I have no heart He thought as he gazed into the night. It was cold but not in a bad way. The cold welcomed him, enveloped him, and ran through him. He had no problem in what he done. He felt nothing; not even a tinge of sorrow or guilt.

The wind blew the night’s chilly air about him, his hair dancing with the wind. It was an odd night to begin with. Not a star shone, but the moon shone brightly upon him and his pale skin. He fingered the rose in his hand, not even feeling the thorns prick deep into his skin. They drew no blood, he was already dead and they only drew the luminous black liquid, which disappeared before it touched the ground. He knew he would never surrender to her.

She thought he was different and showed him things he would remember for the rest of his everlasting life. For what seemed for a moment his heart didn’t feel so cold. He actually felt alive. His fingers ran across the rose’s petals. He knew it would not last. He was a monster and a creature of the night. She was a fool to think otherwise. He gazed upon now, looking down at her. Her emerald green eyes glanced up at him with shock and betrayal. He still felt nothing. He looked at her for what seemed like moments, blood still dripping form her frail form and her hair flowing like a river of brown curls.

He still felt nothing.

With that he dropped the rose on her corpse and turned away. He knew know that he would always be alone. His heart was stone and gone. He was the walking dead.