Thirst drives us on, pushes us further and further from where we belong.
It gets harder and harder to feast, to drink , to slake our thirst.
We are too well known, our habits too well described, our faces on every teenage book worms shelf.
Darkness, our natural habitat is vanishing, I blame 24 hr culture, shopping malls, street lights. When did you last see a darkening alleyway, damp with moss, the very walls redolent with fear.
And even when there is some semblance of gloom, a hint of menace, an alcove just right for a cloaked figure to make an entrance, the streets are empty.
I see them, white necks illuminated by the lights from a 1000 screens, safely indoors, whilst I and my kind hungrily prowl the streets.
So, another tack, an approach for the 21st century. I am saddened to say goodbye to virginal necks, to soft pale flesh but at least I will avoid that crushing shame when they look at me, not with heaving bosom terror but a quiet disappointment that I am simply not quite Edward enough.
So, this pub, dark enough to meet my needs, no cable TV, no shelf of books, no WIFI signs. No danger of vampire savvy ness here.
I’ve already bought him 2 beers, tried not to stare as his Adams apple convulses as the drink slips down.
He stands, ready to leave, I put out my hand, skin translucent, cold to the touch.
“now how about another drink, I’ m as thirsty as hell”.