The Short Stories of Harry Styles

A Feast of Flowers: Part 1

"Henry," he clears his throat, once...twice...," I asked you a question, brother." That seems to pull Henry out of his stupor and finally glances at him in the mirror, clapping a hand on his shoulder at the same time.

"Oh, yes. Mr. Styles here, he and I met just outside of my flat at the university." This slightly appeases Danny. A name. Finally. 

The sound of a train echoes over the noisy engine of their car. Danny hadn't realized they were running so far behind schedule. Their father will be furious. The night train was never early, never late, it was always on time...so that meant...

"Henry, father is going to kill us." He lets out a strained laugh and Henry leans back in his seat, his eyes once more fixated on his friend.

"Why?" 

The train whistles in the distance and Danny knows they won't be able to reach the tracks in time to cross so he lets out a defeated breath. No point in pushing the car to its brink now, might as well chug along and wait it out. 

The night is crisp and bathed in blue from the moon shining brightly above. Stars flicker and this far from the city, you can almost see the Milky Way. 

"So, Mr. Styles, are you a student then as well?" Danny asks, just trying to make conversation as he sees the tracks splitting the road up ahead. 

Silence.

"No. I am not."

The voice is deep. Unhurried. Lazy almost and languid. Free floating and slithering.

Something is not right.

Danny draws the car to a stop several feet before the tracks, the sounds of the train barreling its way towards them grows louder with every minute that passes. He lifts his gaze to the rearview mirror and the stranger is once more covered in shadow. 

"Then why were you outside of his flat on campus?" The silence is now so thick that Danny can't help but feel frozen. There is a sick feeling that is filling up his guts and it is radiating through his entire being, freezing him in place, his knuckles white as they grip the steering wheel.

The train's whistle grows louder the closer it gets, the tracks against its wheels now starting to screech as it slows down to cross over the road.

"Danny, I meant we just met. Just now." 

Danny's heart bottoms out into his stomach at his brother's revelations. The stranger leans forward, his beautiful face highlighted by the moonlight once more and this time he is smiling.

"What do you want..." Danny manages out in-between fast breaths, his mind trying to catch up with the situation they have somehow found themselves in. Danny's mind trying to understand why Henry is still looking at this Mr. Styles like he hung the heavens himself. 

The stranger only continues to smile as he reaches a hand forward and grips Danny's upper arm. He feels something sharp shred through the fine cloth of his suit jacket. Then...there's a ripping sound. 

The stranger says nothing, only glances down at the small amount of skin now showing on Danny's arm before leisurely leaning forward even more to place his cold lips against his flesh. Danny sucks in a deep breath. Terrified. Absolutely horrified by what is happening because what is happening?

His brother is still sitting in the back, transfixed by his new friend when Danny feels a sharp pinch where the stranger's mouth had just been. 

It's an automatic reaction to jerk yourself away from the feeling of pain and that is what Danny does. He yanks his arm so hard but the stranger holds on with a strength that almost pulls Danny's shoulder from the joint. The pain is then replaced with something that feels akin to fire.

Danny is screaming.

The stranger pulls back, Danny grips his arm, Henry laughs, Henry screams, once white teeth gleam red in the moonlight.

The train whistle echoes closer.

Danny is frozen. He cannot move.

His last thoughts are of his sister. Of his dear Annaleise, and whether she will ever find their bodies.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The stranger rolls the black car onto the train tracks. His veins full of the blood he'd needed to give him strength, strength enough to take care of the scene. 

He didn't enjoy what he'd done. Not really. 

It's just...he was hungry. He was always hungry but this time their scent, their blood had called to him. He'd needed it, at least, that's what he told himself in these moments. 

The stranger felt warm, like he always did when he fed, and it made him feel strangely human every time. He wasn't sure he missed it, being human. He did miss the conversations, the dancing, the parties, the feeling of meeting someone for the first time and the potential to fall in love with them.

Sure, he missed that, but he didn't miss the ailments. The sickness. The pain. The fear.

No, as the stranger walks away just as the night train careens into the car, a loud explosion the only other sound beyond the trains incessant whistle, he doesn't miss the fear at all. 

The stranger turns back only once to see fire and sparks before turning his attention to the road. Danny and Henry would have felt fear but the poison in his bite paralyzed them enough that they might not have felt anything in the end. He wanted to give them that at least. 

The stranger didn't enjoy their suffering. Not really. 

A phantom wind floats through the trees and brings with it a scent that the stranger thought he'd just ended. That he'd just gorged himself upon.

But, there it is, even stronger than it'd been in the car with the two brothers. 

One word flashes in his mind.

Annaleise.

He puts his hands in his pockets, a knowing grin pulling onto his decadent lips, and meanders down the dirt road to the echoes of a party where he knows he'll find Miss Annaleise.