Gracie sat curled up like a cat between the corners of roof between two windows, feeling her newly-sprouted canine over with her thumb. She was ten years old, just turned it 'bout a month ago. The little girl gave a small shiver, beginning to regret coming up here with nothing more than some shorts and a t-shirt.
"Bad girl."
Gracie brushed some messy pink hair off her face, nails nibbled off by habit rather than cut clean and neat.
It tingled and throbbed beneath her gums, ever since the day it grew in. It was just instinct, the instinct to bite, to soak, to drip. A small shiver ran down the child's spine, and she pulled her arm in closer to her body, feet planted firmly against the maroon shingles. She wasn't like other little girls, and Gracie knew it. She stared down at the late-Autumn scene a couple dozen feet beneath her, the crispy burnt leaves moving clumsily across hard grey concrete. She wasn't scared of heights. Heights, the dark, or even small places. She liked small-dark places, actually, especially that little igloo of sheets formed at the edge of her bed. It made her feel safe.
Gracie took a deep breath. Even from up here, she could still catch a whiff of it, hear the thumping beat echo through her skull. It didn't hurt, no. Just tingle. A little itch at the edge of her thoughts, poking and prodding every now and then, but never taking full control. No, that decision was Gracie's to make, Gracie's alone. Nonetheless, her expression came off as increasingly bothered.
The little unblooded vampire pressed her forehead to her knees, a small moan of frustration escaping her throat. The chilly air blew softly against the corner. Gracie focused her thoughts upon the small black pen in her hand, the clicks as she toyed with the button over and over.
CLICK
CLICK
CLICK...
The scent of blood was overwhelming. It was getting close, way too close. Somewhere close behind, Gracie heard a shuffle. A slip, lost balance. Pink eyes wide and alert, the young preteen's head darted up, looking back for the source of the noise.
"Hello...?"
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YOU ARE READING
A Compilation of Fantasy Concepts
FantasiaA high-pitched, pain-stricken scream. Like a hawk. That was the sound that echoed through the gloomy sky that evening. The furious clouds banged their drums and distributed fireworks in preparation of the godly tantrum to come, animals of the forest...
