“Dear Mr. King,” I am typing. I don’t know if I still have to call him “Mr.” I’d rather entitle it “Dear Phillip,” but I think better of it; I knew I ought to say “Mr.” just to be polite. “I’d like to see you again. Perhaps you could tell me where that coffee shop you like is, and we could hang out there sometime? I’d like to hear all about what you’re teaching these days and all about Sarah. I’d like to tell you about college. We could talk about what we’re reading these days. Please email me back. ?.”

I wonder to myself if that sounds too pathetic. But I have to send it. I don’t know what has happened, but the past few weeks, I couldn’t get him out of my head. I had always had a crush on him, but I thought maybe if we were friends, I would be able to let it go. Or make it something more. Yeah right. Like he would take my sorry butt. “Anyway he has Sarah,” I think. But that’s beside the point.

Phillip King is my old science teacher with a passion for reading literature who teaches at the high school I graduated from. When asked why he taught science instead, he answered “I couldn’t decide which one I liked best.” His favorite book piece of literature is Hamlet. He is tan, and beautiful, and I adore him. I had caught him looking at me often in high school, and once I thought he was going to say something about it, but he never did. I graduated last year, and moved on to college. But I had never forgotten about him.

As for me, I am a freshman at a small college in Connecticut. I live about twenty minutes away, so I commute each day. I love to read. I am a not very attractive to boys my age. I’m not popular. It could be the huge tortoise shell glasses I wear, or it could be the taste for lit I have. It could be that I’m so skinny and wimpy with stringy blond hair that boys my age are turned off. Or it could just be something about my demeanor that I don’t know of. But I’ve always been sort of an outcast. My favorite book is Great Expectations. I don’t know why I like Great Expectations. It’s a s***ty story, and I had to read it in high school when no one else read it. But I still like it. There’s just something about Pip and Estella.
But anyway. I am a lowly college freshman with no boyfriend, and not many friends. I think this is mostly because of my stringy hair and weird blotchy skin that everyone used to make fun of in high school. I am majoring in psychology, even though reading is my favorite hobby, because I want to be able to help people with mental illness. I want to be a clinical psychologist. And hopefully I will be, because right now I have the grades. Mostly A’s, with a few B’s in such nasty subjects as math and philosophy (ugh). F*** those classes, you know? I live with my parents, Mary and Josh. They are very kind people, but also rather annoying.
I sit quietly for a few minutes after I send the email. I stare at the black shiny keys of my laptop, and feel the warm breeze sway the thin white curtain. A smile creeps onto my face. “Amy, It’s time for dinner,” my mother yells up the stairs. “We’re about to say grace.” I hop down the stairs to find a delicious feast of sliced oranges and mango, and other various foods scattered on the shiny black wooden table top. “Yum,” I say happily, and sit down.
…

Now it’s Saturday. I am very grateful for the chance to relax from school. As I open my eyes, and rub the crusties away, I suddenly remember the email I sent. I leap out of my bed, which is covered with pink blankets, and nearly knock over my alarm clock and my collection of books that are stacked everywhere. I race to the computer in the upstairs room, and open my yahoo email. And what do I find but…
“Dear Amy,
I would love to see you again. The coffee shop
is at the corner of fourth and main. I am doing
well with teaching, but not so well with Sarah. I
will tell you about it when I see you. What days
are good for you? I’d love to hear about college
and what you’re reading. Please tell me what
time and day is good for you and we can meet
then and talk about everything. Thank you .
Phillip”

I write back excitedly, that Fridays and Saturdays after 4:00 are good for me, and add a little happy face. Then I dance around the room with glee, and clap my hands together excitedly.

A ping sounds as I dance, and I stop and stare at the computer. It’s a new email from him. Slowly I lean forward and click on it, and what do I behold but, “How about today at 4:30?”

I tremble with excitement, and check the clock. It’s nearly eleven. That gives me five and a half hours. I write back “Sure, I’ll see you then,” with shaking hands.

The next five hours are but a flurry of getting ready, as I try to look really good, but pretty casual so he won’t know anything was up. Finally I decide on a light brown fitted sweater, and nice jeans. Then I take the next half an hour the walk the cloudy Connecticut streets to the corner of fourth and main.

When I get there, I sink down into a big comfy soft brown chair and looked at my surroundings. The sign above the door had said “The Magnetic Bean.” I glance at all the comfortable looking sofas and booths, and wonder what “The Magnetic Bean” means, while I wait for Mr. King. I mean Phillip. I don’t have to call him Mr. King anymore. I decide “The Magnetic Bean” has something to do with the addictive power of coffee. The walls are a deep red, with lots of decorative mirrors and paintings on them. All the sofas are different dark colors or patterns, which compliment the walls perfectly.

