. . . with Thomas

"But I love you," he said, as his eyes glistened with tears and emotion.

"Yes, and I love you. Love is such a big word, couldn't 'love' allow us our space, to travel back and forth? To leave and to return?"

"Dev, I want to live with you. To be apart is, is maddening."

"Thomas, look at your hand. Tell me, what is the most important part of it."

"Uh, the fingers. So?"

"Now, what is the most important part of the fingers?"

". . . ?"

"The space between them, Thomas. Like the space between us. We need the space or I would consume you, until you were empty, and it has started already," she said and watched him under her long eyelashes as he began to puff and fume.

"No, I won't accept that. You Are Mine," and he rushed her. The Vampire extended one arm, a hand, five fingers and he stopped as if he had run into a brick wall. Before he could fall or rebound she grasped him by the collar and held him and slowly lifted him off his feet. His eyes slowly returned as if from a great distance and he beheld her in shock and increasing horror.

"My God, let me down - let me go!"

"Let you go, is it now? Is it too much too soon? I told you what I was when we met, didn't I?"

"Let me down! Yes, but a 'vampire'?"

"In a world of lies, who believes the truth." Devalia sighed, and dropped him. He scurried backwards on feet and hands, butt and elbows.

"Then your age, those stories - these're all true?"

"Yeah, every word. You needed much more time and distance to be carefully . . . "

" . . . I will be careful alright," he said as he reached the door and slammed it as he bolted out.

The woods are beautiful, dark and deep . . .

I am immortal unless some clever person finds a way to correct that, and no one has for 455 years, so I do enjoy to take the occasional chance.

The woods near where I live are vast and the dense green canopy of the coastal Redwood trees provide me enough shade from the curse of direct sunlight. "It Burns" indeed, as the line in the movie goes. At night I bathe in the darkness itself, and let it roll over me and bleach my flesh a whiter shade of pale. The early morning or the time near sunset are also pleasant. I recall one evening as I wandered in the hills.

I was feeling frisky. Vampires, 'frisky'? Sure, why not . . . mere humans often are dark and brooding, so we can just as well be frisky. I was deep in the woods and I let my hair down and simply draped my long black ribbon onto a low shrub and stopped to admire this casual effect. Further along the trail I removed my white blouse and dropped this too on the trail, although I did position one sleeve as an arm to indicate a direction.

I love the feeling of the air, especially the thick and subtle breezes of the forest against my bare flesh, its soft caresses, as I move. I removed my bra and hung it gently from the low branch of a tree. Not as obvious I suppose, the lovely purple floral patterns against the greens and shadow, was a little more difficult to notice, but to see it there was nice. I was brushing my fingertips gently against my nipples and I was finding this entire excursion to be highly erotic.

I continued walking and looking around. Animals for the most part sense me and tend to quickly leave. Predators, you know, have a certain 'aura' about them, and the wise in the forest tend to remove themselves. Once, while following a fascinating scent of fresh blood I discovered a mountain lion with its fangs deep into the throat of a deer that was still quivering in its death throes. I walked up slowly and stared. The cat released the deer, lowered its head and ears flattening itself against the carpet of thick redwood needles. It let out the most amazing sound, like the cross between a howl and a hiss and backed away. I stamped my foot and the poor thing took off like a rocket. Your mileage may vary of course. I remember dabbing a finger in the deer's blood and watching its eyes lose the spark of life. The deer seemed more disturbed by my presence than its death by the mountain lion. I left the carcass for the cat that I believe eventually returned.

I was deep into my walk and my clothing now was stretched out over, oh, two miles of trail. I unzipped and stepped out of my skirt and carefully cast it upon an outcrop of rock. I loved that skirt and it was still rather new to my collection. I have my favorites as I'm sure we all do, yes? Bras and skirts are special. The fit, the look and feel, as well as the looks that I receive. I am vain, and I will be the first to point this out, although I must also say that it is not the fault I am most known for - but then I digress.

I can walk in high heels endlessly. Try it. You can't can you? I can drift along as light as a feather and the leather soles of my shoes never be scuffed, and I can equally plant myself so that a car might not budge me. Sharp objects, true, are a caution, and if pegged in place I would be helpless until the stake rotted away, which could take years to decades. So I left my black strappy heels nicely paired next to each other and continued to walk a short distance until I found the right redwood.

I slipped out of my silk panties and twisted them in my hands as I looked up at a branch just out of reach, about 8 feet above the forest floor. It had snapped off and was at the correct angle just tilting up. Silk itself is quite strong and I wrapped these around my wrists and tightened them with my teeth, effectively binding myself. I then leaned my back against the tree and shimmied up. Try it, find a wall, place your butt against it, and then lift one foot and place it just below your butt. Now the other. Now shimmy up. Oh, use your hands if you must.

