Little One

Chapter 1
It started with a dance.

A moonlight dance under wreathes of flame and laughter. Man, woman and child locked in a mortal embrace as they twisted and turned their way in life in an unspoken and unrequited rhythm. Swaying with imbalance and weak with yearning they dodge and weave with ancient steps.

I was a young and foolish man then. The son of a rich mayor and rumoured wrongly to be betrothed in the months to come. I was a bachelor and quite content to be so.

My mother had died some matter of hours after I had been born and my father had raised me himself with the help of the maids and servants that occupied our household. And under his care and attention I had not yet ever known a shame in the world.

Sometimes he would sadly upon me. As if remembering the wife in me that he had lost in the birth. But if ever he noticed that I had caught his gaze he would laugh mightily and call the servants boys to come play with me. At times like this he would depart to his study. He would sit in there for long hours pouring over old paintings of my mother. And it was said by the servants that he would sob inconsolably during these hours.

Despite this my father never despised me or hated me. He had always loved me and made sure that every care was taken into my growing up to live up to the reputation of the mayor’s son.

The town he governed was a prosperous one. Thieves and villains were as of yet unheard of in our town and people roamed the streets in the night safe in the knowledge that there was nothing out there that could harm them in the world. It was a utopia for us all and we all loved and cared for it. Business with other towns was common and many of the businessmen were eager to stay a few nights before having to depart to their personal lifestyles.

When I had reached the age of 18 and become a man my father had been the first to insist I started drinking. It was a sociable characteristic in our town and it would do well for the mayor's son to mingle with the townsfolk to 'keep up appearances'.

And so I went out on the evening of my birthday with a few of my closest friends from the university. Laughing happily together we made our way to the town’s most famous pub, The Earl and Feather.
We all walked in amidst cheers of 'Happy Birthday' and 'God Bless Master Blake!'

Smiling contentedly I swung my way over to the bar and ordered drinks for everyone in the pub. This granted high cheers and many claps on the back in my favour. When everyone had received their drink and paid their respects the pub sank into its usual state of talk and gossip.

I nestled into this atmosphere and I and my friends all gathered as conspirators talking at great length about teachers we disliked and subjects that we deemed useless, as all students do in the world.

But during this whole time I had the nagging feeling that I was being observed during my drinking. I looked up from my drink and not a single eye was upon me save for my friends who were all talking spitefully about the new teacher who had recently taken up the English post.

And still the nagging ailed me. But I was sure that there was no one there. Yet the feeling remained and would not leave me. There was a presence in the pub and it felt cold as though some form of breeze was permanently blowing in my direction begging me to come inspect it and to succumb to it.
When the next round of drinks came in I took up my beer and near plunged into it and the feeling stopped.
Whether this was my getting drunk or whether the observer had become uninterested I wasn't sure. But with a new feeling of comfort I took up another drink and crept back into my world of gossip and intrigue.

Wandering in darkness in dark streets, an evening riot of laughter and heavy drinking, dazed and euphoric I traipsed through the alley ways without a fear in the world that anything could harm me. And why should it? I had done nothing to displease the world I lived in. And this was certainly not a place of thieves and villains.

But there are villains that are drowned in darkness much deeper. Those who, compared to themselves, darkness is a brilliant torch. The thing that fear was derived from and the thing Evil smiles to and says, 'You are my beloved creature. Take my hand. Spoil all.'

Stumbling like a new born cattle offspring I trudged my way home, there would be a fire, tea, warmth and comfort. Life's little pleasures so often taken for granted.

And then, pin pricks of cold. Faint yet obtrusive to the mind. I stretched a hand to my back and smoothed down the black silk on the waistcoat, merely a gust of wind I think to myself, start walking again.

But there, there it is again. Ever so faint yet cruelly persistent. I turned in irritation to the dark corners of the alley. Nothing, nothing but the darkness intruded only by the warming light of the fires that roared so lovingly to their owners. Again the wind must be blamed.

I turned again.

And there she was. Clad in black with her dark hair lifted by unfelt breezes. Elegantly moving to the music none could hear save herself. Her hands seemed to touch everything and at the same time withdrew from the atmosphere around her, out of place yet so desiring to belong.

With the cloak's hood positioned in that particular way it would seem to the mortal eye as though a dark Red Riding Hood had invaded your thoughts. But at the same time the eyes of the wolf marked in her face. Eyes of hunger and of wanting, with every particle of her essence she seemed to say, 'Come to me. I'm waiting.'

