The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

First Feeding



“Keeley? “ Miranda grabbed his arm, clinging in a desperate attempt to keep from collapsing as the wave of hunger – of need – tore through her being. “It hurts,” she whispered, choking as another stab of pain hit. “I’m so hungry.”



“Go. Feed.” Keeley gave Miranda a gentle nudge down the darkened alley. Stumbling forward several feet before collapsing near a dumpster, hunger ate away at her like acid on precious metal, her throat and mouth as dry as the rustling fall oak leaves.



Shuffling sounds signaled someone approaching from the far end of the alleyway. A vagrant. Maybe a drunken college student. Fear bubbled up inside to mingle and churn with the hunger already tearing away at her. Then Keeley’s words echoed in Miranda’s head: The only thing in this alley more dangerous than you is me. Calming somewhat, she huddled into herself, too weak from pain and hunger to do more.



The stranger continued approaching. Miranda could smell him now. Knew him to be a drunken vagrant by his smell. What’s more, she could feel him, sense his breathing, feel his heartbeat, as he advanced upon her. Smell the lust beneath his curiosity.



“You ok, girl? Do you need some help?” His questions dancingly grated upon her nerves, distracting from the delicious sound of the living blood pulsing through his veins. Her insides wrenched into a tortured knot, forcing a cry from her parched lips.



The stranger reached out, gently brushing the hair back from the side of her face. “Let’s git somewhere warmer…” Maybe warm each other a bit. She saw the unfinished thought play across his face, nearly as obvious as the spoken word. Inside, Miranda struggled with her emotions. Her hunger. Her rapidly departing humanity.



She looked up then, into his rich brown eyes. “No., she gasped, eyes resting finally upon his throat, almost in a caress. “I need…you.” Her arms came up to encircle him, parody of a lovers’ embrace as the vagrant chuckled over his unexpected fortune. Suddenly, Miranda’s sharp teeth pierced flesh, at first missing their mark. She held him firmly during the shocked struggle, hunger making her strong. Finally….the vein.



Like good hard liquor, his blood burned her throat and belly, spreading to warm her veins. Slowly the pain eased away, replaced by a languid fullness underscored with pleasure matched only by Keeley’s embrace.



Miranda drank until her belly was full and the fire from his lifeblood filled her veins. Then Keeley was there, pulling her back from the fading beat that had recently pounded so loudly. His arm about her shoulders, pulling her close, the two of them walked off in the night.



For the moment, she was content.



Copyright January 2005, Melinda M. Fulk

Miranda slid into sleep, heartbeat exploding in her ears and echoing in her mind. Thump-thump, thump-thump; the only sound she heard. Leaden limbs drew farther down still, deep into the velvety comforting abyss. So this is what it’s like, she thought. The comfort of death’s embrace. First brief pain, then the mellow darkness. I should have done this long ago. Might have spared myself more grief.



An unnoticed gasp escaped her parted lips. The dark man - stranger no more - shifted position slightly, the better to support her. She was aware of this. She was also aware too of the slight pricking at her neck; the result of his movement. It all became more inconsequential as she gave herself up to the enveloping blackness.



Down. Down she sank like falling into a pile of autumn leaves. Willingly Miranda went, eagerly seeking blessed release from her life’s drudgery. The hammering within her mind increased. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. It was growing slower, second by merciful second.



But life is a stubborn thing, struggling to continue even when unwanted. Miranda’s will leapt to life, urging her to fight the coming night. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Her pulse echoed, growing louder. Fight, damn you! Fight! It whispered fiercely in her ear. Fight or death’ll have won. Fight, or life will have been meaningless. Fight, Miranda!



Survival broke through to her. She struggled in the arms of her deliverer. However, Miranda desired peace - rest- more than survival. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. The heartbeat began growing faint. Merciful release was sought once more.



Tangy moisture fell in droplets through her parted lips, striking her tongue. Something deep inside stirred, seared it’s way through the heavy blackness. Come to me, Miranda. The stranger’s call whispered. Come to me. Images began clouding before he darkening vision. Peter leaving her. Tabby, the cat, waiting dinner. Tumbling fall leaves. Those penetrating grey eyes. Her attention focused there. The vision held. Became stronger. Come back to me, Miranda. There’ll be no more pain. The eyes compelled - commanded - her attention. Her return.



Miranda struggled against that riveting gaze. She wanted her peace. Her rest. She deserved it! Darkness wrapped its cold comfort around her like a silken velvet cloak. And more sharp tanginess seared into her, hitting the back of her throat.



Please, Miranda, the grey eyes pleaded.



Thump-thump.



Thump-thump.



Miranda paused in her descent, looking deep within those eyes. Perhaps they contained more than the mere command to live. She looked...and saw need. Desire perhaps. Whatever his gaze revealed upon the screen behind her closed lids, she began to struggle. To fight her icy suitor.



The stranger wrapped his will around her’s, melding them together, lending her his strength. She tasted more of the tangy ichor. Consciousness and need came as one. Tentative hands grasped his offered arm. A hungry mouth fastened upon his wrist, drinking deep of the offered nectar waiting there. His blood. Her blood. Strength -warmth- crept through her languid body. Miranda’s eyes opened once more, fire burning deep within them.



The stranger cuddled her close, smiling down at her. Letting her drink deeply from his wrist, before pulling it gently away. “Welcome back, Miranda. Welcome to a new life. One which you create. Control.” A grin split his pale face. “Perhaps you’ll share part of it with me.”



She nodded her ascent, as deep within her a hunger raged. Miranda smiled, feeling her canines extending. Elongating. They brushed her lower lip.



“I’m thirsty.”



The stranger’s - Keeley’s - laughter spilt out into the October air as he helped her to her feet.