I looped my bound wrists over the branch and I now looked for all intents as a woman that was stripped over the course of three miles and hung from the branch of a tree for some most likely nefarious purpose. Well, yes of course, but the nefarious purpose was entirely my own I assure you.

My feet dangled just off the ground and my bound wrists suspended me. My long black hair hung down to almost my waist and the breezes that came along to see what I was up to gently moved my hair against my skin and nipples. I made myself light and I drifted slightly in the breeze and waited.

The evening sky was slowly taking over completely from that of the day, and I could feel the stars come out by the cold and piercing light that they render. Often when I wait, I will recite memorized poetry in my mind. I was working through Coleridge, 'The Rime of the Ancient Mariner', a pleasant lyric piece, when off in the distance, about a mile back down the path, I heard the sounds of someone moving and immediately focused on this. Perhaps an intruder. Oh, goody.

A young man appeared, he had gallantly collected all of my apparel from along the trail. Even my bra.

"My God! Are you alright?!" He exclaimed, and placed my folded clothing on a nearby stone.

" . . . Because he knows, a frightful fiend, Doth close behind him tread. . . ."

"What?"

"Oh, Coleridge. I love his work. Don't you?"

"Be still, I'll get you down."

He grabbed me around the waist, to lift me down I suppose, but as soon as he did I wrapped my legs around his chest and pinned him to the ground. I tore my silk binding from my wrists in a smooth fluid motion and held his arms to his sides. My breasts hung in his face and he didn't appear to know whether to look at my breasts, my eyes, or my rapidly lengthening teeth.

"My God!" he cried, again.

"You and 'God', are on some sort of first name basis? What does he call you?"

"J-John," he stammered, as he watched my breasts swaying with a little assistance from me. Predictable. I pinned his arms down with my shins, and began to gently pull up on his T-Shirt with one hand and with a long razor sharp fingernail of the other, slice open the shirt. He didn't notice this until I pressed against my bare flesh against his.

"Holy Crap! How'd you do that? Get off me! What're you gonna do?"

"Well J-John, whatever I like, and I think I'd like to have you for dinner. Now."

I lowered my lips and dryly brushed against his and I felt him relax. His alarm was assuaged for a moment until my tongue extended. A Vampire's tongue is a trifle longer than a human tongue, and mine is a tad longer than that of many Vampires. About eight inches longer. He was so frightened by this, he never noticed my nail piercing the side of his neck and the ensuing spurting of his blood, but I did.

I don't know why men get hard as death approaches, 'Petite Mort' and 'Grande Mort' I guess. I rolled into his erection as I sucked on his neck, and I could feel him pant into this. There is never really enough time to undo the pants at this point and slip it in. I've tried, but it never seems to work, so I maintained a slow dry hump. If you time it just right, it can be perfect.

He shuddered and gently came and his blood ceased flowing shortly thereafter, and I stood up. My folded clothes (thank you J-John) were close by, so I gathered these, and in a nearby hollow of a tree I found a handful of water and used this to remove the blood from my face and neck. As I returned I found a mountain lion standing over him. I turned and walked away. I didn't think that cat would follow me if I dropped anything, unless it was fresh meat.

Have you been good?

Will you be good? Will I do all the things that I want to, to you, today?

Turn away from me . . . yes do it. Show me your back, and I will let your skin crawl as I step up to you so silent on little cat feet. Be still as I sway behind you, as I brush my nipples against your back in a steady rocking motion, as I let my senses writhe within me and churn this yearning for your bare warm flesh to drive me a little wilder, a little closer, a little further out than I was before.

I can smell the lovely warmth as it rises from you, and the way your hair is catching your scent and calling me to caress you. My hands tremble just before they connect to your shoulders, and softly I nuzzle your neck, and brush my lips along the lines of your throat. My Gawd, you are so good, so very good, so very . . . that.

I trace the length of your arms with my palms open, and my tremble now is a tremor that seems to be shifting my foundation to unsettled, to un-sane, to what I want from you, all the things I want to do to you, and I grip your wrists and bring them together behind your back in one hand, and my other hand with a mind of its own (yes, it does have, and so and so) finds your belly and drifts like Columbus across the sea to discover a new land and take what any explorer would. "I own what I find," I think to myself, and I am greedy to discover all that this new land has to offer to me.

Buttons and blouses and necklines are torn from cloth . . . you tense and resist - good, you are paying attention, but see me not here now behind you. Think of it as a mystery that your clothes rend and leave you, that your hands may not move, that I find your neck and warmly breathe and wetly feel, and calmly bring us closer together. My desire for you ties us physically, psychically, with lines of life and lines of blood. My desire for you is a fledgling deity to be worshiped with blessing, or scorned and be damned. Decisions, decisions . . .

