1 Al' Bucher House of Decor

Smooth ivory hands graced the rainbow-colored ribbons that were repeatedly touched. Her slender fingers passively brushed against the countless number of laced ribbons that dangled from the ceiling walls of the shop. Fabrics of all kinds were sold there and dyes that enriched the material to perfection. A small smile tugged at the corner of her rose kissed lips. "I want this…" Her words were faintly said. This only sounded like a whisper of a songbird to the shopkeeper.

His eyes couldn't help but look upon the beautiful young woman. The color of her hair was that of pale wheat and sunflowers. Her skin was fair, smooth and plump of that of an infant. Surely she was nothing less than a noblewoman. She wore a flowing victorian styled vintage dress that has hue of ginger draped to her tiny ankles. It did not give way to her slender figure. She also wore it in matching the color in a form of a corset laced with pink ribbons, binding her slender petite frame. Underneath was a long-sleeved buttoned ruffled blouse that buttoned around her neck.

Even though she was well covered, his eyes traced down her slightly exposed neck. Heat flared towards him from such a little spot of skin. It also looked very smooth to the touch…better yet, it was flawless. How luscious she was. Her cheeks seemed to fluster a bit under the lamps of the store.

Footsteps were heard at a steady pace hitting the wooden floor with his hard shoes. She merely felt a chilling presence drawing to her neck. She took no precaution towards the man. "What a fine choice milady," a voice hummed from behind her. As if the intention was that to startle.

She merely turned around to greet the intruding shopkeeper.

"I do so agree. What fine material this is." Her words sang sweet nectar into his ears.

"Surely a noblewoman such as yourself can have a servant do a petty task like this." Her facial expression was unchanging as a tiny giggled escaped from her lips. She slightly placed her gloved hand over her mouth as if to be bashful for her actions. "I can't leave all the fun to my servants." His glimpse glistened under her presence.

This woman, he wanted her. "As so it seems. My imported goods are grateful then, to be admired upon by someone such as you."

"You flatter me, dear sir. You must be kind to all the others."

"Someone as fair as you, it's unholy not to be kind. If others were as fair then, I would rather be the kind fool if that pleases you." He chuckled along with the smaller woman. "You amuse me, sir, please tell me your name." She appeased, slightly lifting her small chin as one curl of wheat-colored hair traced down her small face. "I am merely a shopkeeper," he grinned. "What good is my name? Instead please remember the Al' butcher's house of Décor'."

Her pale lashes lowered a bit, drawing his full attention to her. A hint of honey and sunflowers was faint in the air. "I see," she mused. "I shall keep that in mind, Al' Bucher's shopkeeper." Greatly pleased by her words, he chuckled underneath his breath. "My dear you are a rare treat. Would you like to see a rare collection of fabric, if that pleases you?"

"That'll be very nice," she said while offering her small hand. He hungrily kissed it, taking little consideration of her fragile fingers. His light kiss seemed to deepen upon her gloved hand before his eyes greeted with hers once again. "Please my dear," he whispered sincerely. "I'll be with you in the next room in a bit. The front of the shop requires much…tidying." She calmly nodded in return. He slowly guided her into the closed-off room. The sealed door was made of great red oak, blotted with an iron black lock from the outside. "It's my…rare collection. That I show to approved clients." He assured her.

Hues of reds, blues, and so forth greeted her warmly. Rare exotic prints of many kinds embraced the rolls which held them. The soft steps of heels were heard against the white carpet that embedded the room. Fine material flowed through her hand onto the next, the feel of countless fabrics made her yearn for more. "Mr. Shopkeeper?" she asked in a lowered tone. She came to a stop at a rather rare fabric that she has never seen before. Her pale slate blue eyes gazed at the piece once more before she went on again. "Would you mind telling me where you have obtained this piece?" The dead silence of the room answered her in return.

The creep of the heavy door swept in the room. She did not look, her posture went unchanging. The silence was her company as faint sounds were heard outside the door. Her thoughts never strayed. The changing of locks was heard. Her hand slowly traced the piece up and down adoring the material.

A pair of feet running back and forth filled her ears. Her waited words fell at the tip of her tongue. Afterward fastens of heavy blunt objects and closing of doors embraced her. Something about this piece left her to ponder on its origins. "Such fine material, but rather stiff..." she faded off.

The sound of footsteps came to a sudden halt, which leads her to turn around. The shopkeeper only managed to softly close the door behind him. He merely greeted her with a plastered smile. Her eyes went cloudy as her hand laced the fabric downwards. "Has the shop always closed this early?" her words fell flat to deaf ears.

The still air within the room only seemed to thicken with each step he took towards her. Her body stood still without a bit of motion. The tension only gave notice to the scent of dirt and rust, which washed over the girl, downing her senses from clean air. "I see once again you have chosen another rare piece. What good eyes you have." He leered once again, reaching out past the woman before him. Her hair brushed against his impending hand. Yet she stood still.

