Lamiae

Their arms were wrapped tightly around each other in a passionate embrace.  They were kissing furiously, their lips glued together.  He'd never felt like this before, so inflamed with love.  He wanted her.

He wanted her blood.

What? Where did that come from? he thought to himself.

They continued to kiss.  The urge to bite her grew stronger.  He stopped kissing her.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"I'm...I'm not feeling well...I should go," he said.

"Oh...is everything okay?  You look a little pale."

"Oh do I?  Yeah I'm...I'm fine.  I'll see you tomorrow alright?"

"Okay...I'll call you alright?"

"Alright."

He pulled on his jacket and went outside.  When he got to his car he got in and locked the doors and sat there.  He looked at his arms.  They were pale.  He wanted to cut them, to drink the blood.  His own blood?  What was wrong with him, why was he thinking like that.  He stared at his skin for a while, the longing to spill his own blood slowly crept away and he took a few deep breaths.  He just was not feeling right, a good night's sleep would help.  That would make him feel better.

He started the car and began to drive.  Drive.  Drive.  Drive.

He woke the next morning with a bad headache.  He crawled out of bed and walked into the bathroom.  He fumbled around in the cabinet for some pain killers.  When he found them he closed the cabinet and noticed his reflection in the mirror, or rather, his lack thereof.  He saw nothing in the mirror but the reflection of the bathroom around him.  His body was not displayed in the image at all.  He closed his eyes and rubbed them and opened them again.  Nope, still no reflection.  Disturbed and wanting to get out of the bathroom he turn.  He hit the door on accident and jammed his arm into the handle.  The stupidly pointed, metal handle cut him and he began to bleed.  The sight of blood gave him an elated feeling.  He had the urge to drink it.  He shook his head and went back to the cabinet for a bandage.  Ignoring his absent reflection and his bloody urges he bandaged his arm and then went to the kitchen for some breakfast.

He put the stove on a low heat.  He put some butter in the pan and spread it around then cracked two eggs in it.  He took some spinach and shredded it with his hands and sprinkled it in.  He grabbed salt, pepper, onion powder, and garlic powder from the cupboard.  He sprinkled on the ingredients, but when he got to the garlic he stopped.  As soon as he opened the bottle the smell of garlic filled his nostrils and he felt sick.  He closed it and took some deep breaths.  Finally the smell dissipated and he finished cooking the eggs.

As he ate he thought about the strange things that were happening to him.  He knew what he was, but what he did not know was how he came to be one.  He thought they were only legends, stories, myths.  He wondered if he could turn into a bat and fly.  He tried.  He thought really hard.  Nothing happened.  Oh well, it was worth a try.  He saw no fun in being a vampire if he could not fly, but then again, you can't ave everything.

He finished his eggs and went into his office to begin work.  His phone rang.

"Hello?" he answered.

"Babe it's me, how are you feeling this morning," his girlfriend asked.

"Oh, much better I think."

"What do you think was wrong."

"Well, nothing is wrong, really...it's just...I'm a vampire."