Drac and Lizzie goes to the Prom

"SOOOOO! 'Young' Drac, we have both - again - graduated high school in Transylvania, Romania in 1666. Oops! I mean 2066. Well, actually, the year doesn't really matter much. Frankly, any old year will suffice, since we have been alive for many centuries and graduated many, many high schools together".

"It had been a bloody wonderful four years here....Or In whichever year you prefer to pick".

"Ah, yes - but we two have certainly had a loving, but tumultuous friendship which had blossomed into young love. Or rather young-ish - very old love....all centuries considered".

"Many murderous years later, and we still have not lost our flare for the dramatic. For if anyone were ever privy to our high school year books, they would just die from the shock of the bloody beautiful scenes".

"The night begins with a moon so swollen it looks ready to spill secrets. Such a pity they won't know ours until its too late. Ha ha ha ha"!

"They only know that Drac and Lizzie are stepping out of the Borden‑Dracul household - an architectural oddity that fused Victorian gables with sleek 2060s solar‑goth panel".

"Yes, lets walk arm in arm. Now, dressed for prom, we certainly look like a prophecy walking".

"You know, although graduation was this afternoon, the tassels still smell faintly of ozone from the holographic commencement fireworks".

"Lizzie, your dress shimmers like spilled ink. It's shifting colors depending on the angle - sometimes midnight blue, sometimes the deep red of a whispered warning. Sometimes Black. Your eyes glow faintly, the way they always did when you are excited or hungry or both".

"Ah Drac, I am so glad that you inherited only half the curse and all the charm, for you can walk in daylight, although mirrors still refuses to acknowledge you. Your suit is a manly, suave, tailored black number with a collar that hints at old‑world nobility and a lapel pin shaped like my not so tiny axe...so positively adorable".

"Why, thank you Liz dear. Let's take the hover‑carriage - such a handsome antique model which I had restored, complete with velvet seats and a propulsion system that purrs like a contented beast".

"Yes, Drac dear. For such a beast am I tonight. Let's glide toward the school gymnasium, while I gently rest my head on your shoulder".

"Is your axe safely tethered to the inside of your bodice...careful - we don't want it seen".

“You know,” she murmured, “I never expected to attend my own prom. Too many… complications.”

"I know, I'm so sorry. Well, tonight you get the full experience. Bad music. Overpriced snacks. Awkward dancing. The works.”

"Ha ha ha. My fangs will peek out in a grin. Delicious.”

“2066: A Night to Remember”, feels almost laughably quaint. Holographic stars drifting lazily across the ceiling. The punch bowl glowing neon green, which was either intentional or a malfunction. And a DJ in a chrome mask spinning remixes of songs that were already retro".

"Let's prepare for the Drac and Lizzie moment - where as we walk in, the room shifts. Conversations pause. Heads turn...And Even the holograms seem to flicker in our direction".

“We’ll be causing a scene.”

“You always do. Dance with me anyway.”

"Let's move to the center of the floor. The music has softened into something slow and haunting, as if the DJ sensed the shift in atmosphere. We'll dance close, and for a moment, the centuries between us will collapse into something simple: two souls orbiting each other".

“Don't flinch, it's just my voice brushing your ear. You know, I used to think eternity would be lonely.”

“And now?”

“Now it feels… shared.”

"I'm kissing your forehead, careful with those hairpins - they are like silver stakes bent into elegant spirals".

“Shared is Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

"Of course, no prom is complete without a little chaos".

"Why do you say that"?

"Because we are only Halfway through the night, the punch bowl just erupted in a plume of green smoke. Someone must have spiked it with a nano‑prank virus that made everyone’s hair levitate".

"Lizzie, your hair is floating like a dark halo".

"Drac, yours rose in a dramatic swoop that makes you look like a startled bat".

"I need to stop laughing, my side hurts".

"Quiet, the principal is announcing the Prom Royalty. The holographic crown is flickering above your head Drac".

"It's above yours now Lizzie’s, they must be confused by the supernatural signatures, they're hovering uncertainly between us before splitting into two identical crowns".

"Crap, the crowd is cheering us. Royalty again. How tedious.”

“Just smile and wave.”

"OK, I'm waving...And for once, I don't mind the attention. Look at the innocent, unsuspecting sea of faces - friends, classmates, mortals who have no idea how old we truly are".

"I feel something warm blooming in my chest".

"Me too".

"Hunger. Nostalgia".

"Both. Get the axe".

"Our fangs are showing.

"That's ok. It's Time".

When the night ended, they stepped back into the cool air. The moon had climbed higher, pale and watchful.

Drac offered his arm again. “Ready to go home?”

Lizzie shook her head. “Not yet. Let’s fly.”

He grinned, revealing his own bloody, lethal, sharp fangs. “Race you.”

They leapt into the night, silhouettes against the moon, two dark shapes rising together - ancient - new, both bound by something deeper than blood.

A prom night to remember, indeed.