She

She

Chapter One

A single tear ran down her pale cheek, smearing her white rose skin
with black mascara. It wound its way past her dark red lips, leaving a
road of darkened pain, before dripping slowly off her chin, and pooling
softly on the white silk of the bed sheets. She stared out past her
violet curtains, out into the stormy night. The scene blurred as tears
welled up in her eyes, she blinked, letting them fall. Slowly, she
raised her hand, as if to try clean them away, but her nails were
bitten and bloody. She touched her skin, and blood smeared down the
side of her face. She looked in the mirror in front of her and gasped
at her reflection. She swept her long black hair away from her eyes
before gathering her black dress and standing. She walked slowly
towards her reflection, taking care with every step she took. She was
not used to walking in heels. That was the thing about funerals; you
must always dress so formally, in black. Her black hat lay on her
pillow, where she had earlier thrown it. She bent down and removed her
shoes. She placed one near the bed, and threw the other with all her
might at the mirror. She watched as it exploded into a thousands
shards, and shrieked as bits of glass pierced her skin. She calmed
herself before bending down and picking up one of the larger pieces of
glass. She stepped backwards and sat on her bed.

She looked at the glass in her hand, stained already with the blood
from her fingers. Then she raised her other hand, turned it, so she
could see the biggest vein in her wrist, and drove the sharpest edge of
the glass hard into the vein until blood sprung up around it,
blossoming. It fell on the bed sheets, staining them a deep red. In the
flickering candle light, she could see the blood slide down her arm,
and fall from her elbow.

Now she stood, a grin on her face, the tears were gone now. As her face
morphed into that of a vampire's she strode towards the door, looking
back at the young man she'd changed.

'Now I know.' She muttered.

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Chapter Two

As the priest read the final words, the coffin was lowered into the
ground, slowly, and unevenly. The crowd moved forward to say their last
goodbyes, and then dispersed. The priest looked down at the grave of
the young girl, Maria Lockheart. He turned away, remembering her
regular church visits and readings. Such a good girl, and so young. He
remembered her last words to him when she left the church after her
reading on Friday.

'You may not see me again.'

Later that evening he heard of her fate. Terrific bloodloss, and deep
puncture wounds to the neck. He knew she'd be back.

Behind him, a hand shot through the varnished wood that was the coffin.
Deep in his murmurings, he didn't hear her steps, didn't sense her
hands reaching towards his neck, couldn't react as she reached
forwards, and grabbed his neck.

She pulled him towards her, and morphed into the beast that she was.
Her canine teeth lengthened, and her forehead grew outwards, making her
frown.