This is a story i wrote, and it's not THAT long, but please R&R it anyways! Thank you!

So this story is about this vampire called Farrel, and this girl that he's in love with. He's supposed to kill her to drink her blood. But he's torn- he needs blood, and he loves her. Classic vampire problem. *cough* not that' i'd know, but...... Enjoy (i hope)!!!!!

                He could already taste that sweet nectar on his lips. It would be still warm, but moved like mercury, slowly clumping on top of his tongue like honey.

                Farrel was already able to guess what she would do. She would scream, not knowing he was her enemy, and fall into his arms. Then he would caress her, his lips slowly sinking to her breastbone. Then the moment of joy would come. She’d be happy, not knowing what her fate would be, and then suddenly it would come. He would bare his pointy teeth, the ones she had dubbed “cute” and puncture the skin right at her neck. For a moment, she would freeze; not realizing what was happening, then she would stare up into his now cold eyes, which thirsted for her blood. Such was the hunt of the vampire.

                The victim-to-be was a young woman of about seventeen, unsuspecting of horror, her mind shadowed with love. She had ebony hair carefully braided with gold twine, hanging down to her waist. Her skin was pure ivory , as she bathed in milk and rose water every day. In fact, many said that the description of her appearance was like that of “Snow White” from the old fairy tale.

Her beauty was just blossoming. Her innocence was still in tact. The shroud of love was covering her eyes.

She seemed to really believe Farrel when he told her that he loved her. Farrel wasn’t so sure himself. He possibly did love her. What difference did it make? Either way, he needed blood, and fast. Every day his skin became more pasty, he hungered for true human blood, not something from a dead cow. Rules had been made: no longer were vampires allowed to drink from humans. But did that matter? He was already dead. He was the living dead. He didn’t need to follow rules. Being a vampire was hard work, but he didn’t want to go to Hell.

Many of his friends had been banished their, he was alone. The moment they were taken, the sky erupted in red. Blood streamed down and he drank. Then it stopped. Screams came from below.

As a boy, Farrel never believed that vampires existed. They were against God, so no one would speak of them. Then one day, his parents came home from a dinner party very late at night. Their eyes were scarlet as they went to see him in his bed.

“Good night Farrel!” they whispered. Something was wrong with their teeth. “Sleep well!” then his mother leaned in for a kiss- but missed. Her eyeteeth sunk into his neck, leaving him no chance to fight. He was a vampire then.

Persephone was her name. She was on her balcony right now, watching the bats fly at midnight. It would seem to be romantic- and to her it was. Farrel would only come at the darkest hour. She didn’t know why, but that’s how he wanted it. For some reason, she’d do whatever he wanted her to do: even die.

“Ah, at last my dear!” He had arrived. As if Farrel had popped out of thin air, he presented her with a flower. “Its petals are the same red your lips are.” He had no way with poetry at all. Persephone laughed in her head. Its things like these that make me love him. She sighed, drinking in the smell of the rose. But something’s wrong with him. He’s looking at me too strangely. What could it possibly be?

“Come, it’s been too long!” Farrel pulled her closer to him, and kissed her tenderly on the lips, savouring their warmth and softness. Should I really do this? Is this what is smartest? If I love her, do I want her to become a vampire like me? Or would it be best to let her live the life of a normal human, and not be as damned as I am?

Farrel led her inside her room and sat down on her bed, patting the pillow beside him. Persephone lowered herself slowly smiling with the corners of her mouth.

“I have something to tell you.” He said, pulling her face to the crook of his neck. “I,” he paused. “I’m a vampire.”

Persephone smiled and leaned back on the pillows. “Me too.”

by Janessa Mann Ó 2005

Hey! This is a limerick i wrote a few years ago.. hope you like it! It's kinda funny (as most limerics are). Okay, I admit it's a bit violent, and kinda gross if you think about it (once you read it, you'll get it!)...

Okay, so under the line, is the poem. It's called "Silent Stood" and it's kinda about this old sprite making some clothes, or light or God... i'm not totally sure yet. but please R&R it and tell me what you think it means! Thanks!

Silent stood the quiet light

Old hands twisted it around

Louder and louder in the night

While the moon shone.

Silent stood the whispering light

It was one form but separate

It changed, obscured from sight.

The hands moved quicker.

Silent stood the singing light

The bony fingers pushed the creation around

And marvelled with such delight

Of its work, the light began to move.

Silent stood the dancing light

Moving as one, the colours adorned

The shape of the frail and slight

Maker, softly flowing.

Silent stood the laughing light

What was the light being?

Why did it change, why so bright,

And strange to the eyes?

Silent stood the crying light

It tore, the maker stood there,

Tears flowing down her sprite

Face. Such a waste.

Silent stood the quiet sprite

Old hands twisted it around

Quieter and quieter in “The Light”

God looked down.