She laughs a malevolent laugh as she stares at the full moon. The knife in her hand, not yet sullied by the life it was to take, gleams in the darkness, a deadly mirror reflecting the mirror in the sky. She barely notices how cold it is, though her breath is visible, gently reminding her that she left her coat in the car. There is a playful sense of fear guiding her through the field, away from the voice behind her that screams her name. Just how dangerous the moment is, she has no idea, but her feet continue their course, subconsciously keeping her from harm.
Memories of mere seconds ago were already fading. She had escaped from the car and, fortuitously, managed to grab the knife on her way out. There was no recognition of how lucky she was as she rolled away from the still moving vehicle. Simple reflex had put the knife into the ground, rather than into her own flesh. As she pulled the blade from the dirt, the area around her brightened as the car's reverse lights quickly activated. For no reason other than instinct, she took off into the awaiting shadows.
"Where the fuck are you?"
The voice is closer than she hopes. Remembering a lesson in reacting without question, she hits the ground and begins crawling through the field. What she is looking for is somewhere in this field. Torn between choosing and having a choice made for her, she remains still as the voice approaches. Unsure of which emotions should take precedence, she almost giggles as bootprints leave impressions a few inches from her face. By circumstance she is dressed all in black, much like her pursuer, and hard to see. A glint of moonlight, however, allows her to see his face.
White and pale, his lips are deep red. Hair slicked back in menacing style, accentuated by the flowing cape. It appears rather cliche, though her thoughts are as far from making the literary connection as possible. In any other moment, she would have been drawn to him, but now she has something else on her mind.
As he walks away, she slowly turns and crawls in the other direction. The chance remains that she is heading back towards the car, but the bigger threat is the man, whatever his intentions.
Then, almost by accident, she find its. In an instant, she raises the knife and thrusts, slashing her way to her goal.
"Got you!" she yells, unaware of the heavily-breathing silhouette behind her.
A gloved hand grabs her wrist and twists her body around violently. Her smile freezes in a gasp. The man licks blood from his lips, eyes narrowed in murderous thought.
"I hope you're happy," he says, as the car drives away. "I bit my tongue on these stupid fangs."
"Serves you right. I just wanted a pumpkin," she teases, oversized orange fruit propped auspiciously on her lap. She smiles at her handiwork, proud of her stolen prize. "Should've taken me when the patch was open."
"Can I have the knife back?"
"No," she says with a kiss.
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