'My neighbour is a vampire.'
I never thought that I’d be sitting here, in my dimly lit living room, coming to this absurd conclusion as I sipped on my third glass of wine, but the evidence was pretty damning.
1- He never went out during the day.
For as long as he had been my neighbour, I have never once seen him step foot outside of his apartment while it was still light outside. His nightlife, however, was very lively.
Which brought me to my second point.
2- None of the many guests who stumbled their way inside his apartment in the early hours of the morning were ever seen leaving.
Throughout the three months he had lived here, in this highly secured, state-of-the-art high rise in New York, not one single bombshell blonde was seen making their way out of the building. That was his type, I assumed. Tall, lean, bubbly blondes who giggled their way into his house but never giggled their way out.
3- He never ate or drank anything.
Now, this point of evidence certainly needed more data, as I had never been inside the handsome stranger’s apartment before. But days after he had moved in, I wanted to welcome him into the building, so I baked him some delicious chocolate chip cookies. I had knocked on his door at around 11 a.m. and waited ages, but he had never come to the door. I had left the cookies at his doorstep, and that was where they had remained for three days. Back then, I simply thought he was rude and arrogant, but as I watched him _in a very inquisitive and certainly non-creepy way_ for the next three months, I realized that wasn’t the case.
And finally, the final nail in the coffin of my very thought-out albeit slightly-wine- induced conclusion:
4- He did not exist.
As a cybersecurity architect tasked with ethically hacking the best and most secure organizations out there to vet their systems and enhance their protection measures, I pride myself on finding what others deem impossible to find. So when I was checking my mail one day and found an envelope that was addressed to my neighbour but somehow got mixed up with mine, I figured a little look into his life wouldn’t hurt. I was simply curious. He was gorgeous, kept to himself, and was rarely seen around the neighbourhood. My decision at the time was not ethical by any means, I must admit, because it wasn’t an innocent Google search or a brief Instagram stalking. However, my moral dilemma came to an end rather quickly that day because by all means and measures, Lucien Ashborn did not exist.
So there I was, still sipping my wine, watching the clouds clear and reveal a bright, full moon in the night sky, and contemplating the fact that my handsome, aloof neighbour was a vampire.
Maybe I should call it a night.
YOU ARE READING
Fated
Fantasy"Lucien kissed me as if he was starving, as if he was desperate, as if he was a sinner, and my lips held the keys to his salvation. His hands snaked under his coat, exploring my body like he was on a mission, like my skin had the answer to all of hi...
