Teen Leadership Council

Insomnia
Admin posted in Rituals And Traditions

A chill breeze gently stirs the curtains of the window I left open. She shivers in her sleep and pulls the covers up, huddling in them like a rabbit in its den.

It is very quiet. It usually is. We don't make much noise; making noise is a good way to alert our prey to us, and that's a good way to lose meals. People are cleverer these days. They do not fall victim to us so willingly, though it is easy enough to find a good meal among those who no longer believe. They are plentiful. She is one of them, and a pretty one at that: pale, perfect complexion, rich auburn hair. When she opens her eyes I see that they are a clear, cornflower blue. I know without being able to see though, so it matters little. I wait. I am good at waiting. Hours pass and she stirs uncomfortably. She has gotten a bit of sleep for the night; it is roughly two in the morning. She will be unable to fall asleep again once she fully wakes in a moment. Well, she would be unable to fall asleep again, given the opportunity. I take out my pocket watch and flip it open as she moves. I shut it with a snap and she freezes suddenly, wondering who is there. Her heart rate increases. It amuses me. I would chuckle if I weren't so hungry. Instead, I move in dead silence to the side of her bed. She has noticed the open window. Slowly, she rolls over. She would leap from her position and try to get away from me if I weren't so good at what I do; she is frozen in place. Her eyes widen. I put a finger to her lips, quieting her protests gently.

"Worry not," I breathe. I wait a moment, examining her. She is a fine specimen indeed. I wonder what she thinks as my eyes make their transition from dark brown to pale, deathly blue. "You are very beautiful," I say.  She doesn't answer, wondering what I'm going to do to her.

"I did tell you not to worry," I say, almost indignantly. She nods faintly. I see her begin to relax as I wait some more. Adrenaline sours the blood. At last, most of it leaves her veins and she speaks. Her voice is as beautiful as she is. "Who are you?" I can hear her try to keep her voice calm. She succeeds… almost.

"My name is Michael Uther Bartholomeu Eth Pheoa IV," I tell her. She stares at me as though I am insane. Not an uncommon reaction. "Call me Bat," I continue.  "All right, Bat,"  she replies slowly. "What are you doing in my house?" remain silent for a long time, slowly, gently reaching out and entangling my fingers in her silky hair. I don't tell her. It is unwise to tell them. More adrenaline spoils the entire experience. Finally, I speak again.

"Please try to understand," I say. "I am very hungry. This will only hurt for a moment." I move quickly, before her nerves can jump into action again. Before she knows what is happening, my hands are clamped onto her wrists. She does not have time to struggle before my fangs sink into her neck.

A quarter of an hour later I have finished with her. I admit to myself that this was not necessary; it's not as though I cannot eat other things or quench my thirst on animals. But it's such a lovely tradition.