He took hold of the piece she held, slowly tracing a small patch of the fabric with his thumb. Even though the material still draped from its roll, there was so little of it. "This is one of my personal projects— More like the first and last." He halted his words a bit, then continued. "The material and dye are like no other, you see…something that I merely put together, piece by piece. It's been so hard to find Grade A quality for additional—"Hesitation once again gained comfort in his voice, hastening the eagerness in his words. "—additional materials. This has been incomplete for some time." His fingers found its way in her honey and sunflower curls.

"Rare indeed," she coxed. "It has the smell of dirt and rust."

The strands of her curled hair flowed through his hand like ripples of silk. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, why something so tempting entered his small empty shop. How grateful he was. "The smell you say?" He lingered more of the thought of her words. "That is the dye, my dear. It is the risk I take to keep its rich color. Alluring isn't it?" He whispered, with his eyes never straying from her warm skin. "It's the truest of all reds. It's the true color of its form, never a variation." His free hand caressed her round smooth rosy cheek. His cool breath stained itself along her neck. The smell of honey and sunflowers filled his lungs, enthralling him deeper into the small woman.

A great need reigned over him almost pushing him to his limits. The touch of her skin, to the smell of her hair, this girl enticed him. "You're truly are beautiful," he breathed into her neck, taking the warmth that radiated from her skin. "With you, I am sure that this piece will be completed. Your hair shall be woven into the fine thread to extend the fabric. The life that runs through you shall grace the red dye…over and over again." He merely muttered into her ear. Fingers began to fiddle down the pink ribbons that held her cream-colored corset.

She slowly exhaled, remaining ever still. A smile played upon his thin hard lips, which was soon followed by a low chuckle. "Do I frighten you, my dear?" He teased one of the ribbons into a near tug. Her stillness beckoned his actions to become more forceful, almost yanking the fragile ribbon to loosen. "You must know your manners dear shopkeeper." She said bluntly. In response, his laughter bolted out. "My manners!? Dear me! Where are my manners?" He mocked. "You are indeed a rare treat!"

Her blissful shallow eyes narrowed towards the man. She sighed lightly looking past his shoulder in the shadows of the room. He grew serious after his sudden fleet of laughter. "And if I weren't to listen to your demand?"He asked in a low voice, succeeding to pull the ribbon free from its confines.

"What will you do?"

A grin spread across his face, burning in place. His eyes were only engrossed on hers, tempting him so. How could he not take kindly to her invitation? She was his wrapped little doll to do as he pleases.

A soft thud pierced the silence between them. It came from below, as a sudden weight was released from his hand. His mind remained occupied with her, his lovely pretty doll. One after one, more soft thuds were heard from below. Why would something so small to hear interrupt him so? It spoiled his mood to turn his full attention to the source of the sound. His mind fell blank to the stinging sensations erected through his now stump of an arm.

A sudden deep red downpour greeted the carpet from below. It mended well with the flooring as piece and bits of dismembered fingers and flesh were showered in his fluids. Creating crimsoned pools of his blood. A jolt of agony emitted from his body, giving him little to breathe and little to process a thought. Shock and pain thundered through him rocking backward, still holding onto his incomplete limb.

The shopkeeper backed away from the expressionless girl. His back suddenly hit a sturdy wall that wasn't there before. Frantic eyes darted at his shaved limb as cold thin sheets of metallic met his exposed neck at both sides. The shear blades threaten his head to arch upwards despite the outlandish pain. His mind went into chaos as his gaze averted to his fallen pieces. The small woman stared at the shopkeeper with dull eyes, stepping over the spilled blood and pieces of flesh that mingled with the floor. "Boris," her voice rang of wind chimes. "I thank you for correcting his rudeness." Her soft smile greeted the towering dark coffee toned figure. "It is a pleasure my mistress." the figure said out in ease and comfort while he still held the shopkeeper pinned against him. Her stare was like draggers towards the flustered shopkeeper.

Small soften steps neared closer to the frantic man, who was barely keeping his toes on the ground. "W-what…What is this!?" he spat out in fits of crazed laughter. Her stare was unmoving. His abrupt outburst was greeted by her smile. It passively played about her face, bringing the shopkeeper to sudden short breaths and a still heart. She tilted her pretty head sideways to peer closer to the face of Al' Bucher's shopkeeper. "I am glad," she started. "That your hysterics has come to a stop."

