Categories > Movies > Dracula 2000 > Incubus
Visiting the girls he loves
0 reviewsCorey Feldman visits 3 girls he loves - Heather Graham, Drew Barrymore and Meredith Salenger....
0Unrated
Heather Graham left her window open (as she always did, winter or summer, rain or snow or ominous mist), and so he went to her first. She lay sprawled out over the bed, her fair blond hair tousled and her brow furrowed in contemplation of something far too serious in the world of dreams. Her pictures from Corey Haim's 16th birthday party lay on a table a few feet away, far out of his reach. The Felddog paid them a glance and then turned away, back to her sleeping features.
His first touch was feather-light, on her forehead, merely brushing the hair away from her eyes. Then he grew bolder, running a finger down her cheek and neck and onto her collarbone, tracing the line of it across her breasts, under her skin, turned golden from long hours in the sun. Carefully, he climbed on top of her in a manner that he never would have done if he had still been a mortal.
Heather stirred a bit in her sleep, making an unconscious sound that could have been a groan or a sigh of pleasure, and Corey was encouraged. He moved to undo the buttons of her nightshirt, but heard the Count's voice in his mind, whispering, "Leave no visible evidence of your presence, my son," and he stopped and snapped, in a mental whisper,
"Shut up, Father!"
Then he contenting himself with slipping his fingers between the buttons, touching every inch of her that he could. Then, with a suddenly even more powerful surge of affection, he pressed his lips to hers in a chaste kiss, feeling his fangs lengthening beneath his lips.
In Heather's dreams, she and Corey are far away, in Hollywood, a place he still thinks of as home. It is a cold night in his imagination, and snow falls gently onto the windowsill. But they lie in front of a fire cheerily flickering in the hearth, and Heather is not cold in the least. She tells Corey stories in an exaggerated version, and he laughs, tilting his head back so that his raven hair gleams in the firelight...
Corey bit Heather, drinking deep of her blood as if by doing so he could absorb all times together they should have had, all the years of friendship and unacknowledged love. But he drank too long, and with too much desperation, and the Count's hand was soon upon his shoulder. "We must leave," he told him, and though his voice was quiet, it brought his back to his new reality.
He blew a kiss to Heather, sending with it a repetition of the words "Love you, Heather Graham," and left.
Drew's rooms were open perpetually to vampires. The bedroom was spartan in nature, with a bed with starched clean white sheets. A few books stood neatly stacked on the dresser. The only incongruity in the room was Drew's diary, which was normally put carefully away after she wrote in it, now on the dresser. Corey, not knowing what such a thing good possibly be, didn't even register its presence, except as a sign of it being a part of Drew.
Carefully, hesitantly, as if the slightest mistake could hurt her irreparably, Corey lay down next to Drew. It was difficult, because her bed was so narrow, and he ended up with his body practically pressed against hers, but he managed. Then, still carefully, he reached over and touched the side of her face. She turned towards him, almost imperceptibly, and he smiled. Losing a bit of the hesitation, he kissed her, deeper even then his most passionate kiss with Meredith, wrapping an arm around her as he did so. His fingers trailed up and down her spine, gently, fleetingly, not breaking from the kiss.
In Drew's dreams, she sits with Corey, in a parlor filled with the trappings of the life she could never have given him - a marble fireplace, beautiful, polished wood floors, chairs with cushions of the richest fabric. She looks up over the top of her book to see him reading as well - Jane Austen, that favorite author of his. He hums as he does so, and it is a light sound that lifts her heart. Eventually, it seems as though he feels her gaze upon him, for he looks up and smiles at her, and the smile is brighter than all the candles and gas lamps in the world, brighter even than the sun...
Corey bit her, but not so deep, not so long as he bit Heather. He longed to give something to her instead of taking away, for her skin was already so pale - no doubt from long hours of writing in her room, which must be a frightfully depressing place for a young woman to spend so much time - and he imagined giving her his blood, rich and red and sure to bring color to her cheeks, but he didn't know how to do something like that, and left her with a farewell kiss, pressing "I love you" into her skin.
Meredith Salenger's house was locked tight. There was no door left ajar, no window cracked open. None of her friends were much likely to get up and invite him in. He longed to draw her out to him, but he didn't know how to do that yet, and wouldn't understand how to when it came to the mind of his beloved Meredith.
Desperately, he rapped upon the window with his fingernails, crying out her name in a voice as cold now as his Maker's, a voice which was lost to the wind as soon as he spoke. Eventually, he growled, and his growls turned to wolflike howls, becoming even more like the wind into which they evaporated, but it did no good.
Meredith does not dream, though in the morning she shall think she has. Her eyes flutter open, and she sees, at her window, a phantom garbed in red and black, with raven hair and eyes she knows too well. She hears her name too, as if spoken by the wind, and when she looks again, it seems the phantom changes into the shape of...Corey Feldman. She steps back, horror and shock in her eyes.