My razor-sharp nails slice gently your skin, and fine warm tricklets softly rise. My long tongue reaches out and my bliss begins, your hands bound behind you as I reach and caress you in soft and warm places that lovers know, that you know, and I know now too.

My tremors now shake me, and I am dislodged. You flush as do I, your body is racked with desire and inflamed as I am, oh as I. Your blood now so wet and rich and flowing, my lips are so red . . . kiss me, turn and see me, turn and take me with your mouth your lips, oh my love Oh My Love.

Have you been good? Have you missed me? Do I surprise you? Speak to me, move . . . say something. Oh, my love . . . .

Shadows Cast :: Ch.1 : Dead End

The Dead End was a tavern at the bottom of a hill next to the last pier of the harbor. It got its name for a number of reasons. The most obvious was that the cobbled road ended there. But the hill was a hazard for a cart with a startled horse, and well more than one cart had ended pushing a panicked animal deep into the lake's mud below the pier. Suicides as well found the comfort of the waters when all other recourse failed.

"Ha! You lose again!"

The dice came up wrong, and his loss was doubled, and now he owed more than a season's wages. Will's face sank as he watched the dice settle into the eyes of the snake once more, and his fingers twitched as if to recall the toss but to no avail.

"My God," muttered Will, "oh my God."

"Well, my friend, you know that you can recover what you owe. It is very simple - here," and the dice were handed back. Will's hand twitched again, and he was startled to find the dice there. The dice rattled in his large hand and again flew.

"Ha! Luck is rarely consistent, but yours is consistently bad! Ha ha ha."

The laughter and voices rang in his head. He came into the tavern to drink and talk and he knew he should not gamble. The losses and attempts at recovery were compounded until now he owed half a years income. He was ruined and his young life was over. The dice were passed to him again, but this time his hand did not move.

"What? No more play? What good are you? Well, now you need to make good. Oh, if you're not drinking that ale I believe that I'll take it."

Will moved in slow motion to the door and stepped outside.

"Here now, don't go too far. I want to see you. You Owe Me, and I will be paid. I know where you live, and all these good men are my witnesses! Ha ha ha . . . "

Will heard but didn't hear. He moved without moving to the pier and peered into the black waters, possibly for a solution to his problems. And unseen eyes peered at him.

Above in the dark of the night skies on huge leathery wings a pair of coal red eyes tracked him. Her long black hair floated in the updraft from the land and moved back and forth with the beat of her wings. In her huge bat-like form Devalia was nightmarish. A pale naked thing, winged half human with long legs ending in the claws of a huge bird of prey. She loomed silent and surveyed the grounds about him and then folded her wings close to her bare body to silently dive and to take him from behind.

Will had climbed to the top of one of the piles that supported the pier and tottered as he weighed his alternatives when the solution to his problems struck and pulled him up into the night sky. His screams were loud and long when Devalia struck, grasping him in her talons and pulling his writhing form against her. Her wings beat furiously to lift this new weight of the young man, and one shoe fell from his foot and landed with an unheard splash in the black water to float and bob.

The Dead End emptied onto the pier the men rushing out and the few women that were there simply remaining near the relative safety of the open door.

"There! Look! It's Will's shoe!"
"Where's his foot?"
"Is it in the shoe?"
"What!? His foot!? You found his foot!?" Someone screamed from the doorway.

A sudden splash as the other shoe fell from somewhere far above in the night sky brought a sudden silence to the crowd as all eyes turned upwards in amazement, and the crowd slowed backed back into the relative safety of the Dead End.

Devalia held Will in the iron grip of her taloned feet, and tore his shirt from his chest with her slender steely fingers. Will's legs furiously pumped in the air to no avail as she brought him closer to her open mouth and higher into the sky.

"My God! What are you?" He cried into the glowing red eyes.
"Hungry," she replied, "and you are mine.
"Take me then, and have done. I am ruined, and death will be my rest."
"Rest? Do you think that 'death' is a rest?" Devalia shrieked and laughed, "let me see you, my fine young man, let me see if I may extend the pleasure that I may take from you, and tell me if death is anything that you may consider restful." She tore the remainder of his garments from him and his naked body was now pressed against her's.

"What the . . . Holy Crap! What out of Hell are you?!" He cried out again, as she sank her lengthening teeth into his the side of his neck. His blood spurted rich and red and pumped down her throat as she fed. His thrashings slowed as his death approached, and she pulled back and clasped a hand over the twin wounds in his neck.

"Want to live? Want to continue? Death is not an end, and life need not end here. Say 'yes' and you will live. Nod, blink once, but do it now!"

Will's head bobbed and the desire for life was in his eyes. Devalia slid a razor sharp nail against her own throat and there the skin parted. At first nothing, but then a trickle of blood emerged followed by a thick red rope of fluid. She pulled his face to this turgid flow.

"Drink this - Do it!"

