Lorelei

The Stake & Garlic Vampire Contest  (13+) Write about vampires! :-) #377129 by Jenn

"Write a story about a vampire that doesn't drink blood- a metaphorical vampire."


Note: Lorelei (German Legend from the Rhine River Region) An enchantress who lures sailors, causing them to crash their boats onto the rocks.

Lorelei

She wove her way amid the hundreds of desperate souls rushing along the city sidewalks, pounding their way to work. Her fingers touched -- whenever it was safe -- but contact wasn’t necessary. She could imbibe without doing so; it was merely more pleasurable to feel the warmth of the frenetic, harassed bodies.

Sometimes she laughed out loud when she caught a full scene from their lives. Those were the best times. She could watch a lover’s quarrel, an accusation, a drama full of juicy moments and lurid events. But she needed to be careful. Those times when she lost herself inside life moments could be fatal for her. Yesterday a screeching taxi almost put an end to her days of memory snatching.

Lorelei decided to stretch her legs in a dash across the street. The park was where she planned to spend most of her morning. Quiet benches often allowed for the most vivid of reflections. Lorelei used her mind to scan the park. She zoned in on a couple of elderly men's fading memories. She walked toward them, anticipating the dry remnants, licking her lips. Then HE passed by.

She’d seen him off and on, usually in front of windows where he stood and stared. She’d caught a whisper several times, the tickles of interesting thoughts, but she’d never pulled in a whole scene from him. He was closed, ungiving.

Casually, Lorelei strolled closer. She was positive his thoughts would be tantalizing. She could almost taste the nectar of prime, fresh memories. She made no sound as she approached, but instantly he knew. He turned and smiled. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?” he said, half-laughing as he stared into her eyes.

Lorelei smiled back and softly swooped down inside him.

“Oh!” she cried and pulled out abruptly. Something had stung the tendrils of her mind. She looked about for the evidence of a bee, confused and thinking only of the sharpness of the prick. But, of course, there was no bee. The stinger was in his thoughts.

“What did you do?” she whispered, more for herself than for the darkly, handsome man in front of her. He stepped closer.

“Take my hand,” he said in a voice that called out with that most delightful itch of familiarity. “Touch me,” he urged.

Lorelei trembled. She stole from others, but she never gave. What was this man asking?

“I don’t know you,” she stuttered, still entrapped by the look in his green-hued eyes.

“Yes, you do. We are the same, you and I. Or at least we once were. I am called Loren. I also trace my heritage to the Rhine, for my mother was like you.”

Lorelei was suddenly plunged into deep yearnings for a river she’d never even seen. Without reason, she desired nothing more than to hear its rhythm, to feel the cold chill of its peaceful flow, to enjoy the wind on her back -- a wind full of river water. Tears stung her eyes as she ached to swim, to laugh, to sing in the Rhine River of Germany.

“What are you doing?” Lorelei cried out, suddenly understanding that HE was sending the memories to her. In fear she took a step backward. “Those are not my memories, and I didn’t . . .”

She stopped and gasped. Loren’s smile had expanded. It stretched across his face from dimple to dimple –- it was the river calling to her. Lorelei’s heart spun and dived into its depths.

“Very good,” he said as he pulled her into his arms, his night-black cape covering her trembling shoulders. He breathed in the feel of her, the touch of her memory-fat brain, her plump, soft body, and then, smiling, he dined on the flow of her sweet, warm blood.

There are vampire bats that suck blood of unsuspecting mammals, and sometimes those who walk the nights sever the last gasp of lives. But there are a different sort who walk the streets. These come in daylight, and they are the worst of the vampires, for they suck up recollections, and they feast on your life.

Lorelei was one of those until HE came.

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