Short Fiction Blog

This is my contribution to the Weekend Wordsmith prompt. It’s my first vampire story.

Nathanial walked silently through the night. Stealth was necessary for his mission, and he’d perfected it long ago…so long ago. He couldn’t remember how many he’d killed. What they looked like, where they were from, who they were. None of that mattered. He could remember the sweet taste of their blood though. He could still feel it coursing in his veins all these years later. Each victim left their mark on his soul in this way.

Walking the streets of New York tonight, he was weary. Weary of the sameness of it all. There was no excitement anymore; no adventure. It was too easy. People were too complacent. They would walk right up to him in the alley. Never suspecting he’d be the last person they’d ever see.

When he sank his teeth into their neck, they looked as though they expected it. That nothing surprised them anymore. He often mourned the loss of innocence; the wonder that used to appear in his victim’s eyes as they died.

He saw the girl turn the corner. She never even slowed down. With a sigh, Nathanial took what was offered.

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