and strong. She stands by his bedside watching him breathe. Sharp teeth and the scent of blood feel like everything that is good about her existence. She bites hard into his neck.

(C) 2017 Liah S Thorley, all rights reserved                                             

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