(Human Form)
In retrospect, strolling through a dark park at night was not a good idea.
Miriam decided she was probably not thinking as clearly as she should have been when she decided to go for a walk at midnight. But she’d been unable to sleep, and after she’d stepped out into her backyard, the night and it’s cool embrace had beckoned, and she’d followed it’s summons. She wasn’t normally a night owl. She was a very bubbly, upbeat person, and she preferred day to night anytime; she liked things bright and cheerful, not doom and gloom. So walking alone, in a deserted park, in the middle of the night…well, that was far beyond normal for her. Okay, so maybe she wasn’t exactly alone. Miriam glanced down into the open pack she had slung over her head and shoulder, smiling down at a little lab Rattigan that chattered up at her happily, before snuggling into the mound of a soft, comfy baby blanket bunched inside the pack. Miriam doubted Sunny, her Rattigan, would be much help if something were to happen, but at least she didn’t feel so utterly alone with him tagging along.
Miriam hummed to herself; nothing ever seemed to brighten her cheerful demeanor. She was a placid, gentle, and very shy woman who had a strange effect on most people she met; she made them happy. Or well, happier. Her power didn’t always work, and it was extremely unpredictable. Miriam herself didn’t understand it, nor could she control it. She just accepted what it did, and kept her mouth shut about what happened when someone in a foul mood suddenly found themselves deliriously happy. Perhaps that was why Sunny the Rattigan always hung around; either way, Miriam wasn’t going to question the strange power that improved people’s lives. Speaking of life…Miriam was starting to really begin to fear for hers a little. The park was absolutely deserted, not a soul in sight, but she could swear she heard footsteps behind her. When she sped up, so too, did the steps. When she slowed down, the steps slowed with her. She felt a chill run up her spine, and knew this had been a bad, bad, bad idea.
She clutched the strap of her bag close to her, eyes darting about in search of her pursuer. She saw nothing but darkness, shadows dancing on the trees and making her start at every turn. “Oh dear,” she whispered to herself, her little heart stuttering in her chest. Miriam had never in her life been afraid, or had reason to be, but now she found that the shadows and the darkness and the perceived footsteps terrified her, and she very nearly hyperventilated as she quickened her pace. Panic set in as the footsteps grew louder, bolder, more real, and by the time a firm, but cold hand clamped around her wrist, she was nearly running in terror. Miriam felt her body jerk backwards, spinning around to slam into a solid chest. Her bag went flying, the indignant squeak of Sunny as he and the bag flew into the darkness echoing loud in her ears. Her eyes flew towards the darkness that had engulfed her beloved Rattigan, before they shot back up to the man that had grabbed her and held her still. Her gaze roved up his hard, stony face, chiseled and pale, and cruel in the darkness and the moonlight. His hair was a blinding shade of blonde, and cut close to his head, curling around his ears.
His eyes, however, told her that whomever or whatever this man was, he was not human. Black tinged with red bore into pale blue as Miriam’s eyes widened, her free hand reaching up to pry at his stony, unmoving fingers. They clenched tighter around her wrist, and she was certain she heard, and painfully felt, something crack. The silence of the darkness would have engulfed her scream, but when she opened her mouth, another pale, clammy hand found itself glued to her mouth, and she could make nothing more than muffled cries and indignant growls as he spun her around to clasp her back against his chest. He kept her arm pinned, though she clawed and scratched with her free hand. It seemed he didn’t feel the pain. Miriam was sure he was a murderer, or some kind of crazed kidnapper; what she did not see, however, was the way his teeth elongated into fangs, or the way he zeroed in on her pale, slender neck with bloodlust and intent. “Now, now, my dear.”
His voice was as cold as his skin, and Miriam shivered in fear, her heart stuttering in her chest. “That’s no way to behave. Consider yourself lucky that I’m choosing to turn you instead of disposing of you. I could always use one more minion, after all. And you’ve very lovely. I’m sure we could find a few uses for you.” Miriam had no idea what this psychopath was talking about, but she wanted none of that. She struggled harder, and his grip tightened, elongated nails digging into and breaking her skin; blood flowed freely, and Miriam winced in pain as she felt the bite and sting of fresh, open wounds. The man leaned down as brushed his lips across her neck, before his fangs scraped sharply, leaving raw, bloody marks in their wake. Miriam jerked and cried out, but her voice was muffled by his hand. His lips brushed over the mark, and he bent his head, ready to sink his fangs into her neck and change her life -or after-life- forever. What was he going to do, bite her?! He really was a freak!