"You BI—" Before the man could even finish his sentence, a cold steel blade was thrust from the back of his neck into his throat exiting above his Adam's apple. The gurgling of bodily fluids in his throat erupted from his mouth, spilling onto the floor dying the floor once again in deep red. "I refuse to be interrupted again!" She glared towards the rude man. His mind was filled with the distorted pain that burned into his throat. Its metallic taste rang a deeper cold despite his body temperature. His words were broken into choked coughs. The woman alerted him, "Something as little as this cannot kill the likes of you." The coughs that emitted from his throat seemed to protest her statement.

His yelps of gurgled blood were faintly heard which echoed its way throughout the room. She paid no mind. "This is indeed great quality, but yet I find it quite disgusting." Angry gurgles escaped from the shopkeeper, again she paid no mind. "Once it's completed…who will you sell it to?" Regardless of the pain that engulfed him, her question left him startled. "W-who are…you?" he finally was able to strain out.

Her soften expression grew serious to his words. "What will my name do for you?" she taunted him. "A name will do you no good. I am merely unknown to your kind, but yet the same. For conversation sake, in your words…I'm simply a noblewoman." His voice did not come to him, however, the hacking of his breathing came in return. The swift release of the blade was wrenched from his pierced throat, joining the other blade in unison. "I shall ask you again. Who will you sell this to?" A measly hiss erupted pass his lips.

His pale appearance became apparent under the lack of blood hammering his thirst. A flash of silver light that burned like no other stroked down his left shoulder. The weight of his other arm loss became lifting.

Little drops of blood glazed his fallen left limb. A muffled cry buried itself from escaping. She gave no attention to the new arm that now joined the pieces of blood and another limb on the floor. "So little blood that remains left in your body" she whispered sweetly. He bit into his lips to distract him.

"Are you…are you perhaps thirsty?" she mused. His glare immediately burned into the floor wishing not to give way to her attics. Her small gloved hand unfastened the button to her collar, exposing her earnest neck. She looked sideways holding onto her collar in welcome. The heat of her exposed skin encouraged the dryness that burned through his throat. His bared fangs bit into the dead harden skin of his mouth.

The shopkeeper was holding onto what little restraint he had. She watched the shopkeeper intently at his skirmish figure. "Will you tell me?" The hacking of his gasps spelled bound his body. She moved closer without hesitation. "Who will you give this to?" She whispered. The scent of her perfumed flesh swirled around him, like smoke from cooked meat.

No longer could he speak. Driven by such thirst, his tongue lashed out to her. Instinct took over his decaying form. It only resulted in the exertion of toxic fumes spraying from its breath. His body jerked forward despite the blade carving away at his neck. "Tell me!" She ordered. Her voice echoed ghostly to his ears, simply sounding of a hundred songbirds forcing the armless vampire in the state of complete obedience. The girl's voice held unknown power that controlled his very being.

He grasped once again, coughing out dust and ash from his lungs. The look in his eyes did not show anger but dazed loyalty. "I-It is! It is that of the Al' Bucher's House! Hail noble lady! M-m-my m-master is Sir Hector Al' Bucher!" He lashed out in complete obedience. More coughs escaped from his shaken form. Slowly, he began to regain his composure. What has he done? She stared blankly at the crazed vampire, tempting him once more. "You cough out dust and ash my dear shopkeeper. Such a pity, your thirst is burning you alive." She tenderly whispered.

"Boris?"

"Yes, my mistress?"

"…Let everything burn with him as well."

The towering figure bowed its dark head to his master, with a flicker of his thin blades. A dismantled dry corpse fell before her heels, with the company of its head. She walked past the beheading of the shopkeeper onto the other end of the room. "Who are you!?" a strangled yell escaped from the head. "Once again I'm merely a noblewoman." She soothed. The hackle of ash flew from its mouth. "How can you know of his place of business? Who sent you here to ask of my master!?" She ignored his cries. "Y-your offense...shall be death!" The head gasped for air as if needing to breathe. "I will never forget…it was the—indeed a noblewoman!" Boris set ablaze the small boutique. Flames licked throughout the small setting, it was contagious among the imported goods. Her departure from the store sent a new wave of determination through her. Her servant opened up the back seat of a black sleek vintage car.

Flames blazed within the cobbled stoned community, its brilliant light reflected off the mirrored exterior of the vehicle. The low roar of the engine pricked her sensitive ears as she turned her attention back to her servant. "Boris, take me home." A shuffle in the front driver's seat was heard. "I understand. Will you be getting something to eat mistress?" Her gaze never drifted from the flames that danced outside. The memory of stolen blood plagued her thoughts. How many people has he killed just to satisfy his new life ruled by his thirst, and other hobbies he learned on the way? No longer did they carry a sense of pride. They were nothing, but conceited creatures that wanted to play god. "No, I will eat in the morning." She voiced. The vehicle took off leaving the bonfire behind in the dead of night. No longer will blood be split for…greed. Al' Bucher's House of Décor will stand no more.