The night was young and the air was chill. I beat my angry wings ten times every second as I descended over the clump of houses that appeared in my peripheral vision. Mating season was always a particularly annoying time for our race but the threat of rain from the blue highlands down south was an extra irritation. I had been flying for the last hundred thousand wing beats on my last sugar supply and it didn’t look like there were any nectared flowers nearby.
My foul mood was not lifted by the rude break in the natural landscape that signaled my spawn food source. What a bother that my spawn and I did not share the same nourishment. Now I would have to fly with the strain of a heavy payload of human blood while looking for my own sustenance, which seemed nowhere within my immediate purview. Well, I would not be the one to let down our species. Were we not till date the greatest tormentors of the human race?
The closer I came to the buildings, the more distasteful its clinical surroundings became. No standing pools of water to lay my spawn. No shady trees with which to copulate with bouncing orgy clumps of our male studs after discharging the present fertilized, nourished eggload. Everything was so white and pristine.
The sudden blast of carbon dioxide from the buildings hit me. With it came a renewed vengeance. I would take out my existential frustrations on these unsuspecting members of the helpless human race. But not now, with so much visibility and risk of counterattack. No, I would hang under the window ledge till nightfall before seeking out my hapless blood victims.
Eventually, the scene was set. The sun had completely retired for the day, making way for the shy moon, who seemed to be taking extra care with her makeup and dress selection this ponderous night. I pressed advantage and entered the place.All at once, there were multiple blood sources assaulting my three senses. But I, the queen dragon of the tropical night, would not be swayed by just any pedestrian fare. I would seek out the best combination of sensory….
CLAP!!!! Suddenly the attack rush of air pushed me to the side as I became the focus of the entire room. I hadn’t reckoned with the artificial lights available to my prey well beyond sunlight hours. Well, if I forgot that aspect of my special survival training, I would not forget the rest. I immediately let my wings stop beating and fell under gravity for a distance of 500 wing paces. I resumed cruising at my new altitude and sought out a perch for myself on the side of a vertical pillar out of the sight line of any other moving thing in the room. Well, I discounted the regular movements of the huge circular draft creator on my side of the pole. All movements with a readily calculated frequency would be discounted as a backdrop for my nefarious activities. My mind was made up. I would make my move when the lights were returned to the natural level of the cold, wicked night.
My time came soon enough. All but two of my most nutritious prey left as the room lights were dimmed for the night. The greater beast had rolling lands for bloody exploration. From my analysis of her bodily chemical scent, her blood stream seemed deep, rich and perfect, with extra nutrition obviously meant for a small human being in her belly. But the smaller beast was also favorable. I believed her skin was more elastic, her blood more spicy, and her skin cholesterol level high enough to indicate the successful flush from her blood stream of offending toxins and oxidants.
The tone was soft and dismissive. “Good night Yinka,” said the great beast to the spicy one. I seized my cue like a skilled lead actress and sailed onto the stage which was Yinka’s soft, spicy leg. I would poke about and probe up behind her leg until I found blood vessels sufficiently close to the surface of her supple skin. Her carbon dioxide levels had already sunk to the lown levels indicative of sleep which meant I would not be disturbed during my feeding session. She must have been too exhausted to know what would hit her.
I found the right spot just behind her knee. I teased a little, before I settled and eased my throbbing proboscis into one of her pores, slowly sliding into the blood vessel. I injected my saliva into her blood stream to prevent it from clotting while I sucked on her and during the time I would store her nutritious fluids for my spawn. I bestowed my plasmodium on her as payment for our clandestine survival romance, a cruel thank you, which would be evidenced only by the telltale swollen, itchy spot she would discover in the morning where I had bitten her.
My work was done. I carefully pulled out my probe from her skin, feeling lucky she didn’t suddenly roll over to squash me under her, or lash out involuntarily and reduce me to a bloody splat, or have her skin contract from a chilly draft of air and hold my proboscis in her. I excreted my excess watery fluids on her through my posterior. It gave me such relief and satisfaction to finally be done with this fair, helpless lady. I powered up my wings and made for the nearest window with the practised hurry of royalty.
I was the Dragon Queen of the Tropical Night.