The Heart's Tempo

Chapter 4 - The Vampiric Tale

A few hours of walking go by, with the skies bruising as seconds corral together, and so, in privy of this, they take respite in a haven of trees, under which a soft carpet of grass spreads itself, just begging to be lay on. But before they do, the old man finds himself telling them a faraway tale of an undead being. "The story goes as follows," he starts,

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I will bury your head in the waves that crash upon these here shores, and take a blade to your bare neck, cutting—literally—your life short.

I should laugh as your grasp on life is carried away by the billows, and your screams go unheard beneath their surface, drowned out—literally.

As I hold a flame to the threads that belay your sanity, and watch as you convulse before me, clawing at the sand with no other choice.

"And what of my body?" you may not ask. Well. It's simple. I shall take its flesh between my teeth, and feed—literally—the dark desires of my mind.

I am not a painter, but I can 'draw' upon the darker strokes of the canvas of man, each of your screams a speckle that sullies its artistry.

The scent of your blood dances upon my tongue, and tickles my nostrils, your heart calling to me with each thump. Every. Single. Beat.

Ohhh...don't be shocked, darling. How could you expect anything less from a vampire?

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Then, their eyes are eclipsed by the closing lids, and their wishes leap along lakes, astride the galloping whistles of wind, doing whatever it takes.