"Do not be afraid of me, Meredith," says his voice. He holds out his hand towards the lock, and it unlocks itself. Then he steps inside...and over to her. He then places his mouth over hers in a sensual kiss, just like in the movie "Dream a Little Dream"...
*]
His first touch was feather-light, on her forehead, merely brushing the hair away from her eyes. Then he grew bolder, running a finger down her cheek and neck and onto her collarbone, tracing the line of it across her breasts, under her skin, turned golden from long hours in the sun. Carefully, he climbed on top of her in a manner that he never would have done if he had still been a mortal.
Heather stirred a bit in her sleep, making an unconscious sound that could have been a groan or a sigh of pleasure, and Corey was encouraged. He moved to undo the buttons of her nightshirt, but heard the Count's voice in his mind, whispering, "Leave no visible evidence of your presence, my son," and he stopped and snapped, in a mental whisper,
"Shut up, Father!"
Then he contenting himself with slipping his fingers between the buttons, touching every inch of her that he could. Then, with a suddenly even more powerful surge of affection, he pressed his lips to hers in a chaste kiss, feeling his fangs lengthening beneath his lips.
In Heather's dreams, she and Corey are far away, in Hollywood, a place he still thinks of as home. It is a cold night in his imagination, and snow falls gently onto the windowsill. But they lie in front of a fire cheerily flickering in the hearth, and Heather is not cold in the least. She tells Corey stories in an exaggerated version, and he laughs, tilting his head back so that his raven hair gleams in the firelight...
Corey bit Heather, drinking deep of her blood as if by doing so he could absorb all times together they should have had, all the years of friendship and unacknowledged love. But he drank too long, and with too much desperation, and the Count's hand was soon upon his shoulder. "We must leave," he told him, and though his voice was quiet, it brought his back to his new reality.
He blew a kiss to Heather, sending with it a repetition of the words "Love you, Heather Graham," and left.
Drew's rooms were open perpetually to vampires. The bedroom was spartan in nature, with a bed with starched clean white sheets. A few books stood neatly stacked on the dresser. The only incongruity in the room was Drew's diary, which was normally put carefully away after she wrote in it, now on the dresser. Corey, not knowing what such a thing good possibly be, didn't even register its presence, except as a sign of it being a part of Drew.
Carefully, hesitantly, as if the slightest mistake could hurt her irreparably, Corey lay down next to Drew. It was difficult, because her bed was so narrow, and he ended up with his body practically pressed against hers, but he managed. Then, still carefully, he reached over and touched the side of her face. She turned towards him, almost imperceptibly, and he smiled. Losing a bit of the hesitation, he kissed her, deeper even then his most passionate kiss with Meredith, wrapping an arm around her as he did so. His fingers trailed up and down her spine, gently, fleetingly, not breaking from the kiss.
In Drew's dreams, she sits with Corey, in a parlor filled with the trappings of the life she could never have given him - a marble fireplace, beautiful, polished wood floors, chairs with cushions of the richest fabric. She looks up over the top of her book to see him reading as well - Jane Austen, that favorite author of his. He hums as he does so, and it is a light sound that lifts her heart. Eventually, it seems as though he feels her gaze upon him, for he looks up and smiles at her, and the smile is brighter than all the candles and gas lamps in the world, brighter even than the sun...
Corey bit her, but not so deep, not so long as he bit Heather. He longed to give something to her instead of taking away, for her skin was already so pale - no doubt from long hours of writing in her room, which must be a frightfully depressing place for a young woman to spend so much time - and he imagined giving her his blood, rich and red and sure to bring color to her cheeks, but he didn't know how to do something like that, and left her with a farewell kiss, pressing "I love you" into her skin.
Meredith Salenger's house was locked tight. There was no door left ajar, no window cracked open. None of her friends were much likely to get up and invite him in. He longed to draw her out to him, but he didn't know how to do that yet, and wouldn't understand how to when it came to the mind of his beloved Meredith.
Desperately, he rapped upon the window with his fingernails, crying out her name in a voice as cold now as his Maker's, a voice which was lost to the wind as soon as he spoke. Eventually, he growled, and his growls turned to wolflike howls, becoming even more like the wind into which they evaporated, but it did no good.
Meredith does not dream, though in the morning she shall think she has. Her eyes flutter open, and she sees, at her window, a phantom garbed in red and black, with raven hair and eyes she knows too well. She hears her name too, as if spoken by the wind, and when she looks again, it seems the phantom changes into the shape of...Corey Feldman. She steps back, horror and shock in her eyes.
"Do not be afraid of me, Meredith," says his voice. He holds out his hand towards the lock, and it unlocks itself. Then he steps inside...and over to her. He then places his mouth over hers in a sensual kiss, just like in the movie "Dream a Little Dream"...
*]
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