Walking In The Day

Walking In The Day - Dark Ridge

Sarah Covington held her best friend, Miranda Ambroise's hand. The labor had been going on for hours and Miranda was weakening.

"Promise me, you'll take care of her," pleaded Miranda.

" 'Rand," said Sarah calmly. "You are going to be fine."

It was an assurance that Sarah wasn't sure she meant. The blood loss had been tremendous, and the position of the baby wouldn't allow for a C-Section. Sarah's warm eyes flickered to meet the attending doctors and the look gave Sarah pause.

As a medical student, Sarah had seen a lot, but never something this grave. Her best friend, whose husband had left Miranda on their wedding night with no explanation, the woman who'd been Sarah's rock throughout school, was here on this table, maybe dying. Miranda later learned that she was pregnant with his child and now it was Sarah's turn to be a rock for Miranda.

"He wasn't right," broke down Miranda.

Sarah grimaced, sure that the drugs and the pain was getting to Miranda finally. A wave of contractions washed over Miranda.

"Miranda, we need to make a decision," began the doctor who was perched between Miranda's legs.

"No! Save her, save, Kameron. Sarah swear to me that you won't let them hurt her, she's mine, my baby and I'd rather die than not allow her to live," cried Miranda. The distraught mother to be, her straw colored hair and hazel eyes were serious, pulled Sarah closer. "Sarah, he wasn't my husband, he was something different."

Sarah stood, brushing Sarah's hair away from her sweaty face. "You have no clue what you are saying. There are no such things as what you said he was."

"Sarah," begged Miranda. "I know what he was, I saw, I saw the...teeth and he had no soul, Sarah."

Sarah was about to argue, again, that Miranda had been seeing things, or had been too drunk, but before she could utter another word, Miranda flat lined.

WiTD

The wind blew the leaves around her feet as she stood in the middle of the shadowy clearing a few miles behind her home. Nestled in the thick forest on the outskirts a town aptly named Dark Ridge, the small virtually bloodless creatures around her muttered their morning song. The sun, which began to crest the mountains, warmed the cool earth and a soft grey mist emanated from the ground. The smell of the forest drifted to her nostrils, but it wasn't the smell she neither longed nor sought. Face turned up, she smelled the air again, ignoring the scent of tress and earth, nostrils flaring, silken golden hair cascading over her shoulders. Tall, almost regal looking, an air of royalty haloed her, and something even more primal - danger. 

A feral look crossed her face as the scent she was looking for found her over the cooling winds of the late summer. She let the smell wash over her, listening to the faint thumping sound of a heart about a quarter of a mile away. Yes, there thump, thump, thump, a peaceful beat rouse her into an adrenaline-filled heat. Cotton candy colored lips parted - teeth a brilliant, almost inhuman, dazzling whiten, revealing the subtle fangs that had graced her since birth. It was predawn - the world stood still. She was a dazzling creature who preferred dusk to dawn, yet here she was in the waning hours of the night - hunting.

"Blood."

The word fell dead on the pine needles that carpeted the floor of the forest. She turned, one fluid - almost inhuman - movement, her right hand grazing the ground as she dashed off after her prey. Her feet didn't pound the earth as they should, instead they almost floated over it, the movements so fast that the leaves barely moved as her legs drove forward.

Leaping up, she grabbed a tree branch to vault the ruined rubble of an old abandoned car, swinging with acrobatic ease and landed on the car. She perched on it her usually clear blue eyes had bled free of their color and now they were white as the driven snow that would cover the ground in two months time.

Her prey knew something was hunting it, so Kameron crouched statue like on the rusted car hood. She forced her heart to slow, matching the rhythm of her preys. Then the prey moved and Kameron exploded forward - it was time to feed.

WitD

"I hate you," said Peyton with a venom that rang true to her father's ears. It wasn't a yell, per say, but it was a hard biting tone. This had been the status quo for weeks now, ever since Peyton had come home. Then home, the location, had changed. Then the repertoire had become even more deadly sounding, curse words now usually peppered the tirade. It was mild this morning, thought Jonathan.