(Originally written: December 12/2002 )
Friday December 27, 1991
I quietly wandered from the sweaty warmth of the bed, feeling brute sensations of inferiority throb in my shoulders
as I peered through the open window of the hotel room. The snow was falling again, but never have I tasted
it's icy ambiance because I am immune to the cold. I wish I was immune to my hunger.
Perhaps then I could fall in love and be at peace.
Or at least content with who I am... a female vampire.
Waves of desperation streamed through my sticky thighs and invoked thoughts of pain within my head.
My eyes naturally respond to my present state of mind. Anger changes their iris to a bright crimson red.
A color I know much too well to find solace in, so I squeezed them shut and slowly felt the glowing heat
in them subside and fall numb.
Inhaling a deep and icy breath I opened my pale-gray eyes and gently licked
the nail tips of the first three fingers on my left hand, briefly relishing the copper
taste of my male friend, Samuel Marbrowery. I remembered when we first met,
merely moments ago. I was crossing the street when he almost hit me with his car.
He offered to drive me to this hotel after he saw how furious I was.
When we came here he paid for the room and in his eyes I saw where everything was headed.
I fought with the lingering pangs of my hunger for as long as I could, but his kindness felt so inviting
that my self-control began to break away.
My instincts overtook me and before I became acutely aware of those sharp,
yet dry curves of my upper jaw extend, I felt my eyes sink inward, ignited by the
burning desire to feed. We tenderly kissed, undressed and eased ourselves beneath
the white covers. He diligently made love to me, seeking to satisfy me moreso than himself.
Lost in the depths of our shared pleasure, I felt my eyes turn color from an ocean blue,
to a forest green, into a golden, sunshine orange and finally to a crescent-snow white.
That was when I bit him.
A flooding rush of starvation invaded my nose and I became intoxicated by the aroma
of his body sweat. I recalled nothing of his shrill screams or desperate cries to be released.
I could only remember the aching hunger inside of me and the torturous requirement to feed.
Now, as I stand naked and ashamed beside the pale corpse of the only man who ever truly showed me love,
I cannot help my feelings of regret for the lives I must take to sustain my feminine form.
There is surely nothing I can say or do to change my past...
But I at least have learned a highly valuable lesson for my future.
Never play with the food.
Reshyrah Valerie Robbinson (Dec. 1991)