Domenyo ran blindly down the hill, his feet ramming against against unseen rocks. But the pain went ignored as the dim fire light from the nearby village came onto the horizon. Just as Domenyo was about to shout for help, something with the force of speeding ferrari rammed into his body.
“Dracula was a horror story, Auntie,” Domenyo rolled his eyes, “Vampires are works of artists with a sick imagination,”
“Every artist gets their inspiration somewhere,” his aunt said, sticking her chin out.
“Maybe, but what does disease have to do with vampires?”
“Nothing, it’s a local legend,” his mother assured him. She turned her head sharply towards her sister, “Yayra, don’t fill his head with superstitions-”
“In the wild, it takes the form of a firefly. In that form it can suck the blood of animals and humans while spreading diseases that can never be cured.” Yayra leaned over Domenyo, her dark face serious as a grave, “and when you capture it, it turns into a horrible monster.”
Domenyo crashed onto the ground, Emily flinging like a ragdoll a few feet away from him. His jaw clamped down on his tongue as his face collided with the dirt, and a floodgate of blood in his mouth was released. There was barely a pause before he spat the liquid on the dirt and looked toward his lover, his head trembling from the pain. The dark red liquid dripped down his chin.
Domenyo instinctively flinched. Light poured onto the land as if the sun had visited the night. As his eyes adjusted, Domenyo lost his breath with every second the creature became clear.
It stood over Emily’s still body like a tower. It was black like oil and without a hair on its body. Its arms were long and thin, swaying like tree branches past its knees, dirty red and pink sphere-like claws at the end of its huge hands. Bones jutted out at the joints, as if the skin was too thin to hold it together. The forehead was slanted, making its terrible features more prominent. It had no eyes, but holes that held a yellow light.
“Dracula was a horror story, Auntie,” Domenyo rolled his eyes, “Vampires are works of artists with a sick imagination,”
“Every artist gets their inspiration somewhere,” his aunt said, sticking her chin out.
“Maybe, but what does disease have to do with vampires?”
“Nothing, it’s a local legend,” his mother assured him. She turned her head sharply towards her sister, “Yayra, don’t fill his head with superstitions-”
“In the wild, it takes the form of a firefly. In that form it can suck the blood of animals and humans while spreading diseases that can never be cured.” Yayra leaned over Domenyo, her dark face serious as a grave, “and when you capture it, it turns into a horrible monster.”
Domenyo crashed onto the ground, Emily flinging like a ragdoll a few feet away from him. His jaw clamped down on his tongue as his face collided with the dirt, and a floodgate of blood in his mouth was released. There was barely a pause before he spat the liquid on the dirt and looked toward his lover, his head trembling from the pain. The dark red liquid dripped down his chin.
Domenyo instinctively flinched. Light poured onto the land as if the sun had visited the night. As his eyes adjusted, Domenyo lost his breath with every second the creature became clear.
It stood over Emily’s still body like a tower. It was black like oil and without a hair on its body. Its arms were long and thin, swaying like tree branches past its knees, dirty red and pink sphere-like claws at the end of its huge hands. Bones jutted out at the joints, as if the skin was too thin to hold it together. The forehead was slanted, making its terrible features more prominent. It had no eyes, but holes that held a yellow light.
And every bit of it glowed like a fallen star.