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Creative Nonfiction Romance Lesbian

This story contains themes or mentions of physical violence, gore, or abuse.

My dearest Liora.

I hope this letter finds you in good health and prosperity, though I have no way of knowing if this will reach you. But as my heart aches, I pray that my efforts are not in vain. The last I saw you, you were running out of your coming out party in tears. And while I wanted to chase after you, I was held back by the snickers of the room. Forgive me for my cowardice. If I had known it would be the last time I saw you, I would have ran into the night and begged you to stay with me, and if you still chose to run, I would have been right there by your side. 

I went to your house the following week, but your parents said you never returned. It was then that I knew we wouldn’t meet again. Still, I packed my horse, and rode from town to town, asking if anyone had seen you, and followed your trail up until the Black Bear Saloon. Under normal circumstances I would never enter such an establishment, and knowing you had, has brought me much despair. Even worse, after giving the bartender your description and receiving nothing but a cold stare, I was approached by a wiry man who claimed to know you. He said he was a coachman of a friend of yours, and you had been staying at their manor for the better part of three months. I demanded he bring me to you at once, but instead he let out the most unnerving noise—something I’m hesitant to call a laugh, but I have no other word for it. It sent chills down my spine. He refused, and instead offered to deliver a letter to you, which I am currently writing. I’m unsure if I should trust him, but I have no other leads, and this might be the only way to reach you. 

I have no idea how you know this wretched man, or what you have become entwined in, but my dear, I promise I will rescue you. Should this reach you, I will be staying at the Rosemary inn on the edge of town. I beg of you to meet me there. Please, my dove, fly back to me.


Forever yours,

Doyle



Doyle—

Forgive me, I know my absence has been alarming to you, and I hate to think of you in pain. You were my dearest companion for most of my life, and to know you went through such trouble to find me is heartbreaking, though I am deeply touched by your efforts. The coachman, Sloan, even said you tried following him to see where he was delivering your letter. You were always clever—a trait I deeply admire you for—but you learn fast not to try tricking him. I’ve seen quite a lot in my time away from home, but none are as puzzling as that man. It would do you well to treat him with dignity and respect. 

I will not meet you at the Rosemary. There’s no rescue necessary, no danger to save me from, and I will not be returning to my parents house. There is no life for me there. 

I have decided to elope, and by the time you read this I will already be on the Pacific, ready to start a new life. Believe me when I say running out of my debutante was possibly the first good decision I ever made. If I had stayed I would never have come to this small town. I would have never met Amani and fallen in love with her. Can you believe it, Doyle? I’m in love. I never thought it was possible.

I will try my best to explain these past months, though so much has happened I am unsure if it will be intelligible. Even if I manage I’m sure you won't believe me.

The first month was a blur, a hazy mess of liquor and traveling, which I do not recall most of. My first clear memory is of entering the Black Bear. I flirted with the men, and danced along with the women, indulging in the freedom that exists out of high society. I ate and drank like I did many times before, and ended the night sitting alone talking to the bartender. I asked if he knew anywhere to stay, and he said there was an inn on the edge of town that always had a spare room. 

“But I’d be careful.” He said to me in a hushed tone. “If you’re travelin’ across town, it's best you do after the sun comes up. It’s dangerous to walk the streets before sunrise.” 

I laughed and said I wasn’t afraid of the dark, and besides the streetlamps were enough. He shook his head, saying I didn’t understand, and that I should stay at the bar for the rest of the night. I once again refused, saying I appreciated his concern, but that I could handle myself. He sighed and stared out the window for a while before returning his gaze to me. 

“Be careful. I’d hurry.”

I left the bar, not because of his warnings, but out of a new sense of discomfort. In my arrogance I thought he was senile, but looking back I should have heeded his warning. Not that it matters now, but it began a series of unwise decisions I am lucky to have survived. I strolled along the cobblestone path, following the bartender’s directions, and taking in the scenery. The town was beautiful under the moonlight, the lanterns creating a warm glow on the empty streets. I was enchanted by it, and stood letting the summer breeze cool down my booze warmed body.

I turned my gaze to a side street, where suddenly there was something on the ground in the distance where there wasn’t before. Curious, I walked towards it, and as I got closer I realized it was someone laying in the road. I screamed, and felt a chasm open in my stomach as I saw the blood on the pavement, the man clutching at his neck where the blood was spewing from. He looked at me, and I saw the last bit of recognition in his eyes before they fell shut. In my horror I stood there, paralyzed, watching the blood travel between the cracks in the cobblestone. I hear far away footsteps, and look up to see a wolf walking towards me.

