Valentine’s Day

A quiet knock at the front door sends me stumbling from the living room. As I fumble for the lock, I glance up and am startled by the darkness outside; it’s way later than I thought. A shiver of apprehension prickles up my back as I open the door.
My dark garden is unaffected by nearby streetlights, creating a black and grey world. I blink several times as I wait for my eyes to adjust, feeling like there’s a heart pounding in my throat. In the shadows I finally discern the outline of a body. Motionless, the dark figure stands on the garden path, their hands cupped around something.
“What do you want?” I intend my sentence to be a command, but my voice falters and rises into a squeak at the end. I clasp my shaking hands behind my back.
The figure steps towards me, and for a moment fear crystallises my mind. A million terrible scenarios unfold in my mind, and time slows to a crawl. I watch their body slice through still air, creating ripples and shifts that flow out from them, a tsunami flooding from the epicentre, a scent in the air that slams into me like a wall.
There’s too much saliva in my mouth. I swallow heavily, but the smell is overpowering, impossible to ignore. My feet lead me off the porch and out of safety. The closer I get to the figure, the stronger it becomes until I feel like I’m drowning. Deliciously sweet, metallic, cloying – everything I want. Blood. Fresh blood, and I can’t breathe.
“I got you something,” the figure whispers. At the voice my fear abruptly vanishes and I want to laugh at my paranoia; in my old age, I’m growing foolish.
Grinning wolfishly, I reaching out. My fingers brush her cheek and I kiss her. Her smile brushes against mine, her wicked scent hiding behind the far stronger one. She laughs, a breathy giggle.
“You don’t want it to go cold,” she chides, raising her hands to offer me the treasure cupped between them. I gaze at the flesh in wonder. Whole, warm, perfect. It’s so fresh it was practically still beating.
“You did this? For me?”
Her sticky hand ghosts up my arm, her breath in my ear. “Aren’t you lucky to have a girlfriend that spoils you so?”
I can’t articulate the words, so I press my lips against hers to let her understand what I’m trying to say. Her bloody hand tugs at my hair, pulling me close so we are pressed together. After a moment she yanks me back.
“I didn’t go to all the trouble of killing someone just so you could let my gift congeal.” She reprimands me sharply, cupping the human heart in hands stained the colour of rust. My mouth waters, and I take it from her graciously. As I sink my teeth into the thick muscle, I can’t help the loud moan that issues from my throat. It’s heaven; it tastes like it smells, but so much richer. Its been far too long since I feasted on human flesh. I tear off another mouthful, the warm blood filling my mouth as I bite down.
Her sharp teeth gleam white in the darkness. I chew and swallow, my eyes rolling back in my head.
“Oh, god…” I mumble. She’s there, hot body wrapped around me, lips on my throat. Her voice is an echo within my head.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, my love.”


One thought on “Valentine’s Day

  1. Anne Schilde says:

    Haha, have a heart!

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