When he walks in the door, I gasp slightly at how sexy his slick, long, dark brown hair that curves down to the sides of his face, and his gray eyes that flash with sparks of intelligence are. I stare at his slight, but muscular build, which I knew he had because he loves to run a few miles each morning. He looks around, sees me, smiles, and comes to sit down at a table right next to my chair. “Well, you look comfortable,” he states lightly.
“This is a great place,” I say eagerly. “I love all the sofas. They all look so comfortable.” He just smiles. I giggle nervously a little bit. His smile widens.
“What’s so funny?” he asks, with a twinkle in his sensuous gray eyes.
“Nothing,” I say smiling back.
“No, really. Why are you laughing?” he asks genuinely interested.
“Well….” I hesitate, not sure if I should continue.
“Yes?” His smile gets even wider, if that’s possible.
“It’s just so nice to see you,” I say blushing.
“It’s great to see you too,” he states kindly. “I’m glad you wrote me. I’ve been meaning to ask how you’re doing. How is college going?”

“Oh pretty well. I love my major, but everyone thinks I’m a freak… Oh s***, I didn’t mean to say that!”

“What do you mean you’re a freak?” he asks, seemingly concerned. “I think you’re very pretty.”

“Oh..” I blushed again, “It’s just that…everyone seems to be silently laughing at my stringy hair and blotchy skin…”

He stares at me, incredulous for a moment. And then he lifts his rough tan hands and places them on the sides of my face. “Amy,” he said, “You are absolutely beautiful, and very smart, and interestingly quirky. Don’t let anyone tell you you’re
not.”

If I had thought I knew what it meant to blush before, it was nothing compared to the redness of my face now. I avert my eyes and say quietly “Thank you.” Then, to change the subject before I get any more embarrassed, I ask quickly, “What happened to Sarah?”
“Oh she just disappeared one night,” he says, awkwardly, which is strange for him because he’s never akward. “She’s not the only one though. There have been some mysterious disappearances lately. Children have been reported missing where I teach.”
“What…?” I gasp. I have to stifle my glee about Sarah being missing, but I am genuinely concerned for the children.
“Let’s forget about that and talk about something more pleasant,” he says, regaining his smooth demeanor.
We get into a discussion of books, which lasts for hours. By the time I check my watch, it was nearly eight. I can’t believe we talked for so long.
“Do you need a ride home, Amy?” he asks with concern. I shake my head, but he puts a hand on my shoulder and ushers me out the door towards his light blue Cobalt. My skin tingles with magic where his hand was as we climb into his car. He starts driving, and I look out the window as he drives. The clouds are beautiful puffy white, with a tint of purple as though about to gush forth water droplets, in the dull grey sky. I turn my face to look at him.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
He just smiles showing his sparkling white teeth. I had noticed that he’d been smiling a lot today. Suddenly I start to feel uncomfortable. He is a lot older than me, and a hell of a lot stronger. What if something were to go wrong? I mean, I trust him, but… You never know. People can be creeps.

We pulled up to his house. It was all red brick and white trim. It was just beautiful. He offers me his hand. My face must be giving my thoughts away because he leans toward my ear and whispers “Don’t worry Amy. I won’t hurt you.”
So despite my misgivings, I get out of the car and walk up the stone walkway to his house. I take a second look at the house and start to feel better. Nothing bad could happen in this beautiful house. Besides, Phillip would never hurt me. On the doorstep, before we go in, he pulls a piece of wrapped candy out of his pocket and offers it to me. I take it, pleased, and pop it in my mouth, and proceeded to walk inside the house. The inside is even better. The walls are a comforting brown, and books and papers are strewn everywhere. I feel completely at home instantly. I love it, and tell him so.

“I’m glad you like it,” he says, looking into my eyes. I stare back into his, and feel myself shaking a little. I suddenly feel very dizzy. I look at the pattern of his grey irises, and try to make out the soul there. I get nervous, and try to turn away, but his strong hands reach out and gently take my shoulders. He spins me around so quickly I don’t have time to think, I catch a flash of his grey eyes, and then…

“Ohh!” I thought. His soft lips are on mine. I can’t believe it. I place my hands on his back, and I cab feel the muscles there, under his grey shirt that brings out the color in his eyes. I still can’t believe this was happening. It had all happened so quickly… I mean, I’d wanted it to happen, that was why I’d emailed him. Because I couldn’t get him off of my mind. But we had been talking for what felt like no time, and suddenly, I was at his house and then he was kissing me…

He pulls back, takes my hand, and pulls me toward his bedroom. My will power melts, and I am swept off my feet as he closes the door behind us.
…

