The Grim Reaper Contest - Closed

Her hand is cold and thin. Nothing has felt stranger than holding her hand that night, under the stars. Her skin looked like porcelain, all lit up from beneath with a sickly moon glow.
I turn towards her and watch her white lips curl into a smile. "It's a full moon," She says, turning her own moon face up to the sky.
I look upwards, too, and feel something strange stir in my chest, like an animal is slowly awakening there, claws picking at my ribs. It’s uncomfortable. I look away when my eyes start to burn. That’s never happened to me before – the moonlight was always gentle, not like the sun. But tonight, everything burns. Everything burns cold.
I want to let go of her hand but she might think it’s rude of me. I don’t know why I’m worried about being rude on this date when all the red flags are going up in my mind, telling me to get the hell out of there. But there’s something beautiful about her weird face and wiry frame, her dark matted hair and her round eyes, that makes me want to stick around and see what happens.
She stops me in the middle of the road, squeezing my hand. There’s no cars, no people. I look around frantically to try to spot some movement, anything, but there’s nothing. Just us.
“I love the night,” She murmurs to herself, and I feel out of place, hearing her talk like that. It sounds like she’s reading me parts of her diary – way too personal.
When she looks me in the eyes, I feel magnetized, electric. There’s something terribly alive about her pupils, the way they seem to ripple at the edges like a dark pool. I watch them expand, my heart beating faster, watch as her eyes go completely dark.
“Are you…okay? Your eyes…” I try to say, but I can tell she isn’t listening to me anymore. There’s silence all around us, not even the wind, and she’s listening to that instead.
I’m thoroughly spooked now, and every inch of my body aches to run. “Listen,” I start, untangling my hand from hers – I swear I feel her skin prick mine, swear I feel droplets of blood drip down the crease of my palm – “I have to go. I didn’t realize…how late it was.”
“You sure?” She asks serenely, and puts on one of those flat smiles, with those wide eyes. She looks manic. I have to get out of here, bad idea, such a bad f***ing idea.
I back away from her uncertainly, then turn around, resist the urge to run. When I’m far enough away, when my breathing isn’t as erratic, I look over my shoulder.
All I see is her dark silhouette, and these black shapes reaching out behind her, which I quickly realize are wings. Dark wings, wings with huge shining black feathers, glinting in the moonlight. She twitches them once, twice, looks up to the moon, an ecstatic grin on her face, and a moonbeam flashes down and grows brighter, swallowing her up in its luridness, and then she’s gone completely.
I can’t stop shaking until the next morning.