Ancient Aztec lore tells of the vampire goddess of agriculture Itzopapalotl or obsidian knife butterfly.
She is able to shape-shift unto a butterfly and was described a beautiful winged woman with jaguar claws on her fingertips and carried a stone knife.
The kinife was her personificatiom as the ritual knife she was as blood thirsty as the other gods in her pantheon. There was no need for her to hunt for her prey (although she did do it at times) she expected her subjects to bring fresh blood to her.
She was killed by Mixcoatl who shot her with an arrow her body was burned to ash.
The bedroom is all painted. The furniture has been reassembled and put back in place. Our company is headed for Nevada. It was fun seeing them again. We went out to dinner a couple of times. It’s the least I could do, since they did all the work while I was at the paycheck job.
We hit one nice restaurant Friday night. Last night we went to a brewpub called The Ram. We got seated just as the Boise State game was looking grim. My brother in law decided to cheer for New Mexico. He really doesn’t care, but likes annoying people. We managed to eat and escape with our lives. Truth is, he’s a Nevada Wolfpack fan. (BSU won)
I managed to coil up and store the hoses, but still need to change the furnace filter.
I headed for the writing cabin. I’m not going to get a thing…
With his weapon leading the way, Detective Hal Jones stepped into a darkened alley and his foot slipped into something mushy coating the asphalt. Redirecting his flashlight, he swept the beam down and surveyed his footwear. Carefully shined before he’d left for shift tonight, the shoe had sunk deep into the large splatter, spoiling the polished leather.
Brown and holding a disgusting fluidity, the excrement emitted a sickening odor which launched bile up Hal’s gullet. Steam rose from the pile in lethargic plumes, indicating its freshness. The flashlight beam glinted off metal, the wedding band still attached to a finger on half a hand, protruding from the feces.
Hal recognized the ring immediately, yet quashed the flush of sadness at knowing his buddy had become monster fodder. Metal trash cans banged noisily in the alley depths, and Hal pointed the handgun that way, letting the flashlight beam part…
NB: This piece of fiction contains some mild erotica.
Her nipples were hard—but that could have been because of the chill hanging like a cloud in the room. Her pussy was wet due to the arousal crawling through her. Panting in excited lust, Frieda stared at the knife slicing easily through meat.
Klaus swallowed the morsel already in his mouth and pierced this new portion with his fork. Candlelight glinted across the surface of blood as it dribbled from flesh. Pushing the slab into his mouth, he sucked on its rawness. Blood squirted through his lips, tracing lines down his chin. Klaus didn’t bother reaching for his napkin; his dinner guest knew how he ate and she didn’t mind about the mess.
Frieda watched the new arrival—Helga her name was— snuggle into Klaus’ side as he wrapped an arm over her shoulder and pulled her close.