The feeling like that of a child washed over you. Curiosity in every limb and anticipation in the wonder of what you might receive if you would but relent to the beckoning stranger's will no matter the cost.

Ethereal in the glowing heat of fire, more enticing still under the sweet entrance of the moon, her pale skill seemingly untainted by the trials of life, as though that bridge had been avoided in the crossing and there she stood, a perfect mask of serenity and knowledge.

Her lips just barely a shade of crimson in contrast of the face, she held them in such a way as to make you want to take her, want her and need her.

Like a much beloved doll I was made slave to these attractions.

And she was there. Not a metre away. A few fingers strayed to her flowing hair and a few fingers ran through it. She was observing something. Something in my presence yet it wasn't my figure. It was something deeper. Something vital, something restrained from the outside world.

The hand was removed from her hair and she began to twirl and step to a rhythm unbeknownst to man. A sigh crept from her mouth and such a sigh paralysed. It filled the brain and seemed to sweep up your body in an instant.

And before I knew it I was there in front of her. Her eyes locked into mine and my vision was blurred save for her eyes. The wolf’s eye as it waits for its prey to signal the time is right for the kill. My mouth opened to speak but her finger pressed against my lips and she softly shook her head. No manner of words to be used.

She laid a hand on my face and caressed downwards and upwards until my head was hanging moving into the hand pleading for more. And then her hand rested on my chin and I felt my head being tilted to the left. I obeyed willingly yet some voice in my head was screaming to run. To escape this enchantress at all costs. But all voices of reason were nullified with the Kiss.

The moment beforehand seemed endless. And then a brief moment of pain as you feel two spikes embedded inside your neck. And then ecstasy as was never felt by mortal minds and souls, a felling as though you’re being drained of all you have and yet enlightened with so much more. Like a babe I was being cradled in her arms in the embrace of the Kiss.

And then pulling away, the most awful feeling of falling back to life, life, and agony and suffering.
Chocking on the floor I looked up to her and saw my blood trickling down her mouth. It dripped down her chin and onto the ground on which she stood.

And then a scratch, a small scratch made across the wrist and it began to bleed.

Understanding in the scratch, a reason for why all things are done. I knelt up and she stooped slightly so the blood was almost directly in my reach. I placed my hands on her arm and pulled the bloody scratch to my lips. And then a different quality of pleasure. As though a font of knowledge was pouring into you and all questions were answered and discarded without a second thought. Her hand ran through my hair and gripped onto me and pulled me further forwards inviting me to take more.

And then another fall, but not as nearly as lively.

Life essence fading, fading into the darkness that seemed to desperate to wrap you up in its arms and carry you away.

Then her two arms lifting me up. It was if I weighed nothing yet the feeling that I was so much more than that remained. I was unique to her. Special and wanted.

And then flight. Or at least what seemed like flight. My mortal mind told me that this was not so. It wasn't possible. Yet as I opened a dazed bleary eye I saw the high pinnacles of the buildings fly beneath us like an army of blurred demons armed with their venerable spikes. I cast another glance upwards to her face.

Effortlessly she did this. Flying through the air as if the wind would not allow her to depart with it. Her face a picture of rest and calm. She glanced down to me and gave me a warm smile yet her skin felt so cold on the nape of my neck. She planted a single kiss on my forehead and I was lost to sleep.


Chapter 2
I woke in the expectation of finding myself in my bed with fires roaring pleasantly and then expected the harsh cruel reality that the Dark Red Riding Hood would not be there.

I was indeed in a bed, but it was certainly not my own. Red satin layered me in softness. The fire crackled happily at the far end of the room. Strange, I could not feel its warmth. I summoned up the will power to remove myself from the confines of the bed and towards the fire. A hairs breadth away from it I was and still neither warmth nor comfort came from it.

I looked to my hands and found them to be strange. Not the workman’s hand I had remembered the day before, they were slender, accurate and exact. I put a hand to my face. Gone were the lines of grimaces, smiles and age. Smooth with a feeling like glass. I got up and sighted a nearby mirror. I walked in its direction and stood before it. But there was nothing, Just an empty room with the duvets askew and the fire roaring. I put a hand to the mirror yet I could see nothing in it.

Then my Dark Red Riding Hood came. She placed a hand on my shoulder and I turned obediently like a dog whose master has told it to heel. Her smile was playful yet with a hint of mystery. Like the child that knows something the parent wants to know but they wish to savour the moments of curiosity.

