Writing Challenge 4 - Entry 2

The forest moon was shrouded in dense cloud, its rays barely illuminating the ground below. Barren branches stretched out from the trees like the arms of tormented spirits, foliage stripped from the bark by the harshness of winter. The mist drifted through the woodland, its ghostly fingers gliding along the dormant shrubbery and leaving little droplets of water upon everything it touched.

Brittle twigs crunched under a heavy boot, its partner slow to follow as the owner furtively looked around. Large green eyes darted about nervously as her head turned this way and that, her leather coat zipped up to the collar in an effort to shut out the cold. Pale hands garnished with black painted nails rose to her blood red lips, from which escaped a puff of white vapour that mingled with its larger form still lingering in the air. Her ebony hair lay fast against her face, saturated by the dampness of the haze pervading the atmosphere and now invading her lungs through every breath she took. Her jaw quaked with the cold as she trod tentatively through the dormant forest, wishing that she at least had a torch to aid her hampered vision.

Fingers that were almost white parted the branches some way off. Crimson eyes hungrily studied the woman as she walked, a tongue flickering across his lips as their corners upturned into a little smile.

“Great,” she cursed as she looked around, “What a night to get lost.”
“You’re telling me.”
She gave a little gasp as she turned around, her heart skipping a beat. He came unexpected, so quietly she hadn’t even heard him approach.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“Names aren’t important,” came the ominous reply as he drew closer. Before she could do anything his hand was upon her throat, roughly pulling her towards him. His grip was tight enough to cut off her ability to speak, the only voice she had left was in her eyes as they gazed pleadingly up at the imposing figure.

He wasted no more words, effortlessly hauling her to his level and pulling at her head to expose her pale throat. His mouth clamped firmly upon the side of her neck, his extended canines slicing neatly through the delicate flesh and piercing the jugular vein. The crimson river burst its banks, filling his mouth with the bittersweet taste of her blood as he began to drink.

“Ah, that’s better,” he smiled, tossing the lifeless body aside. His tongue mopped up the traces of deep red fluid about his mouth, his head tilted briefly to the side as he gazed upon the form spread along the ground.
“Shame really,” he mused with a playful air, “She was so pretty.”