Copyright 1997, Melinda M. Fulk

(Warning: I personally don't like this one as well, but it does serve to bridge to the next story.)





The Dark Stranger



His silent call washed over her.



Follow me.



Follow me, Miranda.



I can end your pain, stop your suffering.



Follow me, Miranda.



Drawn forward by those steady grey eyes, and the sibilant whispering of his words in her mind, Miranda stepped forward into the alley, barely aware. A third of the way down iron steps snaked upward, into the night. He paused at the base. Waiting. Slowly, she ascended, drawn onward by that impenetrable gaze.



From the rooftop, they stood looking out over the University's Common Green, Grey Chapel towering in the background. October's half-moon cast it's silvery-color over all.



"My poor Miranda. You've suffered such pain." His hand caressed the side of her warm face as she turned, fitting her head to his cool palm. A soft sigh was his only answer.



"Would you like me to ease your pain, Miranda? Hmm? Remove it entirely, giving you the rest of oblivion? Or..." Pause. Grey eyes searched her face intently, "would you like me to give you a new life?" His hand slid beneath her hair to the soft skin of her neck, drawing her into him. Her hands, resting on his chest, detected no heartbeat singing beneath their touch. "Which would you wish of me, Miranda? You've only to ask...but you MUST choose."



Tentative.



Trembling.



Searching.



"Please. End it..."



With infinite slowness he leaned over her. Lips brushed mouth. Cheek. Neck., where he hesitated briefly. Miranda barely registered the pain as he sank into her flesh. Hands clutched at his shirt. She cried softly. Struggled briefly, futily. Finally she collapsed against him. The roaring, pounding heartbeat all that was heard. A lightheadedness threatened to consume her.



Thump, thump.



Thump, thump



Thump, thump...



Gradually the hammering subsided as other sounds seeped into her awareness. Breath's soft ragged whisper. The gentle, sucking sounds at her neck. Miranda could feel his hand, holding her in place. His arm around her waist more intimate than any lover's sweet embrace.



Thump, thump.



Thump, thump.



Thump, thump...



Miranda's heartbeat became fainter, fading towards nothingness as she fought against the dark curtain drawing in around her. Muffling her senses. She struggled in vain, blackness overtaking her, pulling her down. Down towards death.



He lifted his head as she collapsed completely into him. Holding her upright a moment more, he contemplated the look of serenity on her face. Once more caressing her cheek with the back of his hand, he sank to the rooftop, drawing her onto his lap. Ah, Miranda, now it's time for you to choose. I wonder. Will you come back to stay with me awhile? The stranger bent over her again, grey eyes scrutinizing. A gentle kiss. Quickly biting his wrist, he lowered it to her death-parted lips. Come to me, my Miranda.





Copyright 1996 Melinda M. Fulk. All rights reserved.

While Walking Home At Midnight



Miranda stepped out into the street, starting dejectedly for home. All Hallow’s Eve. Happy anniversary, she thought wryly to herself. He left me a year ago today and has the nerve to call and tell me how happy he is. They have each other and I have my overtime and antidepressants.



Hairs at the nape of her neck raised as though electrically charged. The sensation of being followed seeped up her spine. A shadow passing overhead. Unseen. Watching. Following. Miranda slowed. Pause. Turn. Nothing there. Peering into the gloom around revealed nothing more than familiar shadows, usually comforting. Tonight they menaced her. Off in the distance, the University clock tower sang out 12:00, the resonant boom adding to the Gothic atmosphere.



Chiding herself, she continued walking. Get a grip, Miranda. Appropriate a night as it may be, there is nothing out there but the overworked imagination of a world-weary mind! It is time to get home. The tingly feeling that she was being followed refused to be shaken and left behind with the wind-whipped fall leaves. “What’s wrong with you,” she muttered. “I’ve walked this route a hundred times and I am completely safe.” Just keep repeating that, she thought. Like a mantra of safety. I-am-completely-safe. Talk yourself home . The boogie man does not exist. You’re just tired, exhausted, and more than a little depressed.



Ahead a shadow crossed her path, startling her. Probably just a stray cat, she argued. Yeah, a very large stray cat. Boy, you’re jumpy tonight! It passed over again. My imagination may be putting in for overtime, but that was not a cat. Her walk increased its pace, just short of a trot. I shouldn’t be this spooked! Just a trick of the lighting and the wind in the leaves. I am completely safe...



Miranda turned a corner, the street leading straight for home. And safety. Her walk now a jog. Just two more blocks and I can lock my imagination outside with the darkness and shadows. Nothing more for company than my cat, infomercials, and some microwaved food.



Again, that feeling of scrutiny. Someone was following her. Wheeling around, ready for confrontation, she saw no one. Nothing to confirm her fears. See, you ninny! The apartment’s safety beckoned her. The security of a door between her and the darkness. The shadowy figure paused ahead. Still unseen. Waiting.



Miranda neared an alley entrance, feeling eyes upon her, sizing her up. She still saw no one there. Nothing. Alone. She was alone. Story of my life. She determined to walk the last stretch of street calmly, like a sane woman.



Before her. A man standing in the shadows. Unable to speak or move, breath caught, her eyes held by that appraising gaze. He reached out, with infinite gentleness, brushing the back of his hand against her cheek. The gesture intimate, yet innocent. An electric shock coursed through her body. He looked into her soul. Caressing it. Learning its secrets.



Suddenly alive, Miranda moved toward him, unbidden. He backed into the shadows, pulling her in after, using only that gaze. Without hesitation, Miranda followed, held prisoner by those penetrating grey eyes.



She walked forward into her salvation.



Copyright 1995 Melinda M. Fulk. All rights reserved.