I awoke to the sound of clinking beer bottles, bumping glass in a bag carried drunkenly around the corner. Ravished with hunger, I gave no thought as to who or what might greet me and proceeded towards my destination.
A couple sat on a bench, kissing and running their hands desperately all over one another. The man clutched the bag of beer on one hand, trying to keep his grip as he became more and more excited. With greater speed than I even knew was possible, I raged towards them, shoved the man’s head into the wall, crushing it like an overripe melon as the bag fell from his hands and the contents shattered within.
Then I reached for the woman.
Shoving her head downward, I held her mouth tightly shut, muffling her screams as I pinned her down and tried to plunge extended fangs into her jugular vein. Based on the myths, I thought this was supposed to be instinctual, something natural and automatic, but her veins rolled as I tried to pierce them, and again and again, I found flesh.
Her entire throat resembled ground hamburger, flesh ripped in jagged pieces partially splattered here and there, a piece or two stuck to my chin, caked on with clotting blood and what was left of her life. Instead of piercing the vein, I ripped it in two, bathing the both of us in crimson paint that quickly dried into a dark brown goo sticking to us like mud dried in the sun.
I looked at her, dead eyes looking somewhere out in the distance, head hanging on by a few leftover strands of muscle and bone. Suddenly, panic hit me, and I realized that I needed to find someplace to hide until I got another chance to walk the dark.
Leaving both corpses, I ran towards the warehouses along the Buffalo Bayou and broke open a door. Wandering through the maze of goods in storage, I located a spot in a far corner and burrowed myself into it until it was safe again to come back out.
