MicroHorror

After hooking up at Donny’s Nightclub and a few drinks, we decided to find someplace a little more private. I followed her directions for ten minutes and we found ourselves alone in the ruins of an ancient mausoleum. The wrought-iron gate had been seemingly torn from its hinges; maybe it was just the years of decay.
 
Her alluring, youthful gaze and come-hither whispers shook any doubts from my mind. Her unblemished skin shimmered as she removed the heavy outer coat she had been wearing and revealed a stunning little number: black cape with red lining, a tight-fitting black corset with a black belt and large gold buckle–she wouldn’t have been out of place as a picture on a teenage boy’s bedroom wall. 
 
Holding each other fiercely, whispering empty sentiments of love and lust, I suddenly began to feel the blood pumping hard. Sweat broke across my brow and that tingling sensation in my skin was enough for me to realize that this night was not going to end favorably for one of us. 
 
Caressing my cheek with one of her long, blood-red nails, she gently tilted my head back, preparing for the time-honored tradition–all in the name of increasing the Army of the Underworld, keeping her youthful looks and feeding the hunger that she undoubtedly craved to satisfy from the very beginning. 
 
See, all my life I have known that I was different. I suffer, if that is the right word, from Hemavampirism. It is a gene in the chemical make-up of my blood that not only allows me to “see” vampires, to see through their mortal shells to the blackness within, but it also makes me immune to the coup de grâce of the vampire–when my blood mixes with that of the undead, it has the opposite effect: that is, that my mortal blood rushes into them and causes them to return to a mortal state and age appropriately. 
 
After collapsing to the ground once her teeth had pierced my skin (this process always saps a lot of energy from me), I place my fingers over the wound to stop myself from bleeding too much, turn my head away from what will be a most horrific final few moments for her… I know what will happen and can not bear to watch: her youthful figure will completely change and she will age suddenly and irreparably…. 
 
I can almost hear the sigh of recognition from her as I lie here, knowing that another is dead but that there will always be more.