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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Supernatural · #2138214
Two old Vampires discuss the blood supply. - - 467 words
Word count: 467


         Albion sat comfortably in the overstuffed wing chair next to the fireplace. Across from him sat his old friend, Thorn. They had been friends for at least two-hundred years. The fire in the fireplace reflected in their deep black eyes. Their pale skin absorbing the colors of the night like a fog. They were old, this much could be seen in their composure. They had seen so much in their time. Changes, not always good ones. Anymore seldom good ones.

         Albion lifted his crystal glass to his blood-drenched mouth and took a sip. "Ahh, my friend, I can remember when we didn't have to search so hard for good blood. When we could pick and choose only the best."

         "Yes, that is true, but anymore we take what we can get. So much of it is tainted." Thorn mused.

          "When was it that so many people started taking drugs?" Albion pondered more to himself than to his friend.

         "When it was just the junkies it was easy to avoid the tainted blood. Then, then it seemed like everyone started it. They just don't know what some of the drugs do to us" Thorn said with a little more force than necessary.

          "I used to love the blood of diabetics though. So sweet. Almost like candy. Now, though, so many of them are taking drugs to control their blood sugar. Not only is the sweetness gone but Metformin gives me the shits. What I once sought out now I avoid." Albion took another sip from his glass.

         "True, true, does the same to me and don't get me started on psychotropic drugs. I remember the first time I took a sip from a girl, back in 1967 I believe it was, she was high on LSD. Talk about a trip. Now though, it seems everyone is on mood elevators, anti-depressants or some such other mood-altering drug." Thorn took a sip from his glass and sighed.

         "Yes, my friend, it used to be that we just had to find a younger donor but anymore even that isn't foolproof. Parents are putting their kids on drugs at earlier and earlier ages."

         Thorn sighed, "And for what? Because the 7-year-old doesn't like green beans? Well now, that's as good as a reason as any. After all, he is uncontrollable, he won't eat what I tell him." Thorn's voice mocked middle American Mothers.

         "I can see it now." Albion mused,"We, as a species, die out from a lack of palatable blood. For thousands of years our kind has managed and adapted, but now. Look at we are reduced to." He gestured to the lifeless body of a 4-year-old girl on the floor in front of the fire. Puncture wounds on both sides of her neck.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2138214