So, you know how there are versions of vampires? There's the Twilight version, classics, and the vampires from Van Helsing, the Marked series, Supernatural TV series, etc. Well, classics are corny, and I think someone ought to do them a little justice, perhaps with a little twist here and there. I probably won't get far with it, and probably won't use it in anything--probably--but I'm going to try to help create an image of what I think a true vampire ought to be.
A creature sits, nearly perfectly still, in the deepest shadows of a place. It waits in utter, eerie silence for prey to show it's face, with hardly a breath to move it. Its eyes flash, dimly, yet sharp somehow. Piercing. Unchanged human eyes wouldn't have caught such a subtle change, but another creature, the same, across a short way sees it, and knows that just a half a second after a young woman passes between them--then. Moving faster than lightning, the two creatures move just as silently to the woman, one gently placing a soft, cold hand on her shoulder. She stops dead in her tracks, all sounds of crunching leaves or snapping sticks ceasing with her. She forces herself to turn, each muscle bunching painfully as adrenaline shoots through her veins like sparks of electricity in a wire. Her eyes strain against themselves as they move faster than her head, and only get more sore when she pushes them farther, wanting to see the thing behind her, while her body shrieks to stay, or run. All she catches is a quiet flash of papery, pearly white skin, and dark, dark hair while the creature smiles, showing its long sharp teeth, venom dripping from the needle-fine tips and falling slowly down its chin, just like drool slips from a hungry dogs muzzle. It can feel the quickened thrumming of blood bursting through vessels, faster than hummingbird wing beats. The scent of adrenaline is gushing from the woman's lush, soft skin--a thick pheromone drifting out from her, and drawing the beast in, while it allows itself to pull closer and press its super sensitive nose close to the pulsing in her throat. The woman is frozen now, her whole body steel stiff, fear clutching at her stomach, pushing beads of sweat out across her forehead and temples--all over. The second evil creature lets its ice-cold hand slide down the woman's arm, while it, too, presses itself closer to her, feeling her heartbeat like a drum in her chest. The monster slows and stops its hand at her wrist, where it wraps its gentle fingers around her fragile arm, and pulls the warmth to its face, also enjoying the smell of fear in the woman. Finally, the fight reaction sparks in her, and she opens her mouth, drawing in a deep, filling breath to scream--but failing when a block of ice slaps over her mouth, and her struggles are absolutely useless against the impossible strength of the creatures on either side of her. Suddenly, with force, she can feel sharpness, piercing her neck and arm, breaking the skin and shooting forth a blazing pain--and both creatures press their teeth to the soft skin of their victim, feeling it part beneath their fangs, tasting the sweetness of her blood beginning to flow freely. Her struggles cause the blood to come more, spill faster, then... the feast begins.
The creatures become such hideous beasts, that neither can look on the other--both simply indulge in the taste of thick crimson liquid pouring down their throats, wasting only an occasional drop when some slips out to trickle down their wet chins, bloodying their commoners clothes. They allow themselves to breathe deeply, smelling, tasting, feeling, hearing her blood fill their mouths. She lets out a grunt, too weak to scream already, as the ripping pain tells her she's being drained. Her life force leaving her buckets at a time. The pain--the freezing, charring, crushing pain... It goes on, and on... but eventually, the woman's struggles weaken, and her life is forced to drain in stead of flowing freely. The beasts have to suck it out now, when her heart slows and her muscles lax, causing the fluids to stand static. The already dim lights are diminishing, fewer stars, a dimmer moon, and breath is more difficult now. She's dizzy, but the force of her heaving stomach is so weak, the fluids get caught in her throat, adding suffocation to her dying agony, burning her, setting her to a smolder. But the feeling leaves soon, and she's gone, the light that was once in her eyes missing now--but the demonic things sucking away the last drops of blood remain to cling to the pleasure, but feeling satisfied, they have a new gleam in their evil eyes. When she's empty, as white as they are, her hollow body hardly makes a sound as hits the ground, laying on it's final bed of wet leaves and stone. She lays, stilled, while the creatures stalk away to reenter their lair, underneath an ancient castle, close themselves into caskets and sleep away the day that harbors the blistering heat of the sun that they fear.
