Paris by Night.

I am writing this under appreciable duress. A full and true account of my death must be told, and it lies with me to tell it. No other soul knows the truth. And, god willing, no other soul will ever need to.

I suppose I should start at the beginning. Anna and I met in Paris in the summer of 1915. The two of us were young, struggling writers living in Paris paycheck to paycheck. She wrote for a struggling newspaper, while I was a simple fiction writer who had pretensions of being a starving artist striving for more. Looking back I must have been positively insufferable. But Anna either looked past it, or loved me all the same for my naivety.

Our life together wasn't an extravagant one. Neither of our paychecks afforded us much in the way of luxuries. But we had long ago learned to appreciate the simpler things. Soup and bread is just as fine as an expensive steak when it is made by a loving wife.

But it wasn't to last. On an especially muggy night I awoke to find a sight that even now baffles me. Standing over the bed was a
perfect copy of my wife, save for her glowing red eyes and the bizarre blue shimmer around her body.

My body failed me. I was transfixed by this strange doppelganger. I could only watch as she leaned down and seemed to worry or nuzzle at my wife's neck. I scream lept into my throat and died there.

When she was finished she pulled away from my wife and seemed to stand perfectly still for an uncertain amount of time, as if she were basking in the act. To my horror she then seemed to remember my presence. She turned to me and gave me a look that sent a shiver down my spine and stole away my conscious thought.

I woke in the morning with a start. When I saw that Anna was okay I was besides myself with relief, but quickly chastised myself for being so foolish as to worry myself over what had obviously been a nightmare. Even so, I did not fail to notice how she scratched under her choker.

To my dismay a change came over my Anna in the weeks to follow. Mysterious midnight errands, staying out with her friends later and later. Waking up at night to find her gone had become a not uncommon occurrence. Our relationship seemed to deteriorate into an exchange of trivialities in the morning and a hasty excuse on Anna's part for her disappearance. I could be forgiven for thinking that she had begun to cheat on me with another man, and to this end I resolved to follow her one night.

On the day in question went to bed at my normal time. I laid down beside my wife and made every appearance of falling into genuine sleep. My plan had been to deceive my wife into thinking that I was asleep so that I could follow her out on one of her midnight excursions. At the time I believed that I had fooled her. But I now have my doubts on that matter.

With eyes shut I waited in bed until I felt the weight of the mattress shift. Anna was awake, and from the sounds of rustling fabric I deduced that she was hurriedly getting dressed. It wasn't long before I heard her open the bedroom door, descend the stairs, and exit our house with a practiced caution.

Pulling up the collar of my coat for extra protection from the weather I stepped out into the chill night air. Mere paces ahead of me was my sweet Anna. She was a singular figure among the questionable denizens who dwelled the streets of Paris at night. As we delved into the depths of the city Anna seemed to glide among the gamblers, the drinkers, the prostitutes. She seemed at once familiar and yet wholly apart from their world. I had never seen this side of her before, and for some indescribable reason it chilled me to the bone.

This continued for uncounted hours until she chanced upon a younger man with sandy blonde hair. Sliding into a back alley I watched as the two of them conversed. With a sunken heart I watched as Anna, my sweet Anna, leaned in and kissed the young man. So it was true, I fumed to myself. She had been seeing someone else behind my back.

My anger gave way to panic as I realized that the two of them were heading right to my hiding spot. Thinking quickly I hid behind some refuse and hoped from an opening. Oh how I wish I had simply revealed myself at that time. Said my accusations, pointed my fingers, and been done with the whole thing then and there. Or perhaps that would have simply hastened things.

Mortified, I watched from the shadows as Anna kissed the young man deeply. The two continued this way for several long minutes before Anna did something that shook my to my core. With an uncharacteristic roughness she forced the young man to reveal his neck. He started to cry out, but was silenced when she sunk her teeth into his exposed flesh. He struggled for a moment, but eventually seemed to give in. The color began to fad from his body, while Anna become more invigorated. It was as if she had stolen his very vitality and taken it for herself.

Satisfied, Anna let the young man's body fall to the pavement. She seemed to linger for a moment, as if making a weighty decision.
Finally she turned to leave, but not before confirming my most horrible suspicion. Her eyes bore through the darkness and met my gaze. Her grin told me everything. She had been aware of my presence since the very beginning. What happened next I cannot say, for once again my mind was taken from me.

I awoke to find myself in our bed. With a chill I realized that Anna was in bed next to me, playing with my hair and smiling that terrible smile I had seen in the alley. What had transpired that last night was no dream, yet I couldn't even muster up the will for a cry. A terrible fog had fallen over my mind, removing all agency from my body.

Anna attended to me with her usual kindness and thoughtfulness. She made me breakfast, got my clothes ready. We talked about current events as she got ready for work. But underneath that veneer of normality I understood the truth. I had been made a prisoner in my own body.

Even when she left for work this mental haze followed me. I could engage in only the most rote and banal behaviors. Even now, as I write this, it is only due to an incredible amount of mental effort on my part. For as I've said an account must be made.

The end draws close. I can feel that much. Our front door is opening. It must be Anna. I can hear her raised voice coming from downstairs. She tells me about her day at work. She tells me she hasn't had anything to eat all day.