Been a while since I started an original story. I hope this comes out okay :)
Joanne stumbled as she followed the path along the road, narrowly avoiding a tree while doing so. Her vision was blurring, her eyes showing her three of everything, and she just knew she was going to have one hell of a hangover in the morning.
A strand of blonde hair fell over her eye, blocking part of her view. She reached up to push it away, tuck it behind her ear, but only succeeded in pocking herself in the eye. She barely felt the pain of it.
Her phone chirped loudly, vibrating in her purse. She stumbled again as she halted and reached for the purse, opening it and pulling out her phone. The lit up screen read 1 New Message and the number underneath didn't ring a bell. Joanne opened it and let out a sigh of recognition. It was a text from Cecily, demanding to know where she was. Joanne didn't bother to reply and simply put her phone back in her purse, resuming her drunken walk home.
She didn't know how much time passed or how far she'd walked, only hummed the tune of a catchy song as she switched between the side of the road and the footpath. The houses to her right were all apartment blocks, the norm for crowded towns. She could've sworn at least one still had a light on, still had people up at three in the morning.
"I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts," she sang softly. "There they are, standing in a row."
Another set of footsteps came from behind her. She simply kept on singing to herself. "Big ones, small ones, some as big as your head."
The footsteps were closer, taking two steps for her every one. She wasn't bothered by them. They'd pass her without even giving her a second glance. Everyone always did that for drunken people walking down the street.
A hand landed on her shoulder, firm and large. Joanne stopped and turned around slightly, unfocused eyes landing on the figure.
"Are you alright, Miss?" a male voice inquired. The voice was young, probably that of a teenager. As she stared at him she noticed dusty gold hair and bright crimson eyes. His skin was pale – paler than most people's – but that was probably because of his heritage. What kind of heritage would give someone sickly pale skin?
Joanne simply nodded and went to continue walking, only to be pulled back by him, his grip tighter.
"What the he–" she started. Her sentence was cut short as he gave her a toothy grin. Two long teeth poked out from the rest. His eyes began to shine brightly, the red mesmerising her as he stared intensively into hers.
In the blink of an eye his mouth flew to her neck, bringing the pain of hot needles piercing her skin along with the action.