Snippet #2592404

Decimus King sat in the quiet suburban home, upon a faded beige lounge, its colour that just right shade where you cant tell if it was meant to be that colour or was just dirty. Decimus guessed it was the latter judging by the rest of the house, its sparse furnishings giving rise to the guess that the man who owned the home was one not prone to ostentatious decoration. A plain sturdy coffee table, clearly well used, stained and loved sat in the middle of the room, a large, plasma screen television sat on a stand in the corner, opposite the small, two person Lounge Decimus sat upon.

That was sprayed by the arterial blood that had spurted from his companions neck.

The man next to Decimus was clearly dead. His throat ripped out in a savage display of animalistic brutality. What little blood had not been consumed by Decimus either decorated the beige couch or had drained to the lower portion of his body. It was a grisly sight to behold, but Decimus cared not.
"Hahhhh..." Decimus sighed, raising a remote and pressing a button, increasing the cool breeze emanating from the central cooling unit to a frigid gale, "Henry, you weren't a flamboyant man, but you definitely knew the value of practical appliances." He lay there in the cool, the air conditioning being the only reason he hadn't already left. The Louisiana heat was something one did not trifle with lightly if one could avoid it, and Decimus was quite happy here, safe in the knowledge that he was not going to be discovered any time soon. From what he had gleaned from Henrys blood memories, he lived alone, had few friends and his parents lived a state over. So for as long as he didn't have to leave the cool of the house, he wouldn't. He didn't like eating mortals, it was better than eating animal blood but just barely. It was bland and tasteless, the lack of magical talent leaving the blood without flavour and spice. like the difference between eating a seasoned roast and a burnt rodent toasted over a fire.
"Soon we can feast though." Said a voice in his head.
"Soon indeed," He said to the empty room, "But it will become harder to get away with now that the war is over."
"That has never bothered you before." Said another voice.
"You have never cared if you got caught." Said another.
"We are testament to that." chimed a third.
"Enough!" Decimus cried, his voice echoing in the empty home, "I will not be berated by the ghosts of my meals!" he was greeted by nothing but silence. He sighed and lifted his arm, turning off the air conditioning, "Now look what you've gone and done, ruined my perfectly good day."
He stood and made his way down the hall to the bathroom, using the sink and a towel to clean off his blood smeared face. He finished and inspected himself in the mirror, flashing himself that charming smile he knew people loved so much.
"I always look so much better after a meal." He said to himself, before drying off, and making his way out the front door, the door to the grisly murder scene closing with a soft click.