It was five minutes to midnight in England; pitch black and incredibly quiet. Even the usual noisy frogs in the pond had gone still. Not one of the many rodents and animals that inhabited the hedgerows dared to move and make a sound, for a great evil was upon them. A great evil that took the form of a lonely figure crouched in the long grass in a huge field behind a big, old, rich house. Waiting. Waiting for something that no one in the world know was going to happen.
Damon Salvatore was one of those people you'd want to stay clear of as he'd always look up to something. Something bad. His eyes were as black as his ebony hair, he was also clad in black, with a leather jacket, jumper and jeans. He wore big leather boots but they made no sound as he shifted slightly from his position. He was crouched, low to the ground in a perfect pouncing stance. He was the perfect hunter. The perfect killer. And tonight, he needed someone to kill. He kept to his own rules, though, he had to wait until midnight to make his move.
Damon looked up, from where he was crouching, at the open attic window. His dark eyes glinted with crimson and his thin lips curled into an even darker smile.
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