Him
The colors red and black glisten in the dark of the small room. The moonlight coming in through the drapes framing the middle of the floor like a pretty picture. Hair the color of chocolate fans out around a face as dark as cocoa and eyes like black stars, glittering with life so many minutes ago, now dark and vitality drained. He stands in the corner, just out of sight, and picks up an old gun, sitting on the nightstand where she'd run not too many minutes ago. He puts the bullets back in and sets it back in its' place. He had let her run for it, he'd let her try to pull the trigger only to find it empty... and he smiled.
Her
She wakes up to light shining in through her windows. The light of day always makes her feel alive and full of energy. She bounces out of bed and into the bathroom. She removes her shirt, her underwear, and gets in the shower. She sighs in happiness at the feeling of warmth that permeates her being. When she is finished, she dresses for work. She works as a police officer, special division. A division that deals with those who are dead.
I sigh as I look at my uniform, body armor and black netting. Looks sexy don't get me wrong, I love it but I just don't like what it represents. Death. Maybe it's for those who are already dead but I detested killing, finding it beneath me. But I must wipe those creatures from the face of the earth. The loathsome creatures that beckon for death with their very existence. So I suck it up and do what needs to be done. I pull out my cross and strap it on. It goes over my chest, it sort of sits in between by breasts, as frightfully small as they are, and rubs over them with its' arms when I move too vigorously. I pick up my gun and head out the front door. The rounds in my gun were filled with blessed wood splinters. If you hit them in the heart, it was a sure death. If not, it at least slowed them down.
I march out of my room and into the mess hall, everyone is already there, having breakfast and waiting for the stragglers to be ready. We were on duty from eight a.m. till eight p.m. we had the best shift there was. Rarely ever were there vampires out in the sunshine and rarely did we lose more than a handful of men every year. We didn't wake up at ungodly hours or stay up to them. We had enough people to cover both time constraints. Eight to eight. Nine to seven. I got some breakfast and waited for a seat to reveal itself to me. I didn't have friends, I didn't acquaint myself with others very often. I find a seat on the floor down the hall, eat my food, and throw away my dishes when I'm done. They were plastic. I walk back to the barracks and pick up extra clips for my guns. I walk outside, waiting in the sun, soaking up its' shining energy and reveling in the light of life and good.
I could almost feel sorry for the people who were changed. They never got to experience the sun again. Not unless they were especially strong and resilient to the light of day. But I fell short of feeling bad for them, just so. I sigh and step into the very dark van, hearing others march to my location and feeling the truck dip with their weight. We were going on rounds, it was normal, everyday. What wasn't normal was the hit we got on the sensor. A vampire was out in the daytime, and he was killing. We rushed to the scene of course, the bumping of the van making me somewhat sick, as it was relatively far away. We stopped, the doors opened and we stepped out into the sunlight to find a home in the middle of suburbia with blood staining a window and the insides of the room. We looked into that window and saw the body of a black woman with long tresses lying on the floor.
