I was recently viewing "Fright Night" part 2 ( which, script wise, bears remarkable resemblence to FN 1, same jokes and all...). Anyway, I was feeling so inspired that I wrote a little something. I know it sucks but here goes nothing....
WindSong
Sometimes, the wind seems like it is calling me. I cannot explain it. I’m not even sure that I want to. When it calls to me, I am usually home, alone; cuddled up with my boyfriend, Steve, who is sadly, oblivious to anything around him. That’s what the opium did for him─ made him oblivious.
As I was saying, let’s not detour from the subject at hand. The wind starts out low, subtle, something I can ignore. Then, of course, it blossoms, gets louder, starts howling, and that I cannot ignore. I want to, however. I want to pretend that someone else’s blood is not running through my veins; that I haven’t been out sucking the life out of just about any one. I want to pretend that I am just like Steve, and my other friends.
But when the wind blows over my skin through the open window, which Steve insists should be open. The wind caresses the downy hairs on my back, and turns my skin into one living breathing goose bump, I respond immediately. My eyes burns as if sand was kicked in them, flesh tingles with expectancy, mouth salivates with desire, with need. To bite, to be bitten to tear, to rip apart at the seams. My body burns with effort to control this need. I just fed two nights ago; I should not feel this way. My teeth grow insistently wanting to puncture something, preferably soft and vulnerable.
I look at Steve, his back towards me. His red “Irish” hair is sticking out at every angle. His white porcelain skin is riddled with reddish brown freckles especially down the back of his neck. Something snaps in my head and I dully ‘think what the hell’ not aware that I say it out loud. And the minute before Steve turns around flashing me his questioning look from sleep ridden eyes, I wrap my body around him tightly, fitting us close together and sink my teeth into the supple flesh between his neck and shoulder. I suck powerfully, ultimately calming the wind and its evil song.
Sometimes, the wind seems like it is calling me. I cannot explain it. I’m not even sure that I want to. When it calls to me, I am usually home, alone; cuddled up with my boyfriend, Steve, who is sadly, oblivious to anything around him. That’s what the opium did for him─ made him oblivious.
As I was saying, let’s not detour from the subject at hand. The wind starts out low, subtle, something I can ignore. Then, of course, it blossoms, gets louder, starts howling, and that I cannot ignore. I want to, however. I want to pretend that someone else’s blood is not running through my veins; that I haven’t been out sucking the life out of just about any one. I want to pretend that I am just like Steve, and my other friends.
But when the wind blows over my skin through the open window, which Steve insists should be open. The wind caresses the downy hairs on my back, and turns my skin into one living breathing goose bump, I respond immediately. My eyes burns as if sand was kicked in them, flesh tingles with expectancy, mouth salivates with desire, with need. To bite, to be bitten to tear, to rip apart at the seams. My body burns with effort to control this need. I just fed two nights ago; I should not feel this way. My teeth grow insistently wanting to puncture something, preferably soft and vulnerable.
I look at Steve, his back towards me. His red “Irish” hair is sticking out at every angle. His white porcelain skin is riddled with reddish brown freckles especially down the back of his neck. Something snaps in my head and I dully ‘think what the hell’ not aware that I say it out loud. And the minute before Steve turns around flashing me his questioning look from sleep ridden eyes, I wrap my body around him tightly, fitting us close together and sink my teeth into the supple flesh between his neck and shoulder. I suck powerfully, ultimately calming the wind and its evil song.
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