Attai, short for Attaine picked up her violin and plucked the strings to make sure it was in tune. She then arced her bow and played. She closed her eyes while playing, letting her body move with the notes. Her right arm moved powerfully up and down, striking the strings and her right hand beat down on the fingerboard with passion.
Meanwhile outside, a flitting shadow was seen by the curtains and Attai wasn't able to see it with her eyes closed. She continued playing, reaching the deeper notes. The shadow loomed behind Attai and she suddenly felt clammy hands on her shoulders. She gave a scream and dropped her violin, it hit the floor at an angle and then fell over, the bow clattered a few feet away. She turned around.
She saw a pale faced man with red lips and strange looking eyes. He gripped her tightly and his hands were deathly cold. She tried to push him off her, but he held on tighter and creeped his hands to her neck. He brought her close and she felt sharp pain in her neck and warmth. She was let go and the man ran away, he jumped through the open window and she fell to her knees. Putting a hand to her neck, she found marks of blood and her vision turned hazy. She felt her teeth getting pointier at some parts and she felt cold. So cold, like she was dead. Attai curled herself up and shook violently. "What's happening to me?" she asked in a fearful voice. She reached out to her only comfort, her violin and bow, then held them against her chest. She was getting colder still and seized.
The next morning, she was found to be dead and was buried in a cemetary, far from where she lived. That night, the cemetary was quiet and the streetlights clicked on as it got darker.
It was so dark. So dark, and small. She could feel the polished wood, so dark. Small, enclosed. Clausterphobic. Her eyes darted around wildly and she pounded on the inside cover of the coffin. "Get me out!" she screamed. "Out!" she scratched the covering and punched a hole through. Her own strength surprised her and she dug wildly through the dirt ontop to fresh air. Once above, she hauled herself out and looked at her tombstone.
We loved her
She stared at the epitah. She wasn't dead. She couldn't be!