ii

‘I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye,’ the boy had said, as he stood outside the front door.

There before him was a lifesaver, an angel, who would sustain him in the hellish days ahead.

He couldn’t help but smile as he invited the boy inside.

The boy had watched wide-eyed as he’d poured the wine and wondered why they hadn’t done this before. Then they’d supped and made small talk about the state of the world, small pleasures, and ships in the night.

And things that bite.

‘How old are you, boy from next door?’

‘Nineteen,’ he’d replied. ‘Old enough to know what you do.’

‘Maybe so,’ he’d smiled back, ‘but are you old enough to know what I need?’

They’d turned the record over and drank more wine as truths were shared and confessions made. The boy aspired to a life he could not attain. He needed blood to sustain his body and soul.

It was a match made in Heaven.

Or Hell.

Then, when the moon had fallen from the black velvet sky, the boy had risen to take his leave.

‘Don’t go,’ he’d petitioned, before pressing his lips to the boy’s. ‘We can get through this together.’

Photo by iCliff Agendia : https://www.pexels.com/photo/close-up-of-pouring-wine-into-glass-12861281/