It snaps me out of my daze, and I step backwards, turning and running back the way I came. I could hear the wolf's footsteps speed up behind me, getting louder and louder, until something jumped on my back, making me crash into the ground. My front side scraped the ground, hands and cheek burning as the stone cut into my skin. I tried getting up, but I felt something holding me down. I expected it to be the wolf, to feel its teeth rip into me at any moment, but instead I felt a hand grabbing me by my hair. It pulled me up, exposing my neck, brushing its teeth along my vein. My mind went blank, until all that was left was pure fear. An unexpected surge of power coursed through me, and I used all my strength to roll myself over, kicking the person off of me. And that was the first time I saw her.

She was standing over me, glimmering in the moonlight, the blood on her face trickling down the front of her dress. Her eyes were wild, her hunger apparent in her snarl as she crawled back over to me. I managed to get myself back on my feet, running once more to the inn, hoping someone could help. I looked back and saw her getting ready to lunge again, so I made a sharp turn down an alleyway, barely escaping her attack. Of course the victory was only temporary, as she slammed me against a wall. I pushed her away, leaned down, grabbed a bottle, and broke it over her head, but it made no difference. All I felt was a force grabbing my hand and pushing me against the wall, once more pinning me under her weight. For a moment she gazed into my eyes. I could feel the blood pouring through my veins with the rise and fall of my chest, but as our bodies were pressed together I could not feel anything inside of her. There was no panic running through her, no heartbeat. She breathed as though she didn’t need to. 

She pushed my head back towards the wall and ripped the top of my dress, exposing my neck, then biting me. My body felt weak, all the blood pooling out of my neck. My vision blurred, and all I could feel was her tongue lapping up everything she was stealing out of me. The more she drank, the weaker I felt, and the stronger her grip on me became. Suddenly I felt her jaw release me. She cursed under her breath, and let go, dropping me to the floor. The last thing I saw before passing out was the first rays of the sunrise passing over the buildings around us. 

I woke up in an infirmary surrounded by people I didn’t know. I was told by the doctor that I was given a blood transfusion, and that survival rates were low, but not unheard of. Despite this, I recovered quickly, and by the end of the day was allowed to be escorted to the inn where I would stay until I could afford a place of my own. When I arrived I was greeted by the bartender from the Black Bear. I apologized for ignoring his warnings. He informed me that everyone thought there was a killer on the loose, and that I was his latest victim. I told him, “I’m sorry, I don't know what he looks like, I can’t remember what happened.” He looked at me like he knew I was lying, and he pressed a rosary into my hands. 

“Your sickness is not over. Do not walk at night again.” 

He was right, the worst was yet to come. Two weeks went by with me feeling fine. I got a job mending clothes, and started setting up a small routine for myself. I would have breakfast at the inn, go to work, banter with the ladies, then have dinner, and return to my room at night. I kept the rosary on me at all times, just in case, until one day I left it on the counter at work. By the time I returned to my room, I was vomiting, blood spurting out of my mouth at every heave. It would stop for a moment, and I would breathe, before it started up again, my body giving out beneath me. Until suddenly I heard a tapping at the window. 

I looked up and saw her again. Hovering in the air, her dreaded hair swayed in the wind. It was all the way down to her thighs. Her skin was dark, reflecting the moonlight off her high cheekbones. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She tapped the window again.

“May I come in?” I stared at her, and moved to open the window, then threw up again. I shook my head no. “You’re dying. I can help you.” I grabbed the stoker from the unlit fireplace, and carefully opened the window, keeping my weapon in front of me at all times. I waited for her to enter. 

“May I come in?” She repeats. I swallow.

“Yes.”

She ducked her head under the window frame, and entered the room, her bare feet finally making contact with the floor. 

“You can put that down. I’m not here to harm you.”

“I apologize, but you can understand how I find that hard to believe.” I raise my weapon to her throat. She laughs.

“You’re dying and you’re threatening the only person that can help.” My stomach dropped, and I fell once more to my knees, the blood leaking from my throat again. “I can save you. All you have to do is let me.” I stared in her eyes, asking her to explain. “I will bite you again, then you’ll bite me. The transformation will be complete.” My eyes widen as I understood what she meant. 

“No.”

“It’s the only option you have. That rosary won’t help forever.” My vision blurs, and the room spins around me. I curled up on myself, feeling the world collapse around me. She put her hand under my chin, and lifted my head to hers. “Let me help you. Please.” I felt my heartbeat getting weaker.

“Okay.”

She lunges towards my neck and sucks the rest of my blood out of my body, then reveals hers and forces my teeth into her flesh. The taste of the blood was revolting, but the more I drank, the sweeter it became. I felt my body replenishing, and my new life under the moonlight began.

I hope you can understand why I can no longer meet you. I will leave Sloan with a large sum of money for you, we have no use for it anymore. I hope it makes up for all the trouble I caused. Do not worry for me, my dear.


—Liora



August 26, 2023 03:56

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