Horror has always been a rather guilty pleasure as mine, but not exactly one of my more talented experties. This was more so practice than anything. I don't think it's too bad so I think that T will be a nice rating... We'll see though...


She was sitting near the bar, slouched over, holding up her head with her hand nearly crushing one of her amber eyes with her cheek. Said eyes were roaming the filthy establishment as she twirled her chocolate brown hair around her fingers and watched it bounce back into its ringlet.

Suddenly she jerked her gaze towards a small table in the corner of the pub. It seemed to be the only clean spot in the entire room. There sat a man in rather neat clothes considering where he was; a crisp white button up shirt with a deep blue (nearly black) cravat tucked into his brown vest. On his cheek was a faded red mark in the shape of a hand. He ran his own hand through his dark locks while the other traced the rim of his glass of alcohol.

With a wicked grin she stood up and swayed her hips enticingly as she sashayed to the table with her skirts fluttering about. He didn't even glance at her when she approached but said with a slight slur in his voice, "Your… Your services won't be needed."

"Oh but sir," she tilted her head to the side allowing her long hair to fall from her shoulders exposing her long pale neck and sharp collar bone, "I know a lost soul when I see one."

He sighed deeply and swallowed his entire drink in one gulp, shivering at the, by now, familiar burning sensation in his throat. It was quite obvious that this was his first time ever drinking. No thanks to his state he blurted out, "The woman I've been courting for three years refused to marry me. When I asked her why she slapped me and ran off…"

"Then she's a stupid woman," she traced a long finger over the bruise gently before leaning down and kissing it softly, "I assure you that you wouldn't even need to court me; I'd just say yes." She stared into his dark eyes and immediately knew that he wasn't in his right state of mind because of his drinks. She also detected a flicker of desire.

Knowing that she had him, she kissed him on the lips; rubbing her plump red lips against his soft thin ones. After a moment of careful persuasion, he began to return the kiss, albeit a little sloppily.

She grinned and broke away. When he looked up with confused eyes, she just winked at him before walking out the old door. She knew that he was following her; his footsteps loud against the dirt road. She unlocked the door to her home and beckoned him in with her finger. He followed like a dog to its master.

The house was small; one room with a large bed in the corner and a small stove in the other. There was a table in the middle that seemed to have no clean space on it for it was covered with everything to common silverware and plates to books. It was the only place to put it really since there were no cupboards of any sort.

She turned around and walked backwards until the back of her legs hit the edge of the bed. He had the mind to close the door behind him before walking up to her. It was now that she realized that he was a tall man. He had to be since she was a tall woman, yet he was at least a whole head higher than she. That girl doesn't know what she's going to miss… She thought, licking her lips. He made the first move, cupping her cheeks and leaning down to capture her lips. She almost surrendered. Almost. She gripped the back of his head, tangling her hands in his messy locks, and pulled his lips harder against hers. She ran her tongue over his bottom lip before plunging in when he moaned.

For a moment, and only just a moment, somebody might have thought that they had some tragic story behind them and were finally letting go, or some other ridiculous story instead of a drunken man and a woman that he just met not even ten minutes ago.

He pushed her gently onto the bed and climbed atop of her. Not once did the marvelous lip-lock break.

She flipped them over so she was on top, straddling him. She moved to his neck, kissing the soft flesh while one of her hands traveled under his shirt and traced patterns on his chest. He closed his eyes and moaned softly.

Once again, for the third time I believe, she grinned, but this time it was a grin that would have put the most wicked person in the world to shame. She bit him. No, not like that of a lover wanting to make a mark then to soothe it, more like a lion taking a bite out of its prey. Blood was gushing out of the wound on his pulse and she procured a knife from the table and plunged it through skin, bone, and muscle; straight through his heart.

His scream of agony soon turned into a strangled gurgle as he tasted the metallic flavor in his mouth. His eyesight faded in and out, and he clawed at her hoping. Praying. Begging, that she would stop.

She didn't.

He took one last strangled breath. His heart gave one last thump. He blinked once more. Then he was dead.

She searched his pockets and found what she was looking for in his breast pocket. It was a coin bag and by the sound of it, there was a fair amount. She opened it and cleared a spot on her table (throwing items onto the ground) and dumped the contents on the clean spot she created. Her eyes lit up when she saw not only coins, but bills fall onto the mahogany wood. She was about to pick up and count the money when a single drop of blood caressed her cheek before falling onto one of the bills. She mentally slapped herself for her stupidity and grabbed a spare pair of clothes. She changed quickly and with a towel, soaked up the red liquid from her skin and hair. As for the smell. Well that could wait until tomorrow.

She glanced at her victim and felt not a single pang of guilt or remorse. She dragged the body out to a nearby river before dumping him and her ruined clothing into the river.

She was about to say farewell as she normally did to her customers, but chuckled softly.

She hadn't even found out his name.