Headfirst For Halos

“I’m frank. I play guitar and dance hard.”
He sat on the edge of my windowsill, the moonlight glowing off his black wool sweater that smugly fit his thinly frame. The dim moonlight created a blinding haze to my unadjusted eyes in the darkness, and shadows stretched across the floor of my bedroom into pitch-dark pits. He was silhouetted against the moonlight filtering into my room by the open window, and every once in a while he would till his head one way or the other as if in deep thought. His eyes in his foreshadowed face seemed to be glowing, like that of a cat’s when light reflects off its eyes. They were an unnatural glint of smoldering amber that blinked in response to my every breath. His hands were placed on the windowsill, which he sat, and by the starry light I saw something like a tattoo of stitches wrapped around his wrist.
I began to calm down as my heart stopped hammering my chest and my sudden alarm relaxed. My breath was a little shaky as I tired to pulled myself together.
“What’s your name?” His sentimental voice piped up in the silent darkness. I suddenly felt very awkward.
“Ju-Julie….” I stuttered.
“Oh, that’s a nice name.” He complemented, “What do you do?”
I just sat there blankly in the silence. I saw his silhouette tip its head.
“I play guitar and dance hard, what do you do?” he asked again expectantly.
Well, I must admit, I never thought of that of that before. I quickly tried to think of something I was good at, but my mind was blank from shock.
“Um…. I…write and…. dance? Hard?” I hesitated. He began to swing his feet as I saw the tips of his also black shoes appear and disappear in the flood of unusually bright moonlight flooding my bedroom.
“Oh, you write… “ he sounded quite amazed, “Are you a writer or a novelist? Or a poet? Lyricist? Screen writer? Depressionist? Oh, an author?”
I, again, with bewilder, blankly stared at him. Well, when in doubt, stick to what you know, I guess.
“Um…I’m a writer…” I said quietly.
“Oh, I should have known, you look very writer-like.” His head tipped again. “Writers are very good people at heart. They don’t care about, or give a shit for that matter, what they write as long as they are happy with it.” He acknowledged me with a nod.
For some reason, I suddenly became inpatient with the darkness that would not let me see. I squinted trying to make sense of things, but my stupid eyes didn’t help at all. I caught site of my night table in the moonlight. I shift my eyes toward his silhouette, with caution. I then daringly and quickly reached out my arm and switched on my night lamp.
Instantly, a blinding yellowish glow illuminated my entire room and almost blinded my already stressed eyes. I heard a surprised scream and a thud on the fake plastic floor of my bedroom. I slowly opened my eyes against the bright yellow aurora to see ‘Frank’ flash frozen into some sort of crinkled state on the floor, his face hidden in his arms. After a few seconds of him not reacting, I began to be wary.
“Frank?” I whispered out his name. He did not flinch.
“Frank….” I whispered louder. He didn’t move. I bit my lip and cautiously took a step out of bed.
Just as I lifted the sheets off, I suddenly saw an eye ball peek from under the twisted arms and messed up hair, and saw it frantically searching the room, blazing with panic. It then suddenly met my eyes. My heart lurched. I stood petrified staring back equally in shock.
After a moment, his arms pulled away from his face and he lifted himself off the ground on all fours. I watched breathlessly as he fixed his hair and dusted off his black wool sweater accompanied by black pants and shoes. I could see from where I sat, he was small, just as tall as me and thin as well. He then looked up at me, sitting on my bed in a tangle of sheets.
He had black hair streaking down the left side of his face, partially covering his left eye. His right eye was a dark hazel in the light and it seemed to be rimmed with a sort of eyeliner or eye shadow. A warm smile spread across his face as I gazed at him. His face was like that puppy as corny as it sounds, round and happy and just lovable in that sense. He held out his arms in a gesture of ‘tada!’.
“I’m still here! I though that was the sun for a second. False alarm.” He slightly laughed. I actually felt my body ripple with goose bumps. I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.
He studied me for a second by the lamplight, a frown appeared on his face.
“Are you okay? You look a little pale for a human, if I say so myself…” he trailed off.

For a human? A sense of dread stirred my gut.

I opened my mouth but nothing came out. I struggled to say the right words.
“Are-aren’t you a…. h-human?” I choked out the words afraid of an answer.
He looked at me a little confused.
“You’ve never seen a vampire before?” he asked in disbelief. I couldn’t believe my ears.
“Vampire?!” I practically shrieked. I scattered away from him into my bed once again, I stared at him with alarm and fear again.
“No, it’s okay! Really…. I-I don’t bite! I swear!” He tried to coax me out, his face looked hurt as he peered into the bottom bunk were I was hiding.
“Trust me! If I came in here for blood, you’d be a human raisin by now!” My eyes widened at his remark.
“You broke into my window and scared the living shit out of me and now your telling me your vampire? ….to trust you?” I was now outraged more than horrified. He looked hurt enough to make your heart break, but I still gave him no sympathy. What was he? Who the hell does he think he is! My dad?

My mind was racing with panic as I stared at him; absolutely horrified and pretty certain I was about die. Either from a heart attack or having my blood sucked. It didn’t even occur to me if he was a real vampire or not, vampires don’t exist…right?