Author’s Note: Another One-Shot written for my English class :D Its pretty short, but I hope you guys like it. This is a descriptive piece, which focuses on imagery, description (hence the name lol), etc. I’d appreciate any reviews, comments and constructive criticism.

Enjoy! :D

-l-

Cold

By Nancy A.

-l-

Like the vestige of my soul, the streets are cold this night. Cold as they always are. The darkness is overwhelming, save for the fog drifting heavily, slightly shielding my vision; an ashen curtain over the mortal world.

In the shadowed darkness I stand, watching, listening. To their footsteps, clumsy and slow; to their voices, blissful and oblivious… to all the beautiful echoes of mortality. I scan the horde of mortals, their silhouettes slowly consumed by the white sea of haze as they saunter away. The frosty air is pungent with the scent of humanity and blood. Unconsciously, my tongue flickers across pointed fangs, there is an untainted, almost disturbingly pure taste in my mouth – I had not feasted in days.

Yet still I wait for her.

The night passes; a few rats scurry about, scampering like mad across the stoned pavement - the only sign of life on this forsaken road. There is neither moon nor star to adorn the celestial vault above. No light, nor illumination. Even the shadows themselves are deep in the sleep of death. Thus there is simply darkness; a sharp blackness that surrounds and ensnares the soul, suffocating it in an asylum of nightmare. I feel the soft whisper of the winds, it’s icy breeze caressing the contours of my form. Dead and crinkled leaves waltz about, allured by the elusive murmurs of the wind that slowly fades into the unruffled ambience.

And still I wait for her.

I gaze down at the gray puddle beneath my worn boots – a filthy remnant of the previous downpour that night. My reflection is distorted, a shattered replica, broken by the slight ripples of the puddle. Still, the pallor of my countenance stands out fiercely against the darkness, its deathly pale hue frigid in this black night. I look into my own eyes; the blue that once flashed within them had faded to a stony gray, now sharp and bitter from centuries of sorrows passed. They are depthless, inhabited with strange demons and ghosts even I cannot identify.

And I can see, nothing had changed.

But then she comes. The same time, the same place, as every yesterday and the day before. Sitting idly in her lavish carriage, her flushed mortal face warmly illuminated by the soft lamplight inside the coach. Beautiful. Golden curls frame a rosy cherub face. Eyes, pure and angelic, peer out through the darkness. Her soft plump lips shape a knowing smile. And for one brief moment, all I see is her. Reality melts away; the blackness and coldness melts away. A precious warmth lifts me, the ice of ages covering my heart thaws… for a fleeting instant I feel mortal.

Crack! The silence is shattered. The horses nicker briskly, shaking their heads up and down as the carriage driver, a tall and dark man, snaps his whip once more, sending it through the air like a black snake to break the peace of night. The horses pick up their pace, trotting in a faster, rhythmical beat. I see her drift away in the rocking coach, slowly devoured by the drifting fog. Disappearing. Instantly I feel the pains of reality once more, and the cold… returns.

I gaze down at the puddle again – the same reflection, the same face… the same coldness etched upon me centuries ago. Nothing had changed. Nothing would change. For it is known, mortals will one day feel the sweet embrace of death. While I will exist, not in living, but in not death. Simply existing in a life of eternal death.

So now I do all that I can do. I wait for her. I wait as I do every night. I wait in this eternity cursed upon me, in the perpetual darkness that had become life, in the shadows of the night. Forever… in cold.

-l-

Please review!