The room is dark with many shady corners, and very black curtains. He pulls me toward him and continues to kiss me. Suddenly I feel something hard, sharp, and very cold press against the skin of my lips. Something warm trickles down my chin, and when I pull back because of the pain, I begin to scream. Right before my eyes there are two very shiny white fangs in a red bloody dripping mouth. His grey eyes spark, but not with intelligence, as I had always thought it was. This time they spark with evil. “Mr. King!” I cry helplessly. He just laughs. “I gave you a hint little girl. If you were too stupid to pick up on it, then this is your own fault. It’s a shame really. I thought you were smart.”
“But, but… You went outside… I saw you in all the mirrors in the coffee shop.”
“Exactly. Vampires have been liberated from the laws of their kind recently by the Gods above so that they may better take over the Earth without suspicion.”
“More like liberated by the devil’s power probably,” I mutter. “If you are liberated, then why is your room so dark?”
“Because I find it more sensuous to kill in the dark,” he says evilly.
He lunges toward me. I throw myself backwards and search helplessly for something to protect myself with. Suddenly I have an idea. I scurry behind a black curtain, as the sound of his maniacal laughter fills the room. I pull back my arm, and slam it as hard as I can into the frosted glass of the window. I climb out as quickly as I can. I know he can’t follow me with his fangs still showing like that, but the blood streaming from my arm has to be a tempting lure, so I run as fast as my dizziness, which I now realize was from the candy he had given me, will allow. His big hand catches my arm and his fingers press into my skin. I cry out and wrench my arm free. I start to run. Streetlamps and tree branches fly by in the black night, and I race along, trying not to stumble, as fast as I can. When I look back, I can see him following me. I know he’ll catch up, but… The second time I look behind me he has simply stopped with what looks to be a smile of realization. He just lets me go. I don’t stop to consider what this could mean or why. When I get to my house, I go to the bathroom and wash the blood off my arm. Then I make a bandage for it, and wrap my torn skin tenderly. After that, I turn on my computer, delete all of Mr. King’s emails from my inbox, and slip quietly into the softness of my sheets on my pink bed. I am so dizzy and exhausted that I fall asleep instantly.
…

The next day, when I wake up, I am in my own bed. As I remember the night before, I shudder to think how close I had come to being a late night snack. My quick thinking was the only thing that had saved me. And this, I tell myself, is how I have learned never to take candy from a stranger, even if it’s not really a stranger, but someone you think you know. You never know, he or she could be a f***ing raging vampire, I think sourly. I cross over to the silver framed mirror hung on my wall, and smile into it just to reassure myself that everything is okay, and what do I see staring back at me but a pair of sparkly white fangs. Now I know why he’d smiled, and why he’d let me get away. “Oh s***,” I think, “Now I’m a freaking vampire.”
…

I feel a presence behind me. I turn around and stare out my window as the gorgeous man I thought I’d always loved looks at me with a glimmer of something in his grey eyes.

“Hey…” he says delicately.

“What are you doing here?” I ask with sudden rising anger in my voice. “How could you do this to me? You tried to kill me!”

“I… I… wasn’t really going to kill you. I was only trying to turn you into my kind. I was just fooling around with the killing stuff…”

“Well it wasn’t funny! You think you can get away with trying to take over the Earth, but you can’t. If there’s one thing I promise to you, it’s that I’ll make sure you never succeed. “

“I made that part up too… I just wanted…”

“You wanted what? Lost your words now Mr. Slick? Didn’t see that one coming, English Professor,” I sneer.

He stands speechless and just stares at me with a look in his eyes that I can’t place because I’m so filled with anger and hate.

“I’ve always loved you Amy. I just wanted some company. That’s why I tried to change you. Please don’t be angry with me…’

I ponder this for a moment, letting the anger subside. I stare into his beautiful grey eyes, and think for a long few moments. I’ve finally decided on the right thing to say.
“Damn you,” I say deliberately, “for all eternity,” with no trace of irony in my voice.
…
Epilogue:

Amy went on as a protector of the human kind, killing all vampires that tried to drink more blood from humans than was necessary to stay alive. She would let a vampire drink enough so that they were full, but not enough to kill the human. She upheld her strong belief that no one should be turned into a vampire against their will, and went on to fight for this belief as well. She battled her affections for Phillip for the rest of eternity, but she could never forgive him for turning her into something she didn’t want to be. At one point, she told him, “Love means not changing the other person, it means accepting them as they are. If you really loved me, you would have left me human.”

Phillip went on to grieve several hundreds of years for Amy’s love, but after that he moved on and devoted himself to writing and illustrating fairy tales for humans, as a tribute to his love of literature. He published under assumed names, and it may be up to debate, but it was rumored in the vampire world that his illustrations always had a slight resemblance of Amy. Whether this was intentional or not, and whether Phillip ever truly forgot the student that changed his (immortal) life, is unknown.

The End