Old Work

Something I wrote several months ago.

It was on a Saturday night at the end of February. Orin walked beside me, his height enough that my elbow rested relaxed on his back. I scratched him behind the ears and he was panting and wagging his long tail when he stiffened and I heard something. A rustling in the bushes and a sickening sound like raw meat tearing off a bone. Orin growled low, looking at me to see my reaction. I wasn’t afraid yet; a chill ran up my spine and I was intrigued. Orin “wuffed” and looked at his back. I knew what that meant and gently slid onto him, locking my hands around his muscled neck and clamping my legs to his side. He started forward, his gate smooth and comforting, the warmth emanating from his long fur acting as a jacket in the cold forest shadows. The tearing sound continued as he cautiously snuck toward the source. He parted the underbrush and in a moonlit clearing crouched a figure. The clothes were worn and old, the skin pale and glowing in the night. The girl’s fine blonde hair dragged in the blood of the small animal dead in front of her.

It’s a vampire; and she’s new. Orin snarled in my mind. I could feel his muscles ripple under me as his fight or flight instincts kicked in.

She seems familiar, far, far too familiar. I said as the frightening recognition dawned in my mind.

The vampire turned toward us then and a mixture of emotion tore through me: terror, shock, horror, and for some reason nostalgia. It was Simone; my best friend for more than five years was crouched before me. Blood trickled down the sides of her pale mouth and her eyes were a purple color instead of their usual clear, sky blue. That was an ok sign; instead of the blood-starved red this color meant she had been at least partially satiated. Her gaze was clouded and animalistic, she seemed to peer through Orin and I instead of at us.

“Simone” I whispered, staring at her. The name brought her around and she looked at me with a child like confusion. She stood, stepping toward us, before Orin snarled angrily and snapped his formidable jaws. Simone automatically took a fighting position, hissing, but I broke what could have been a fight, “RUN!” I screamed at her, moving my hands to grab Orin’s ears. Fear became apparent in Simone’s gaze and she looked at me with what I hoped was recognition, before disappearing like a ghost into the underbrush.
~+~+~

Don't worry Simone, you end up with an Edward-type person in the end. And you're not evil. Happy Birthday BTW!!