He moved his listless tongue against her throat and found the blood. Slowly as his body went limp his mouth moved more and more with a purpose until he grasped her in his arms and wrapped his legs around her waist.

"Ah! Ha ha ha haa!" Devalia shrieked in a crazed joy as she felt this new life enter him, and as this life entered him, she felt his manhood grow against her with a new vitality and she guided him to enter her in midflight and the struggle of life began anew for this new predator. Born into the world naked and craving, and rather then exiting a womb, entering one.

Now she flew and he held on to her, as he drank from her neck and thrust into her sex, towards the middle of the lake.

The Cliff

The doorbell, a knock, a bright and sunny day, a dark and stormy night. But right now the sun is setting, and the oranges and pinks of the evening sky promise a bright and sunny tomorrow. Drat.

I answer the door, and I find my Falyn. She is wearing beige slacks and a white blouse, her brown hair is loose about her shoulders. I stay out of the direct sunlight, of course, but she lingers on the step, almost hesitant.

"Hi, I'm happy to see you," and now I see that she will not look me in the eyes.

"You really should move closer to town, the drive here is terrible."

"Oh, I thought you liked the 'seclusion' here." Something is up.

"I do, I really do, but can you be 'secluded' closer?"

"Hmm. So, tell me what's up?"

"Umm, nothing's up. Why do you . . . "

". . . you're leaving me, aren't you."

"No, I'm . . . what? Dev, how did . . . I mean, uh . . . "

I stray briefly, very briefly, into the weak rays of the setting sun to take Falyn's warm hand and pull her gently inside and I see she's distraught. This is never easy for anyone, but I know how to make it easier. Well, for one of us at least.

"Walk with me. I'm having the terrace finished. It was old you know and I worried about someone, someone like you, getting hurt."

"Ooh, the view there is great. Uh, my hand . . . ?"

"I want to hold your hand," I say, musically, "may I?"

"Yes, Dev, you don't have to ask . . . "

" . . . "

The terrace is at the back of the old stone manse that I own. We walk through halls that she and I had spent so much time wandering and discovering each other, through the long gallery that borders an enclosed garden that fills with sunlight and birds during the day and that I know that she loves. And doors, endless doors that open and close, putting things into rooms. Beginnings and their endings.

We arrived on the terrace. The sun had safely set, for me, and the shadows seemed to well forth from the vast crevasse beyond and below the terrace. A large part of the balcony that was unsafe was removed, and where the terrace ended was simply a long drop. The poor condition of the short wall gave the illusion of safety, but to lean against it could very well be fatal.

"The balcony is gone. Wow . . . "

"It's safer this way. The workers really just pushed it and it went." Falyn and I walk to the edge, and the drop is at least 200 meters straight down to rocks and a fast moving river. Anything that would go over the side would either never be found or found washed up on a beach somewhere on the Pacific coast. Falyn steps forward and peers over the side, and I step forward and stand behind her. She turns, to see me.

"So, you're leaving me. You know how I feel about you."

"Yeah, Dev can I get away from the edge here?" She steps toward me and I step towards her and she is cornered with her back to a wall, or more precisely a cliff.

"Should I let you go, can I let you go, do I want to let you go, " I muse and I gaze down at her feet and I press a step forward, and she edges back half a step closer to the edge. I can sense her panic rising with the feel of the sheer drop behind her.

"No, Dev, I'm not. No, I'll never leave you, honest," she says, her eyes wide now with fright.

"Falyn, don't say what I know's not true, and now dear, " and I take a full step towards her. She has no where to go, and so she throws herself onto me, her arms around my neck and she is fully sobbing. My heart is breaking, and I nuzzle into her, her hair, her neck, her lovely scent.

"Don't Dev, Please ... Don't."

"Don't what? My Love, oh My Love? What should I 'don't' ?"

I am an immortal, or effectively so. I will not die unless killed, and I cannot be moved by the living. If I stand, there I will remain. Falyn was fully shaking and in a cold sweat, as I slowly disentangled her arms from me just enough to hold her, just at about half an arm's distance. She and I and a precipice that is so very close.

"Falyn," I said, holding her, and gazing into her eyes, "this is goodbye then, yes?"

" . . . Devalia . . . " she said in a very small voice.

"Then Falyn, goodbye." I let her go.

I stepped aside and she bolted past me and flew through the house. In the distant rooms of my home I heard doors opened and then banged. I sat down on a piece of masonry. A car started, Falyn's car, and I heard the far away sound of gravel flying under wheels, and felt my tears as they fell from my eyes.

She will be fine now, or in a day or so. Breaking up is never easy, but now it is easier for her. But for me, my loneliness is compounded by longevity. To fall for someone and know they have left you and then to let them go never becomes easier with time, but what does is knowing what to do and what not to do.

I gaze out over the edge into the dark depths of the distant river, alone again, forever always.

Goodbye Falyn.