Dark Intentions

• Mikaela Dwyer, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2010

It was dark, the perfect night to go hunting and suck the blood out of humans. One a day wasn’t so bad; well that’s what he thought anyway. He was one of the fallen. Sent to earth bloody and broken, Desmond had a curse he needed to feed to keep alive and the holy sovereign didn't like it and branded him with the mark of the black rose, The mark of a traitor.

He eyed the humans below him hungrily, his black hair blew in the wind and he jumped down the alley way, he ran into a blonde, blue eyed girl with a lost expression. His violet eyes with a tinge of crimson stared at her with his throat burning for the blood beneath her skin. She looked at the tanned muscled figure and was happy running into him.

"I haven’t seen you around here before..." he muttered
"You popular then?" she asked slightly intrigued
"Only to the dead..." he whispered pulling her in to the alley sucking her blood until she gave up her last breath she defiantly dead and that satisfied him. He smiled laughing his cruel laugh already longing for his next target.