FogThe thick fog slithered and wrapped its way around my bare ankles. It's icy, intertwining touch, biting as I ran. I ran as fast as I could, my chest aching and my feet stumbling in the dark. From what I was running from, I wasn't sure, but I knew I had to somehow get away from the ghostly whispers behind me.
BloodHer cold, porcelain-like face, so stark and white against her hair of onyx and red wine lips, didn't so much as make a temporary wrinkle as she opened her mouth, bearing her fangs. She timidly, yet seductively licked the plump rose. Hoping to feel life. Yearning to satisfy her starving need and desire to taste the hot, thick blood of the living.