At Dusk

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So very sterile, so very clean as if to smell a clean fragrance. She capitalizes on this, at dusk she smells their blood, and the smell of it drives her wild.  She doesn’t hesitate making her entrance. It’s strange for her, of the different brands of blood, the different types of blood, which she knows are now ever present.

There she was going about her way through the night, a strategy of hers, these were her quick bursts, ‘Quickies’ energy for the hunt. She hurries along as if their blood, each one person calling out to her.

How they turn around so quickly but they cannot communicate, not after seeing her, not thoroughly enough, the sight of her is shocking.

She claims, “I cannot think straight. I smell the blood.”

She wants to suck their blood.

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