A Vampire's Charm

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"I have never met a vampire personally, but I don't know what might happen tomorrow." — Bela Lugosi

   
Edited somewhat
Claire's POV


            The moon seems as if it's following me, surrounded in its pigeon blue colored evening sky. It was too damn cold this evening, and the icy temperature is really starting to seep into my skin; numbing the tip of my nose and fingertips. No snow yet— but that could change at any moment, the weather forecast was always wrong. Walking home was never a problem, but this felt as if snowmen wore more protection of the cold than me!

          That being said, it was my fault for not bringing outerwear. Anything would've been better than the harsh frigid winds caressing my arms, blowing strands of golden blonde hair into my face. It was truly starting to feel like December, and if that didn't make me feel giddy at this moment— nothing would.

I can feel myself shivering, goosebumps littering my arms as the frosted outside hit me. I should've brought a jacket or at least a shawl— but I had forgotten to have my clothes washed and dried the week prior to the party. Twelve times— that's how many times my mother reminded me of the atrocity that was the Demitri family's coming up celebration. It would be a never-ending lecture from her about being irresponsible if she ever found out that I had forgotten. So for now, I would have to hope for a miracle in this cold weather.
I was trembling like a ravenous chihuahua, teeth chattering. I had hoped that the blonde little unshaved hair on my arms would have worked as a chubacca coat- but I'm never that lucky. 'I'm never going to a winter ball ever again. In fact, I'm never going to another ball, period.' I thought to myself.

Why did I agree to this? I didn't even get along with the vile creature who planned the damned party. Amelia. Avoiding awkward eye contact with her was the highlight of my night— especially when I hid behind a large snake plant, making myself as small as possible.
It worked. She was a slimy person— the type who'd bully those who couldn't speak, kick a puppy when he's learning how to crawl. Do you hate her yet? I know I do. Don't lie. No matter how much I disliked her— I couldn't find it in me to hate her or do anything of malicious intent.

           It just wasn't in my DNA code— I'm naturally a lover, a pushover if you will.

I'm quickly snapped out of my thoughts and thrown into the reality known as my life when I hear a low gravelly voice that startles me; Making me aware of how slow I'm actually walking.

"Cold are we? Why don't you come over here and I'll warm you up, doll." The voice is deep and raspy— and sounds like an older man. A sensation of dread piles up in my chest as I shiver in disgust. Guys these days really think that they can get a girl with a few cheesy lines. Especially the creepy guys. I find it extremely disturbing—Why do they think that telling us our toes are pretty and whistling will get us to swoon? Like, hell yeah— I definitely want to get into your shady 1999 Volkswagen now that you've properly whistled at me like a dog! Slap a name tag on me and call me spot.

           I see a hunched shadow in the alleyway as I pass it, my heels click clacks ricocheting is the only thing audible. I shake my head at him, Golden blonde strands of hair falling into my face once again. I brush them out quickly with my long fingers, and start to speed up my trek. No way was I going over there, he had such unrealistic expectations— then again, all men do. I never go into alleyways, they should be illegal with how much criminal activity goes on in them. Especially red brick alleyways— something about red bricks always signals for doom; at least that's what the horror movies show.

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