The moon rose above the purple, starless sky, its radiance being shed upon men once again. A figure stood alone, hidden within the darkness. His gaze was towards the moon, half smiling. Though his whole self was clothed within the shadows, his eyes were clearly visible---bright red, like rubies, crimson as blood. Those red, piercing eyes looked towards the silver moon. The night is young he thought, he completely merged within the shadows, slowly he disappeared into the night.
Tired and drained of all energy, she kept on running. Tears streamed down her face. Her whole body wanted rest; fear stirred within her as she continued on running. Behind her a man followed---wearing tattered clothes, and a knife held within his hands. A knife that looked like it experienced a lot of cutting in the past, tasted a lot of blood from different victims, marked itself with their death. Like a beast, the man silently followed his prey. He smiled, showing his incomplete set of dentures, he gripped his knife tightly. He can almost hear it, the sound of someone being stabbed repeatedly. The sound of someone dying. He patiently followed the girl as the girl kept on running.
Blood dripped from his lips, he wiped it with his sleeve. A body of a young boy lay beside him. His eyes burned crimson red. He glanced toward the moon, no longer silver but now also a shade of red. He lifted the body and disposed it inside the nearby dumpster. He still felt unsatisfied; he still craved for more. The feeling of draining someone else's life, the sheer pleasure it gives. His victim's blood, he can still taste it. He licked his sleeve, trying not to waste any of the boy's blood. He can feel it within him, the urge to feed, the unquenchable thirst for more. Still feeling hungry, he once again disappeared into the night.
She stopped for a moment, trying to catch her breath. She heard footsteps approaching and started to run once more. The man behind her whistled to himself a tune, a song of old, as he tried to enjoy the moment. She tripped herself and fell hard to the ground. She tried to get up ignored the blinding pain from her leg. The man slowly grew tired of playing cat and mouse and quickly increased his speed and runs to the girl--he grabbed her hair and pulled it hard. Once more she fell to the ground. A mixture of tears and fear flooded her eyes, they streamed down her pale cheeks, and slowly died on her lips. Like a cornered prey, she whimpered in fear. The man reached for her but she frantically kicks him. She screamed loudly. But to him, the girl's screams were like sweet music, like a song being sung in an opera, it's relaxing. He violently swung his knife, creating cuts on the girl but trying not to kill her. The girl tried to get up but the man overpowered her. He pulled her back towards the ground; she screamed some more. The man closed his eyes and tried to savor the sweet sound his victim's producing. The sound of someone crying for help, the sound of someone about to die.
He glides through the night, sensing everything that is happening around him. The forsaken, the damned, the beast of the night, some of the names given to his kind. He abhors each one of those names, names which men calls his kind. Throughout history, his kind is pictured as someone lower than men. But to him it was the opposite. Men's very existence is to serve as a meal. The red blood pumping within them, circulating their body, tempting to be drained. As he reflects on his thoughts, a scream shatters the silence of the night. He can smell the sweet scent of blood hanging in the air. He makes out a small smile, showing off his fangs. He heads towards the source of the scream.
Cuts and blood cover the girl's legs, the man smiles at his carvings. Consciousness slowly escapes the girl, strength slowly escapes her body through the cuts. The man growing tired of his games holds the knife upwards and is about to plunge it to the girl's chest when he saw something move in the shadows. "Who's there?" The man slowly approaches the place where he saw the movement.
"What a detestable way to kill," the voice seems to come from everywhere, "you know sir, you should try to preserve your victim's body instead of ruining it like that."
"Who are you? What do you want?" the man points his knife to nothingness as if to scare away the disembodied voice.
"Who am I? I am the creature that lurks in the night, I am the one that has live for eternity, I am the king of the damned, I am one of the forsaken, my name sir is of no importance," said the voice, "and you sir are the one who has killed five young ladies for the past week, what is it that they call you? The Carver right?"
"You with the cops? You don't come near me, I swear I'll kill this lady here," The Carver points his knife to the immobile body of the girl.
"I'm afraid I won't allow a good dinner to go to waste," said the man from the darkness. "I really advice you to just walk away and turn yourself to the authorities."
"Hahah, you crazy? Now why would I do that? Enough of your talking, I think I'll kill you first before I kill this girl here."
But as The Carver run to the man from the darkness he saw the man's eyes, clearly for the first time. Eyes with the color of fire, burning everything in its path, red as the blood he sucks from his victims, eyes filled with hate, with pain, with power. Melancholic eyes that seem to stare into eternity and beyond, eyes that had witnessed multiple deaths both from his hands and from other's. Never before had The Carver seen eyes filled with power, and iniquitous, and sadness. The Carver unconsciously drops his knife, unimaginable fear slowly swells up within him, gripping his heart like a vice, robbing him with the every breath he exhales. The Carver falls to his knees, his right hand clutching his chest tight. His heartbeat slows down until his heart isn't breathing anymore. The Carver dies on his knees--sheer terror painted on his face, dried tears printed on his cheeks, a sculpture representing horror and fear.
The man from the darkness slowly approaches the girl, his feet not touching the ground. The girl regains consciousness and sees the man standing over her. The man helps her stand, he's tall she thought. She looks at his crimson eyes and slowly feels her knees weaken; she closes her eyes. The man opens his mouth revealing his white fangs plunges them deep into the girl's neck, slowly draining away the pain, slowly draining away the sadness and confusion, liberating her from life.
