Lightning raced across the border of the nighttime sky.  The rain poured heavily outside her window.  She sat on the bed with knees bent; arms emoting submission.  Her garment slid from her shoulder. Slowly, she lifted her gaze to look at him.

He stood, blocking the only exit from the room, standing just outside the dim light of the room while leaning against the door frame.   She thought to herself, Its better this way.  Better to not look into his eyes; to not see her reflection in them.


The mahogany posts of the bed twisted down to their bulbed bases.   She sat still with a near acceptance of the situation expressed by her silence.   Her foot dangled above the cold surface of the tiled floor while she waited.

He moved from the door to the interior of the room stalking her.   A smile crept into the corners of his eyes as he watched her walk softly around the room, leaving lit candles in her train.

She sat back on the bed with the veil of rain isolating the sounds inside the room.  I introduce you to my dreams, invite you to my bed.  I welcome you into my soul.  Enfolding you into my body. Prostituting my soul.  Prostituting my dreams.  Accepting your scarce attentions as payment.  

He leaned forward and kissed her neck, sampling, tasting, foreshadowing. The act void of any spiritual warmth; the heat ephemeral.

Sparking a flood of thoughts flowing downstream, pushing against the banks, her mind was alight with activity.  Your kiss…Its duality in nature, sustains my heart between hope and despair.  Too needing your touch mechanical.  Too needing your kiss Iscariot.  

She looked at his face while wrestling with the thoughts that were running through her mind.  Too weak to make you leave… Lovingly addicted.  Moving among the shadows.  Your intentions are vampire-like.  Drink of my soul.  Drink deeply.  

Blurred focus rested upon arbitrary fixtures in the room, as a tear fell embodied her silent cry.  My soul near empty.  Your soul already empty.  A wound that won’t heal.  My heart betrayed trust.  A smile to mask.  

“I love you baby,” he said as their eyes made brief contact.   For a moment, for a minute, they both focused on the truth in the emptiness of his words.  She understood what he was about was slick talk.  A vampire living off the emotion and dreams of his prey.

He leaned in to claim his prize.  With her emotional guilt overcome by desire, she slowly bit down on his neck.  Her fangs slid into the flesh of his throat as rivulets of red trickled down her chin.  She greedily jerked at his softening body, while licking the salty surface of his skin mixed with the copper taste of his blood.

The delirium was clouding over his mental faculties.  He was experiencing fuzzy, tunnel vision as he began to fade out.  She opened her eyes, now red and flush with the blood lust.   The hunter had become the hunted.

by malakhai jones
© Copyright 2016

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    1. Thanks Elizabeth! I just rolled over to your site. You’ve been busy. I’m gonna have to catch up on my reading here. (Out loud thinking happening here: Weird that I don’t get notifications from most of the bloggers I follow. I’m sure it’s user error)

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I’ve been a writing fool. Spreading wings, seeing what sticks, what feels right. It was nice to read your story today, I am starting to branch out a bit into those as well. You are a great inspiration. Xx

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Well, thanks, but I think we are inspiring each other. You’ve got some good stuff. I enjoy reading your blog. I guess that’s what we are all aspiring to do – write things we like and hope they are entertaining to others. I’m trying different forms, styles, and rhythms myself. Seeing what sticks as well.

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      3. For me it is something that flows out…and if it resonates with another, that is the reward. I’ve never explored writing in this way, and I’m enjoying the ride. 🙂

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