A Short Story "The Tattered old Lady"
The Tattered Old Lady
The cold triumphed the night, silence seemed to echo throughout the world planting an eerie clamor upon the near decayed earth. The flickering of the moons’ light shimmered past the many leaves from the old granddaddy willow tree. A hard thrust of wind irritated the weaker leaves of the tree and sent them spiraling down to the earth surface. Twisting and flipping down, the pieces of discolored leaves were like confetti on the lone lakes’ watery blanket.
The thoughts of a tattered old woman seeped into the night she sat at the base of the rickety old stairs once painted in the dark crimson of metallic blood. Her face was broken flesh, her eyes were darkened hollows, her hair was blonde though so dirty that it looked brown, her nails were jagged, her teeth yellow and rotten, her breath was pure foulness. She sat there on the bottom step covered in her orange warn out poncho, dirty yellow sweater that hung off her fragile body, ordinary blue jeans that looked like they have been fed to Cerberus and given back to her. She wore a pair of holy stocking and nice pair of dark brown short heel boots that seemed to be a bit more new than the rest of her garments.
The old lady was alone, she was trapped in her own mind. Many of the snobbish town folk called her the crazy old lady; the one who never got accepted to the loony bin. She was an old simple lady who grew so old that she had forgotten right from wrong. Days went on, yet for the old woman, the days seems so very long. The harsh excruciating twisted world left her without family, without a place to live, without anything or anybody. None cared for her, nobody even tried to learn her name or her story. When she was at her final days of life upon the world, when she was sure that nothing else could ever harm her, he stepped into her life and made her new.
He was not from around the town, he knew nothing of the place and yet he found his way to the old woman. Lost and confused of why she was alone, shivering and sitting there in her misery, the man came up to her and offered her a hand in a friendly manner. She looked up at the man, her bright blue unfocused eyes lingered on his face and stature. He stood upright tall and strong, his frame was in no way like hers, bruised and brittle. She was tired, she crossed her arms about her empty body and shattered heart. Her eyes looked, but her mind told her nothing but trickery as it always has and this time she would not fall for the lies. She ignored the man and his offer.
He wrinkled his stern yet confused face, his deep golden hazel orbs studied the old woman in curiosity. He dropped his hand before he lowered his body and sat down beside her. The woman turned to face him, she was in slight awe of this strange mans face and the simple fact that he had sat down beside her. Why had he done so? What was his reason and what was the point for him to give an effort? Answerless, the old woman then finally focus her eyes and seen a gentleman, one dressed as if he were heading to the opening nights opera. His black gloved right hand that sheltered up to his wrists once again offered out to the old and wary woman. The wind crept up her body and she shivered clutching her body. The shivering did not cease, though she tried to take the mans offer with her own half covered hand, wrapped in an old black ripped trash bag. She felt short when she heard the loud crash of the nearby street cleaner that spilled his bucket upon the cold hard rock made ground. That very next moment the old woman fell onto the man and grew limp. Her face tinted pale and her lips light icy blue like the frost upon a Christmas window.
The chime of the grand tower rang loudly and echoed throughout the town’s hall. First charm and the man grabbed the woman in his gloved hands holding her as if she were a porcelain doll . Second charm and he picked her up into his grasp and laid her in his arms. Charm three, he stood up with his arms woven around her . He carried her like she was antique. Charm four, he took her to an old looking tavern not four blocks away. The building looked a bit run down like all the building around. One could only tell that this was the poor side of town. Charm five and he was slipping his right hand down deep into his pocked to retrieve a few pieces of gold to pay for a nights room. Charm six and he strode up the stairs and to the room he had over paid for. He laid her down on the hard bed and closed the door behind him. In the night his eyes shone with the silvery ice as his optics hit the candlelight. Charm seven and he walked back to her, he stood there staring at her his eyes glistened in the dim light. He bent his body as he twisted and sat down with her. Her eyes were almost fogged with death. Her body was cold, hard and life lingered by a thread. Charm eight, his lips parted and his eight fangs peeked from his lips. Charm nine, the old woman looked up at him as if he were the angel of death. Her left hand rose as she reached out to touch him. Her mind was out like a black light. She could think no more. She acted upon reaction, without thought. Charm ten, he struck. Charm eleven and the taste of her blood filled his mouth as he drank only a few seconds as she was near death. All vampires know not to drink of the dead blood or they too will parish. Charm twelve and he stopped, he removed his mouth from her neck and slit his wrist. He pushed his bloody wrist to her mouth and made her drink of his rich Vampric royal blood, this was the beginning of something new.