The Queen of the Vampires slips between buildings in the night--
She glides like a dark idea you won't admit to...
She is hungry
She is not exactly human
She is there, in the shadows, waiting.
The stars over Norman are exactly seven more than normal--
They are scattered like bubbles in the blood upon seeing one's beloved,
They can stop a heart
Or start one.
The QOTV is a needful girl tonight,
Her nature demanding,
Yet completely familiar,
Like a pet that bites.
Here comes someone.
Here comes someone down the sidewalk, like a drop of blood down the skin of a throat...
Here comes a warm living soul.
The QOTV feels each muscle tense and relax in the ancient dance--
She feels half primed already, just from anticipation.
The walker draws close, like an omen of the end time,
And the QOTV steps out from her place of concealment,
A smooth soft blur;
She is on her like her next breath,
For the walker is definitely female.
The QOTV goes for the throat,
Bitch to her natural desires, unthinking, an embodied rush of need.
The woman laughs,
As they sway into a corner together.
"Baby," she manages between kisses.
The QOTV only makes purring sounds that say,
"I missed you
Out of this whole goddam world."
Blood can be gotten elsewhere, from anyone--
Right now, the QOTV is all about the Dark-Haired Chick, for that is who it is;
And who is the prey,
And where solid ground has gone
Is anybody's guess.
for One Shot Wednesday