She caressed my face in the same way she had done last night. And in the same way my head hung. I looked imploringly at her and she smiled and turned me again to the mirror.

We were both there. My logical mind told me it must be so. But there was something wrong. Something desperately and horribly wrong, neither of us were reflected in the mirrors gaze. We were there but not there. Two phantoms in embrace.

'Can you not guess what you are Little One? The signs are there but you are confused aren't you?', she did not speak in a superior tone nor did she speak in cruel sarcasm. It was an affectionate tone. Like a mother who’s delighted in her child’s confusion so that she may have the chance to help it and give it knowledge about things it does not know.

She placed two nails against the mirror front and scraped them downwards in a lightning movement.
There seemed to be no change to the mirror and I turned to her with a questioning glass, 'What? What am I to see here?'

A sharp crack and my head whirled round again to the mirror. It was split in two the glass fragments on the floor screaming to the floor in jagged shards. A large piece scratched into my hand and drew blood. I tore the piece out and started looking desperately for something to bind it with.

She laughed and took my hand and her eyes flitted down to the hand ad then to me.

'Look.' Her hand fell from mine and I looked at the wound. There was no pain. But an odd tingling sensation was running down my arms. In a moment of miraculous horror the wound sealed up. As though stitches were being run down my arm by invisible forces.

I turned my hand this way and that expecting some trick of the light to end and then I would see the wound as it was a second ago. But there was none. Just a perfect hand with the same pale skin.

I looked to her but I found she was not there. She had disappeared again. If this was a dream it was a cruel one to tempt and torture me with the Dark Red Riding Hood.

'Up here Little One.'

My glance took flight upwards and I staggered back until I felt sharp pieces of mirror sticking into my spine. She was there on the ceiling. A flowing pool of cape and hair, her eyes locked into mine and the traces of a smile twitching at the edges of her lips. She twisted and turned on the ceiling to that same rhythm that she heard the other night and was happy.

Then darkness as my consciousness slipped away.

When I regained my senses I found myself to be in the same bed that I was in when I had woken up previously. The nightmare was far from over. A cold hand laid its fingers to my forehead and withdrew and another kiss planted itself. However this kiss did not compel me to sleep. Instead it provoked me to wake up from the bed and stand upright.

"You are both confused and scared. I know Little One. It happens to us all at the time of our Changing." Dark Red Riding Hood turned around briefly for a moment, and then stopped to give me her full attention.

She took my hand and looked into my eyes in such a way to make me feel comfortable with the position I was in. I was in the company of Dark Red Riding Hood and nothing else mattered for now. I just had one burning question that needed to be answered.

"You wish to know what you are Little One?" She placed a hand to the side of my face. I reclined into it comfortingly then looked at her again and nodded.

"You are what they living call a Damned Being. Neither living nor dead, you live forever and you depend on the blood of mortals for survival," then in a tone she had not used before which was sharp and strict, "Do you understand?"

I nodded reverently praying that her soft tone of voice would return if I did. And logic for once spoke true and her warm yet freezing smile appeared yet again and she took my hand and we walked out into what I realized was night. And as I walked through the door I understood there was no going back to the house awaiting warmth and comfort. Warmth I would never feel again and comfort was unnecessary.

I was to stay in the presence of Dark Red Riding Hood and that was comfort enough. Yet with a sense so inhumane it would pierce any mortal man's heart I came to understand that this phase was merely temporary. She would not stay in my company forever. One day she would have to leave me and then I would have to survive on my own. Like an animals mother who must leave it for it to progress in the world.

But for now no such worries had to be taken into account. I was her Little One and she was my Dark Red Riding Hood and she would stay with me until the Dreaded Time. Yet no matter how I tried to cast this unease aside I could not help but quail in sadness at the thought and so I walked alongside her in a state of sadness and with the sense that I was enjoying some kind of short lived novelty.

And then she took my hand and turned to face me, "The parting is always bitter. But it is true that I must leave you at some point in the future. When you are ready to survive without me I will fade away from your life and go about my own ways."

I looked up to her reproachfully, "And you will find another Little One won't you?"

She smiled and took both my hands in hers, "No. You shall be my first and only Little One. I have never much liked the thought of a flock of children. One and one only and you are that one, My Little One."

I smiled such a smile that I thought God may smite such a Damned Being such as I to be so happy as to feel alive in his world. But then again this was not his world. There are things beyond his creation, his control and I was one of them. A night time stalker of the heart and all it possessed. And I would do all of this with my beloved Dark Red Riding Hood.

"Time to feed Little One."