Good evening and welcome to my humble abode. Let Renaldo take your coat. Come sit by the fire and warm your bones, it's mighty cold out. Indulge in a snifter of brandy, or a glass of red wine. {to sweeten your blood before I dine..} So relax, be my guest make your home mine. The dining room is open, though I'm sorry I must decline. We'll retire to the den after you're fed. {for you'll be my meal before I'm to bed}.
Go ahead settle in, get comfortable, here use my old chair. As the clock strikes on ten I'll be joining you there. ....So how was your feast? 'bet your belt must be tight. Aren't you glad that you came to my house tonight? A fireside chat is in order. Which can oft times be merry, til the coals go grey and the tales become scary. Renaldo, dear boy, bring us more wine. And remember to make my guest's serving much larger than mine.
I can see from your expression that you've been watching the clock. I know it's late, but after our drinks can we go for a walk? Out in the garden where the rose bushes are fresh and green. I'll show you something that you've never seen. So drink up my friend and Renny will bring you your coat. Oh and do up those buttons it's mighty cool out.
...The air is so crisp, and you're looking rather sleepy. So now I shall quench my thirst, which has been building so sweetly. Come sit beside me out here in the dark. Don't worry, no one will see us, it's my private park. Lean close, let me kiss you, feel my cool touch on your cheek. Wrap your arms around me, gaze into my eyes, and I promise to make it painless when you die. The warmth of your skin feels like heaven on my lips. So I part them for that deadly bite and take my first sip.
You whimper, and struggle, but I won't let you stray. Until I drink all your blood and your life fades away. Your skin is paling, and your heart is failing, but I must have that last drop. You go limp in my arms, for your heart has just stopped. I lay you down at the foot of the hedge. The secret of my roses' blooms so dark red, is that they feed upon the innocent lives that I've shed.
So I pluck a fresh bloom, tucking it into my hair. Then I turn away just leaving you lying there. The first flakes of snow start to fall. With a whisper so soft, though you can't hear me at all, I say. "Good night my sweet feast, I'm finished, you're dead."
@--;-- K.S.