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Array
(
[sid] => 43185
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => His New Fangs
[time] => 2004-04-14 11:31:31
[hometext] => please post your comments
[bodytext] => A mist creeps over the dull, stone cobbles, the moon hiding behind clouds, built with fear, the only noise is the wind, howling down the street, its His time, His time to feast, on pure clean blood, His long black cloak, jolts around from the wind, His tall hat, casts a dark shadow upon His face, His eyes, dark and cold, can just be seen through the shadows, but then a noise, someone's coming, a frail young girl, in a long, red dress, Her shoes, skimming across the cobbles, Her skin, smooth and pale, Her lipstick, as red as blood, what luck, his found his prey, He sits, and waits, for Her to turn the corner, He grabs Her from behind and covers up Her mouth, no need to scream, no one will hear Her now, a cut along the collar bone, blood slowly, trickling out, His snake like tongue, licks up the blood that falls upon Her breasts, what a tender feast, for His new life, one quick stab of a kinife through the heart, and the young girl slowly dies, He places her body down with care, wipes the blood from around His mouth, and smiles, to show His new fangs, for this man, this creature, is a Vampire again, He slowly walks down the old cobbled street, back into the lonely light of the moon. [comments] => 7 [counter] => 171 [topic] => 13 [informant] => nail-to-the-head [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 0 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry )
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