Next Time You'll Know Better

Have you ever walked into a room and found a vampire?

No, not the good looking kind, but a foul creature with bony limbs and ashen skin? The one that snarls as you enter, like a best about to pounce? The kind that roots you to the spot with its sunken hypnotic eyes, rendering you unable to flee as you watch the hideous thing uncoil from the shadows? Has your heart started racing through your legs refuse to? Have you ever felt time slow as the creature crosses the room in the darkness of a blink?

Have you shuddered with fear when it places one clawed hand atop your head and another under your chin so it can tilt you, exposing your neck? Have you squirmed as its rough, dry tongue slides down your cheek, over your jaw, to your throat in a slithering search that's seeking artery? Have you felt its hot breath release in a hiss against your skin when it probes your pulse-the flow that leads to your brain? Has its tongue rested there, throbbing slightly as if savouring the moment? Have you ever then experienced a sinking, sucking blackness as you discover that not all vampires feed on blood-some feed on memories?

Well, have you?

Maybe not. But let me rephrase the question:

Have you ever walked into a room and suddenly forgotten why you came in?