Nocturnal

"In other news, over the past week there have been a series of local murders that have raised the suspicions of the police. Jacob Fisher is here with the Chief of Police Jack Mally, Jacob?"

"So Chief Mally, what do you have to say about these recent murders?

"Well, we've been hesitant to call them the work of a serial killer but that's what they seem to be. All of the victims were killed in their homes in the middle of the night. There was no sign of a struggle at any of the scenes which is pretty uncommon for murder scenes. And the M.O of the killer seems to be to punch a small hole in the jugular vein and drain the victim of their blood. No physical evidence has been found at any of the three scenes, giving us nothing to go on, but we're still investigating."

"So there you have it people, the first serial killer to terrorize our small town since its founding. What a sad time we live in. Back to you Rebecca."
"Now for the wea-"

The TV flips off and leaves the room in darkness as a man lowers his arm back into the chair he is sitting in. The low hum of rain hitting the roof fills the background and is the only noise at the moment. The man lifts his other arm this time and looks at his watch as lighting cracks outside. Twelve fifteen. I guess it's as good a time as ever to go to sleep. He reclines and closes his eyes as the thunder booms.

Ding dong!

The man's eyes open in an instant and he's filled with frustration. Who the hell would be at the door this late at night? Just ignore it. He closes his eyes back but the ringing continues.

"I'm coming!" he yells as he decides finally to answer the door. "You got any idea what time it is!?" The man's foot falls are accentuated by the falling rain and they work in harmony as he moves across the room. As he grips the knob he's struck for a split second with a feeling of fear but ignores it and throws open the door. "What the hell do you want!?" he yells loudly so the visitor could hear it over the rain and the thunder.

The visitor was soaked from head to toe and there was rain dripping from his shoulder length black hair. He was incredibly pale but the man figured it was from the cold and the rain outside. There was no answer to the man's question.

"I asked you wha-"

"My car." said the man, his voice sounding like the sound made when sliding your feet across gravel. "My car broke down a few blocks back. Engine just exploded. Could I use your phone?" As he said this he raise his head and exposed his eyes, the man was paralyzed for a second.

"Y-yeah. Sure. Just go back into the kitchen and it's on the wall." He turned around to avoid the visitor's glare and walked inside again but there were no footsteps following him. He turned around and the visitor was still standing there, soaking in the rain. "What're you waiting for? An invitation? Come in."

At those words the man began moving forward and entered the house, soaking the carpet in the process but it didn't seem to bother the man. At the entrance to the kitchen, his back to the visitor, the man blacks out.

As the man wakes up he sees that the visitor is sitting in his chair reading a book. He makes a sound and the visitor lowers the book to his lap and acknowledges the man.

"So, you're finally awake. I got bored so I decided to browse your book collection." He notices that the man was looking at the book. "Oh, yeah, reading Dracula. Really good book, albeit inaccurate. Pointy teeth, turning into a bat, garlic, all garbage. Turning into a bat would be pretty cool though I think." He smiles. "Oh yeah, also found this." He picks up another book, larger than Dracula. He flips through it then looks up again. "What the hell is this supposed to be? Glittering in the sun? I'd rather burn." He takes out a lighter and sets it afire, laying it on the glass table in front of him to smolder. The light of the burning book plays with the shadows in the room, slightly covering the visitor's face in darkness. "See, that's the problem with popular media. They make stuff up and exaggerate, totally obscuring the truth. It was like that even back in the... what century was it? Around the 1600s. They claimed that we slept in coffins and rose out of the ground to feed. Bullshit, I'm not going to sleep in any coffin. All this stuff stuck too, the world completely ridicules us every day. I mean look at that book there." he points at the burning ashes. "I don't know where half the stuff in that book came from. Even Dracula has a lot of made up things in it. The only thing that's really true is the living forever and burning in sunlight."

The man was just staring in amazement at the words being spoken by the visitor? What is he saying? That the nightmares of young kids are true? If he's not lying then what else could inhabit this world? As these thoughts were crossing the man's mind he suddenly became aware of a sharp pain in his arm. When he looks down he sees a small puncture wound in his arm, though it's not bleeding anymore there was traces of blood dried on.

"Oh that? Sorry, you slept for so long and I didn't want to move to the main course while you were out so I had a little snack. Anyway, it's been fun but I think it's time for me to dine."

The visitor rises out of the chair and the man's fear mimics it. As he stares into the eyes of this... demon, he is scared to death. He's going to die, his life has finally come to an end. Why me? he thinks.

As the visitor slowly approaches the man he brandishes a small knife. That's all the man can take and he attempts get up... and fails.

"You didn't think I'd allow you a way to escape did you?" the visitor laughs. "I'm not that stupid! Now just hold still, it will all be over soon."

As he stands beside the man the visitor quickly punctures his jugular vein with the small knife, causing the man to scream out in pain. The blood begins to flow from the man's neck and the visitor places his mouth over the wound. The man's breathing becomes very quick and shallow and his eyes roll up into his head. After a couple of minutes the visitor removes his mouth and wipes the blood from his lips. The blood continues to flow from the wound.

"Tasty." says the visitor to himself. "Human blood is the best, though I hate the way they react to my dinners. I'm starving for most of the day because of the human laws against taking a life. I have to eat, I should have a right to live too. Being called a demon and an abomination your entire life will have an effect on you. I don't understand where I fit in this world." He peers down at the man, dead, in the chair, the blood dripping down his neck now, almost dry. "I'm sorry. I hate doing this but I'm not going to die because of your mortal laws."

The visitor turns toward the door and sheds a tear for the life snuffed out that night, for the other three lives he has taken that week, and for all the lives he has taken over his lifetime. As he steps outside into the pouring rain he tears are hidden but the feelings remain. Lighting flashes and thunder claps as he walks down the street to continue living his life, being shunned and ostracized by all those around him for trying to survive. What a sad life it must be.