Ayanna:
Anger: A strong feeling of displeasure and usually of antagonism (2013, merriam webster dictionary)
I loved him from the first moment I saw him. It seems a little freakish because when I first saw him, he was only ten years old. I was over a hundred and he was ten, but it's true. From the moment I got a glimpse of those beautiful dark brown eyes of his and that beautiful dark chocolate skin, I was fixated. I knew this was the one I wanted for myself. However, I couldn't decide if he was human or vampire.
His mother and father I'd heard, were new to the community. They'd come up north to Chicago after the birth of their youngest because according to the gossip vine, they'd managed to rescue their child from Lilith, the mother demon of the shadows. I'd gone to check this family out, to see if they even look like warriors, and they didn't.
The mother and father both were tall and slender, with the mother fashionably updated. She looked like she belonged on the cover of a fashion magazine, with her hair done up in a ponytail of Shirley temple curls. Although the curls were out of date, she brought them back in with a pair of gold leafy earrings, that had a green gem nestled in the center of the leaf of each earring. She had on a matching dark green thermal cashmere sweater with a beautiful collard blouse sticking out of the top and bottom of the sweater. With this she had on a pair of stretch pants that fit her beautiful frame to a t.
The boots she had on were definitely hot, and I recognized them because I had a pair myself. They were a black leather pair with gold buckles accentuating the sides with a thick soled heel and a nice treading at the bottom. I smiled as I knew we would get along famously. She had a serious passion for fashion like I did.
The father looked debonair, like some ritzy guy with his nice tailored made clothing. I could tell he wasn't the sort to wear Jeans and T-Shirts, that the closest he'd come to dressing down was a dress shirt and slacks. I liked the neat way he presented himself; with his curly hair wiry all over his head, not looking messy but stylish in it's own way. His mustache was tapered and looking neat. His white dress shirt was neatly tucked into the waist band of his dress pants.
The sleeves settled comfortably at his wrists. He wore black dress pants I'm sure had been tailor made to fit him perfectly. His slender build gave a stylish, yet poised visual of him. Their other Two children, a young girl about thirteen and a young boy about six or seven years old were trailing behind the first three. The young boy was the spitting image of his father, with eyes the same color as his mother. He was carrying a football in hand, tossing it up and watching it come back down to fall in his hand.
He was a very cute young lad with a long and lean structure that gave him a look older than his years. Dark brown hair fell down into his eyes, keeping them away from my prying gaze. The boy's sister was almost as tall as the mother and looked as if she could have been her mother's twin; that's how much she favored her. She had a cd player in her hand and was listening to her music rather loudly. I frowned in disgust.
I didn't like any of the music they played now a days. It was too much racket. I stopped liking music after the nineteen fifties when Jazz and Blues began to shrink in popularity. My personal favorites were Nina Simone, Peggy Lee, Dorothy Dandridge And Sammy Davis Jr. I could rattle off a lot more, but that would be an exhaustive list.
As I watched him and his family go up to their new home, I knew that now was not the time to make my presence known. My father and I had heard all about the Wilheim clan and had even done some extensive research on them. They were not the type to approach unnoticed, unless you wanted to fight to the death.
Although I had no problems with protecting myself, it simply made no sense to stir up trouble when a woman didn't have to, so taking one last glance at the young boy as he entered the home first, I let out a small smile, allowing my thoughts to ponder what he may look like as an adult and then swiftly but stealthy made my exit.
~~
When leaving the Gregoire's home, after my final glimpse of the one they called Tavis, which in my opinion is a strange name, I made my way back to my own home. The two bedroom home I shared with my father and had now for the past five years that we'd resided in Washington Heights, a suburban area of Chicago, was on the opposite end of town where they lived. I liked the place we lived in because it wasn't a crowded area, nor was it completely in solitude. I hated being secluded off from civilization.
Mainly from humans since I fancied their life force. I'm not one of those vampires who fed off animals, or rodents or any other creature that wasn't human. I actually felt a connection with animals of the wild better than I did humans. After one hundred plus years, living as an immortal, I've discovered that humans were fun to play with, easy to entice, and eager to give their blood when it meant they had the chance of becoming a vampire. I had chosen to walk instead of run, because I didn't need to. I was in a great mood and my heart was filled with all sorts of emotion as I thought of my future mate. He'd been waited upon for a very long time. I smiled at the thought that my wait was finally over. I let out a little giggle and started singing very loudly, "To be loved...To be loved..."
"How cute." I heard a voice state, interrupting my playful banter. Unfortunately for the person who'd spoken, I just happen to choose the worse neighborhood in the city, which was an area of multiple ghetto housing developments to make my presence known. I came to an abrupt stop and noticed there was a guy propped up next to a brick building by an alley way. He was nonchalantly running a knife over the palm of his left hand. His dark hair had been cut in a short style and spiked. He was wearing an earring in his bottom lip and one in the eyebrow. Since I knew that the bottom one leaked the most blood, this one was the one he'd loose first. However, before that even happened I began running my hands up and down my arms, fearfully.
"What's a matter baby, you cold?" I heard a smooth voice fill my ear. I felt stupid. At-least that's what I told myself. If I was to put on a good performance, I needed to feign surprise, even if I'd been aware of the second guy who'd been behind me since the first one had spoken. I smelled him the moment I'd been brought out of my little sing song. My dad was always telling me that when ever I was distracted, it was completely, to a point where my surroundings did not matter, which he said that for a vampire was not good; and for a vampire who'd celebrated her seventeenth birthday for more than a hundred and twenty five times this past march, that was even worse. Especially since I didn't look a day over seventeen years. It would make me more vulnerable to these types of attacks. What could I say? When I was into something, I got completely immersed to the point of obsession. It wasn't like I was trying to, it was just that when I became intrigued, it was something consistent and on going for years, sometimes centuries.
Anyhow, now, here I stood caught in a trap, at least that's what it appeared to be. Oh God, what's a girl to do! I thought sarcastically, Cry out for help? This was exactly what I did. "Help! help!" I shouted. Damn I was good.
"Nobody can hear you sweet thang..." He stated as he pushed his body up against mine. I was appalled at the hard on he was sporting, which I could feel through the back of the dress I was wearing. A blue jean twill jacket had been chosen to complete the ensemble. Although it was cold enough to freeze water after less than thirty minutes of being in this weather, I always wore dresses.
Today I was wearing a thick black dress made from a combination of wool and cotton that cinched at the hips and flared out at the bottom, which I might say looked nice on my full figure. I was a big girl, but not in flabby, fat big. I was big as in thick bones, a lot of muscle mass and built like, how shall I put it nicely? A curvaceous woman. My hips, and thighs were firm, while my butt was round, plump and succulent, and I always, always had a problem with men rubbing up against me or touching me. I couldn't figure out what made them want to be so disgusting. My dad said it's because I was beautifully made.
