Author's Notes: Ah, yes, a very old one. I believe it is one of my first stories actually let out into the world. It's old, thus is sucks, and I was on a vampire trip so... yeah....

*ahem* This story belongs to me. Yes? Yes.

I Remember

Have you ever felt close to death? Those flashing wings and crimson eyes of vengeance, reaching from the depths of darkness to grasp your immortal soul? The hooded figure clad in black, bony hands gripping a blood-soaked scythe, astride a pale horse? Once, I came close to viewing both those Demons of darkness. And once I had a brother. I loved my brother; his sparkling eyes and boyish grin. Once upon a time I had a family that loved and cared for me. Both were drowned in dreams of bloody bones and open graves. Those musty, open coffins; trimmed with lace and silk. How I hate them! Those coffins began the life I wish I never had, the terror I wish I will never see again, and the death that haunts my dreams, waking and sleeping.

He came from those open graves and laced coffins. Him. The one of moonlight and dark secrets; forbidden love and dangerous lust. Yes, I was drawn to that dark figure in that open grave. I should have let the dead lie quiet but his call spanned the world and the pull much to great. I remember, as I gazed, how those eyes seemed to flicker, although the body was clearly dead. Perhaps the soul is clear and the heart still beating, I had mused. And The Voice echoed in my mind, soft as the winds caress,

"FREE ME." It was spoken slowly, thickly like a lazy-eyed cat would speak after its afternoon nap. My mind, however willful, was not a match for this new, deadly nighttime power. My body succumbed to the desire like a moth to bright light and I fell into the open grave and into the arms of my lover.

He felt no passion for me, yet had danced my mind like his own personal puppet. I had fallen into his emerald eyes as surely as I had fallen into a pit of stakes. The end result would be the same. I had hoped that one day he would care for me, love me in a way he had never loved before. Foolish hopes and dreams had been my escape. Perhaps I enjoyed being his blood mate, or maybe I loathed it, I cannot remember. However I felt, I still held those whispering promises close to my melted heart and dreamed. Until the Accident.

I remember that crispy day like it was yesterday; the leaves had long since fallen lifeless to the frosty ground. I remember rushing home, the cold, brittle leaves crunching like shattering bones beneath my runners. No thoughts of Him plagued my mind that morning. Although I felt buoyant, my deeper self had warned me. I did not listen. Breath misting on the air, I had ran to the steps. Silence. My mind had been screaming to depart immediately. I never listen. That old and creaking door had never seemed so...dead. I remember. Blood, red and sticky, pooling on the floor, running slowly, thickly down the walls. Those haunted eyes, terror and pain. Those dead, glazed eyes! Were necks supposed to turn that way? Did throats bleed so heavily? Dead on the floor, coated with crimson, entrails sliming the linoleum. A head beside a body, two eyes without a face.

He told me He did not know. He told me so many lies, this, however, had been the worst. Those open graves, this time with no coffins. My Mother. My Father. My Brother. All killed, murdered, in very painful ways. Maybe that is when I started to suspect, or maybe not, I do not remember.

He still claimed to love me like no man could. He never had been a man. Those emerald eyes, so dark and dead, held me in thrall as He told me deceitful lies. And those hands, so pale and strong, gripped me, as He wove His foul stories. And worse, I believed.

I cannot remember how I discovered His true self, or even how I confronted Him. All I remember is His face, once so beautiful and flawless, like moonlight, now so twisted and dark, like the grasping claws of unwanted memories.

I remember the Flight. How I had ran and ran, until my lungs were screaming for air and my heart beat faster than a frightened rabbits. He had backed off; blending into the shadows that had born Him when the sky lightened to dawn. I remember my overwhelming relief at finally glimpsing the sun. Those warm, glittering beams softly lighting up my face with their love. That bright and forgiving light drove back the shadows. Although I cannot bear that light anymore, I can still feel that one time of warmth, that one time I felt part of the living.

Memories are fading into whatever broken oblivion they go when they need not be used. The years seem to flash by, my life seems incomplete. Now I live by the laws of blood and shadow, never trusting another soul to bear the weight of what I have witnessed. Perhaps that is a good thing, perhaps not. But no matter how many years go by, there are some things that seem to stick in my memory. Like the Accident, or the Flight. I remember, now I forget.