The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

Paula sat pensively in the bay window seat, her back to the old stonewall as she looked to the left, through the panels of glass in the window and passed the small garden to the road that ran past, bisecting the Mooreland that stretched to the far horizon, all round the cottage.



She stared outside with brown eyes, set within an elfin face; dark, straight shoulder length hair, worn with a centre-part and, a fringe.



Paula was wearing a simple white cotton skirt with a bib front, the hem of which reached to her bare feet.



She had drawn her knees up to her breasts and wrapped her hands round them, fingers knitted together.



There was no electricity, bar that provided by a small generator; and the only gas that came to the property came in a bottle. The place had seemed ideal, at first.



The cottage was aware from everything and everyone; so she had no distractions and, no reason to stop writing. But, she had stopped.



And, right now, Paula was unable to start writing again.



It was just as though she were as distracted as she had been in the city, she was.

Yet, she had good reason for her distraction she thought, she had met someone.



Her mind a veritable whorl of multi-layered thought, Paula had taken herself for a walk. She had closed the small green gate at the end of the path, and then looked first left, then right.



It hadn’t been raining that day, one of the few it hadn’t of late; and Paula had been determined to make the best of what was left of the day.



So, she had taken the left turn and, begun walking.



The sky had been light as she left the small cottage. Yet, having found a path that led off from the small main road, down to a meandering stream, the sky had turned from light blue to a darker hue; and just short of pitch black, on a moonless night.



Paula had looked at her watch, ‘just past seven’, she’d mused, ‘who’d have thought it was nearly summer.



Realizing the time, Paula had decided to make her way back to ‘Clavern’, the small cottage she had rented. Yet, in the dark she had quickly lost her bearings, until within the space of half an hour, she realized that she was quite lost.



And, it was as the cold mist began to form all around her, further increasing her sense of disorientation; and, she was glad that she had chosen to wear a jumper and jeans, instead of the dresses she favoured.





And, her heart beating faster, the slightly built brunette had been very startled by a figure in black emerging from the thick cloying mist.



He was tall, dressed in thigh-length coat, it’s collars pulled up and folded in; and he easily dwarfed her petite frame: and, she looked up as he appeared, walking toward her with the glimmer of a smile playing on his pale, gaunt face.



The fellow’s hair was dark, like his eyes; and n the circumstances no-one would be surprised at Paula’s response to his appearance. She had screamed.



Later she would be embarrassed, but not then.



Paula had screamed, long and loud. Finally, when she had ceased, the stranger’s smile had broadened: “Finished?” He asked.



“Yes…” Paula had responded; and stepped backward blushing, hand to her mouth.



“Hey hey, I don’t bite…” he assured her, “unless invited. Or…?”



He cut off his words, pleased to note that she hadn’t backed further away.



“The name’s Darryl, Darryl Morgan; pleased to meet you…” His was a local accent, she realised; and his style of clothing looked formal and covered in dried mud.



The fellow offered his right hand, in greeting, which Paula looked at, momentarily fascinated by his long nails.



He held his hand out; and continued to do so, until she nervously took it in hers.



“You look lost…” He observed, somewhat unnecessarily. She was.



“Erm… I wanted to get back to the cottage, where I’m staying…” she informed him.



“And, where’s that?” He asked her, her hand still in his.



“Clavern cottage,” she told him, very aware of just how green his eyes were; and how the depth of her breathing pattern had changed completely, she was aroused.



She felt hot and hotter still, as his free hand reached out and, Darryl lightly caressed her left shoulder.



As it travelled down the side of her body, he released her hand and caressed her left cheek, forefinger and middle-finger brushing against the pearl earring in her delicate earlobe.



“Claven?” He repeated, “You’re staying at Clavern cottage?”



She had nodded, in response, still staring into his deep eyes; then moaned softly, as he slid his left hand from her shoulder and down to the curve of her back, across her pert buttock, to the top of her thigh.

As his hand continued its movement, Paula lifted her backside up to meet his hand and slowly spread her legs; suddenly regretful that she had chosen to wear jeans.



And tearing herself from his gaze, she stepped back again, away from him and, then turned her head away from his eyes.



“A strong character, to resist my influence…” Darryl muttered, with a sigh, “perhaps I’m out of touch with what I could do…”



Paula turned back to look at the man in black, covered in mud; and puzzled, she said to him, “What do you mean?”



Looking at the toes of his brogues, Darryl sighed again: “I have slept beneath Clavern cottage for nigh on twenty years, until I woke just a short while ago…”



And as realization struck Paula, her mouth had opened: and finally she said, “You’re a vampire?”



At her words, Darryl lifted his head, drawing his top lip from his upper pronounced canine teeth: “Yes,” he hissed.



Then as abruptly as he had displayed his real face, it returned to it’s previous smiling countenance, much to Paula’s relief.



“And although it is my nature, I do not prey on the innocent. So please, will you accept my apologies, for my unwarranted behaviour?”



And, finding cause to smile herself at last, Paula responded, “I’ll do so, if you tell me how to get back to the cottage…”



With a sweeping gesture, Darryl bowed low, and then stood and offered his left hand.

“Would you let me guide you Ma’am?”



Paula had been hesitant to take the proffered hand, at first, but did so; and, within less then quarter of an hour later, she was at the door to ‘Clavern cottage’.



She had not invited him in.



Now she sat, still wondering at all she recalled, waiting for her taxi: ‘at least half an hour’, she had been told. Paula had finally decided that now she had some idea’s to write about, ‘perhaps a vampire romance?’ But, she would do so from the security of her small apartment in the city.



‘But, this half hour is going to feel like forever,’ she decided.