The bite wasn’t what I expected. A gentle wispy kiss just below the beard line, whispering honey-laced allurements in my ear. Languor took hold of me and warmth filled my body and before long I passed into darkness. It wasn’t the terror and pain that stories tell but gentleness and quittance.
There was plenty of scalding, piercing pain like being impaled by a thousand searing pikes. The pain came when I awoke from death. After pain came gelidity and nihility, a void in my being. A gnawing urge deep within to fill the void. A hunger for succulent satisfying blood.
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