Dressed As Dark As The Night

I turned on the evening news only to see one of the biggest secrets of my life playing out before my eyes.1 Not much shocked me anymore; the feeling felt alien to me, which I believe is why I continued to
sit there in stunned silence with my mouth slightly unhinged.

“How did they figure it out?” I’ve always been so careful, meticulously choosing my victims to lessen the chances of being caught.

Outside in the dark night, tires screeched in front of my house. With my exceptional hearing, I quickly counted the number of doors opening and closing as I swiftly moved silently through my dwelling. Luckily for me, prior2 to turning on the news, I had showered and dressed in my favorite tight black hunting outfit. It hugged my five-foot-two frame like a second skin, with the chest portion purposely supported to keep my breasts in place while running. Of course, nothing could hide my blond hair or pale face, so I had attached a hood and face covering too.

Once in the kitchen, I dropped to the floor and slid my fingers under the refrigerator for a small latch; it only took a second before my probing index finger found it, hooked around the metal clip, and pulled it down. I could hear the people fanning out around the house. Twelve heartbeats thumping heavily in the night, their adrenaline and fear causing their veins to plump up fatter to handle the increased blood flow. I licked my lips slowly. The latch issued a small audible click, and I pulled the stainless steel refrigerator forward effortlessly; then, it swung out at a forty-five-degree angle, exposing a black
square hole in the floor.

Moving swiftly, I hurried down the first three steps and yanked the refrigerator back. It moved silently on its tracks, reached the end, and settled back onto the floor. The latch issued a meaningless click as the front and back doors slammed open. A deep male voice bellowed, “FBI.”

I saw a pair of shoes pass the refrigerator via the vent holes. “For freakingsakes, Harold! Turn off that light.” The man’s voice quivered like a frightened cartoon3 character would. Similar to Shaggy’s voice.

“It’s not a light,” Harold hiss backed. “It’s my necklace! It’s glowing, and it’s hot!”

The other man gulped loudly. Yes, just like Shaggy would. “Man, I don’t wanna be here.”

A nearly silent snicker4 escaped me as I smiled. The FBI didn’t take the entire story literally, or they
would have come during the day. During a loud commotion in the other room, I closed the steel hatch and slid two four-inch steel rods to fasten it. If they did discover my emergency exit, it would take time for them to open it.

If it wasn’t for the heat they were packing, I would have stayed to enjoy taking them all down. It is always fun5 toying with men; my petite body nicely hides the tiger in me. But when humans invented firearms, my life became more and more difficult. Not that a bullet would kill me, but lots of bullets would slow me down. Enough to catch me, maybe not keep me for long, just perhaps long enough to take tests as I healed. I had more pleasure with the colonials at the end of the 1600s in Salem when they chased me with torches and pitchforks. The mob was stunned when the hunters became the prey. None of them made it out of the forest.

I found myself calm and hungry as I exited the tunnel a mile away; the cool, salty ocean breeze caressed my face. Dressed as dark as the night, I headed into a nearby campground to find a specimen full of warm blood. My fangs started to grow with the thought of it.

  1. Fandango’s Story Starter #61
  2. FOWC with Fandango — Prior
  3. Three Things Challenge #M71 cartoon
  4. Three Things Challenge #M71
  5. Three Things Challenge #M71

Special thanks to Lauren and Fandango for helping me get back into writing.

4 thoughts on “Dressed As Dark As The Night

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s