Fiction | Urban Fantasy | Humor | Vampires

Eternal Dilemma

What’s a modern vampire to do?

Cape, or no cape? What are vampires wearing these days? It’s an eternal dilemma. They don’t exactly have fashion magazines for my kind. Do they?

Having an eternity on my hands and one hell of a case of insomnia, I’ve read every book there on vampires. I’ve watched every film and show, studied every character, from Nosferatu to Count Dracula to Adventure Time’s Marceline.

Still can’t decide on the cape, so I hang it back up. It would look pretty fucking cool to come in all capes a-swirling, but I also don’t want to look old-fashioned. I’m still making an impression out there. New kid on the block and all.

I run my tongue over my teeth, new fangs sharp as tacks. I breathe into my hand. Minty fresh. Brushed, flossed, and rinsed. I don’t want someone in their last moments to tell me I have bad breath. That would totally kill the mood. One last adjustment of my long hair (which turned white when I turned — go figure), a touch of lipstick, and I’m out the door.

She doesn’t notice me as I follow her. I’ve been watching her for days. My second victim.

She lives alone in an apartment on a lonely side street beside a derelict Chinese restaurant. Easy pickings.

Last night she was slightly tipsy. Not a good meal. So, I just watched. She stumbled slightly into the door as she sought her keys in that infernal handbag of hers.

This human doesn’t seem as concerned with her safety like most people in this city. As a woman myself, I am honestly annoyed at how oblivious she is to her surroundings. It’s a wonder she’s lived this long.

That’s why tonight, I find myself saving her life instead of taking it.

From my vantage point on the roof, I see the man lurking in the dark corner near the dumpster while she fumbles her for keys yet again. She curses softly into the night, her voice barely above a whisper, but my superhuman hearing picks up the slightest sounds these days.

As he begins to creep toward her, I jump from my perch on the roof and land lightly behind him, without making a sound. Damn, I bet that looked cool as hell. I need to remember to set up my phone sometime and record myself doing it so I can see how awesome I look. It would make a great profile pic.

My hand is over his mouth and I’m pulling him further into the darkness. My teeth sink into his flesh before he has time to scream, but he makes an obnoxious whimpering sound as his blood rushes into my mouth. I try to stifle a moan of pleasure, but it escapes anyway.

My knees almost go weak from the rush.

People say there’s nothing better than sex. Well, people, I beg to fucking differ.

Our sounds emitting from the darkness attract her attention and she wheels around with a gasp as his limp body crumples at my feet. A tiny speck of light assaults my eyes from the miniscule flashlight on her keychain. Who is she kidding with that thing?

“D-don’t move!” she stutters, a can of pepper spray clutched in a trembling hand. The other still holds the rinky-dink flashlight.

I hold up my hands to show I’m no danger to her, stepping over the still-warm corpse. “Hey, I mean you no harm.” I catch her eyes and they linger on mine. I’m still working on the whole hypnosis thing. It’s not working. “That guy did though,” I say, pointing at the body, “so…I uh…dispatched him for you. You’re safe now.” I step into the watered-down halo of light that emits from a single, sad bulb by her door.

She looks past me and her eyes alight on the body. She gasps, hand over her mouth. Eyes wide with panic, she takes a few tentative steps towards him. “Wh-what are those marks on his neck?” she stammers, leaning in slightly.

“Well, miss, those are fang marks. I drank his blood. Now he’s dead. End of story.”

“Wait — you’re a…no, you can’t be, vampires don’t exist,” she whispers to herself, backing toward the door, away from me. “I’ve got to stop reading so many Aria Wraithe stories at night.” She shakes her head, rubs her eyes, and looks at me again.

“You can rub your eyes all you want, I’m a vampire, not a figment of your imagination. I assure you; I won’t hurt you. I’ve already dined for the evening, as you can see.” I gesture toward the dead man lying face down in the corner of the alley. “Anyway, you’re drunk, so you aren’t exactly an enticing meal. Your blood would taste like shit.” I daintily tap the corners of my mouth with a handkerchief. Old-fashioned maybe, but I’m not walking around with blood all over my mouth. That’s just gross. I discard the bloody handkerchief on the ground. Keeping a bloody handkerchief is even grosser. And it’s not like I leave fingerprints, so I don’t have to worry about the cops.

“So you really are a…”

I finish her sentence. “A vampire, yes.” I nod my head once, my mouth crooked in a smile. “I am indeed.”

“Well…if you’re a vampire…then where’s your cape?”

H.R. Parker © 2023 All Rights Reserved.

This story is a response to JF Danskin’s awesome spooky prompts for October 💀🎃. Click here to get inspired!

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