Prompt: While it’s common knowledge that werewolves, vampires, and zombies can turn people into them with a bite, what’s lesser known is that humans can do the same thing to them.
“I don’t know what to do with myself,” I say, pacing the room.
Marlene sits in the chair in the corner, between the two windows open to the night. “What do you mean?”
I stop, wrap my arms around myself. “You do remember I was bit by one of them, don’t you?”
“And they work like us, you know, right?”
“Then I don’t understand where the confusion is.”
She leans forward, sighing. Pushes back her silver bangs behind her pointed ears. “The confusion is that I don’t know what you’re on about Charles. You were bit, so what? How bad could it be?”
I feel tears coming as I sharply inhale. Blink them back, stare up at the vaulted ceiling. “I mean, Mar, that I soon will be one of them. I will no longer be a vampire.”
“But isn’t that what you wanted? For an end? You’ve always had a problem with immortality.”
“Yes, but… Not like this.” Start to pace again. “Not this way. I can already feel it in my bones, in my veins. Already feel the draw of the television, of obsessive desire to manicure the front lawn, the undeniable urge to be asleep by nine o’clock and endlessly struggle of not wanting to leave the bed.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad…” she says, lowly. Unconvincing. She raises from the chair, crosses the study to me. Holds my arms and keeps me steady. “Look, Charles, it’ll be fine; you’ll be fine.”
I met her gaze. Those gray-blue eyes I feel in love with so many eons ago. “But what will happen when I fully transform? When my belly’s a pouch and my skin’s sun-kissed; when my hair starts to fall out and I have those horrible wrinkles…”
“I will love you all the same. We’ll see this through, you and I; no matter the shape we may take. Okay?”
I glance away as tears come.
She shakes me a little. “Okay?” she repeats.
“I suppose,” I give in. She pulls my arms apart, and we embrace. I feel the chill radiate through her clothes, permeating from her flesh to mine. Yet another thing that sends terror rolling over me… Soon I may not be able to love her, be able to hold her like I do now. Muscles will be warm and age, bones brittle, the touch of her pallor flesh no longer welcoming but revolting.
I hold her tighter, despite the cold, and bury my face into her hair.
Read the previous prompt, “Rummaged Within”
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