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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1191724-Twas-The-Night-Of-The-Vampyre
Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Gothic · #1191724
A Gothic rendition of the Night Before Xmas
Twas the night of the Vampyre, though the date matters not,
A young, buxom virgin suffered a terrible clot.
Dressed in just stockings – her torso was bare,
She inspected her reflection, indeed with great care.
Two holes on her neck had recently bled
And nightmarish visions were trapped in her head.
Blood dreams and night terrors soon were to follow.
Her soul was once merry, but now feral and hollow.
When out on the terrace, a movement so furtive…
Quickly she dressed and called out, assertive,
“Speak to me, please. I say now, who’s there?”
At first there was no answer, then from somewhere,
“Your lily-white breasts and succulent neckline
Intrigue me severely, and soon will be mine
Forever,” the voice spoke as if adrift on the breeze.
The girl clutched herself and then fell to her knees.
A chill froze her bones; she shivered from fright,
Until she sprang to the window and closed the sash tight.
The city beyond appeared nearly black;
She stared through the panes… and then something stared back!
Her heart stopped completely, her breath in her throat;
For her dizzying head, she knew no antidote.
There on the terrace stood a man with harsh eyes.
Intensely, he stared in the light of moonrise.
He crept through the window, made nary a sound;
As if his boot heels, they hovered and never touched ground.
His skin was so pale, but in his eyes was a glint
Of the promise of life, like the cold blue of flint.
She kept backing up, away from this beast,
And clutched to her crucifix, and prayed to her priest.
He grabbed for her talisman and pulled it away,
“Why do you cower, child? Why do you pray?
If I so chose, I could bestow such a gift:
A life everlasting, no longer adrift!”
He moved in so close, he had pressed to her flesh.
Her skin was so supple and her hair smelled so fresh.
Her innocent body excited him so.
He hadn’t felt love since eons ago.
Her pouting, full lips and childlike nose
Belied the womanly breasts and thighs clad in hose.
A hunger arose from within, not bloodlust.
He traced her hips with his hands and caressed her soft bust.
He whispered in her ear – his breath was so cold,
“I would love you forever; you’ll never grow old.
I promise you faith,” he sucked on her lobe, “Eternal.
I promise you pleasures and feasts, both internal.”
The girl again shuddered, this time not from fright;
As if something much darker had revealed itself on that night.
She thought of the power and thrill of the hunt,
Though her life to that point would radically shunt.
She trembled in fear at the thought of his offer,
In conjunction with a tingling warmth at the proffer.
“Do you mean what you say? Can all this be true?”
“If you ask ‘Will I love you?’ then the answer’s ‘I do.’”
Her mind was made up, excitement barely in check,
She withdrew her lace bodice and exposed her pale neck.
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