Sunday, February 17, 2013


The thirst beckoned. The night wind blew over Louisiana from the Gulf of Mexico. Nightwing was yet a fledgling vampire. This was hard for the night feeder to believe considering his heightened senses and strength. His mentor, Garibaldi, had warned him of the effects of drinking his aged, undead blood.
Nightwing was gaunt and pale. His silvery hair billowed in the wind of his speeding convertible. The vampire had crimson irises which he kept hidden behind circular sunglasses.
He no longer physically needed a car. The vehicle was necessary to keep up appearances. At times, still, Nightwing longed to shirk his mortal accoutrements and rise above the clouds of the New Orleans night sky.
Raquelle was near. Nightwing detected her aura amid the pulsing heat of sleeping mortals and animals. The night feeder had searched for the female vampire for a week.
Most vampires were not so hard to find within the myriad of mortals that stood out in the darkness. The thumping hearts of the humans and the fresh blood that coursed through their veins were tantalizing beacons in the world of the undead. Vampires appeared as fiery bastions of cold blood within the milieu.
Raquelle had fled from his companionship, seeking the freedom of solitude. Nightwing was not one to end a relationship on a sour note.
[He drove along the street until he found the house. He parked the car under a tree and got out. He looked at the house, and then he started up the walk. When he reached the door, he knocked and waited. After a while a woman opened the door and looked at him. They talked for a while.]
Hello, Nightwing. You must be thirsty. I can see that you haven’t fed for days. Why did you follow me?”
I was lonely and needed someone to talk with. I’ve found a killer, Raquelle. I welcome you to share the feast.”
No thank you, Nightwing. I’ve just fed on some rats. Extend your offer to our creator, Garibaldi. He doesn’t feed enough and could use the fresh blood more than I.”
Are your sure, Raquelle? The blood of such a wrong-doer is far more virile than that of these puny animals. Come with me.”
I wish to stay, Nightwing. Please don’t follow me. I will see you and our mentor again soon. Farewell.”
[Then the woman closed the door, and the man walked back to his car. He started the engine and drove away.]
Nightwing thirsted more than ever before. He regretted that Raquelle wasn’t more sociable.
She has much on her mind, he thought. The transition to the world of the vampires can be overwhelming at times.
Nightwing missed Raquelle’s company. She had been friendlier during the nights after their initiation by Garibaldi.
There’s little I can do to cheer her up, Nightwing thought. I must find Garibaldi and bring him to the feast. It is true that he doesn’t feed as much as he should
The vampire headed his car to the French Quarter and Garibaldi’s mausoleum.

1 comment:

  1. This story feels very real in regards to what Nightwing is observing about his friend Raquelle. I love the French American aspects of the setting.