Author: death-in-the-orchard PM
A vampire's mind...a living nightmare perhaps...early days of vampiric unlife. Hunting a monster leaves a trail of gore and loss.Rated: Fiction T - English - Horror/Spiritual - Words: 815 - Reviews: 4 - Favs: 4 - Published: 06-16-12 - Status: Complete - id: 3032766
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
"There it is!"
I am alone.
One of a kind.
"Kill it!" "Capture it!"
I am sought.
"It is mine!"
I am desired, fought for.
"Philosopher's stone!" "Immortal Being!"
I am given names but truly I am…
"Satanic demon of Hell!" "You stole my child!" "My husband!" "My wife!"
Running, the shadow slipped on the rocks, leaving a trail of blood on the jagged surfaces as it slid to the bottom of the ravine.
I never asked for this.
The shadow got up, panting when no breath was needed…only terror and confusion was present. The mob of people had been left behind, but those of skill still crept behind. Broken bones and gashes from the fall were gone, as was the blood. There was no sun, only the moon, but that did nothing to limit the movements of the shadow.
Why did God make me?
The shadow pushed forwards, flinching at the sound of howling dogs. A voice from the being drew out the true howls from the night and wolves poured into the ravine.
What am I?
The being stopped and waited for the men.
I was once human.
Torches came into view along with the wavering shadows of mortals. The dogs faced the wolves and the human faced the shadowed figure. The animals tore into one another, fur and blood coating the rocks as they died for their masters.
Now I am not.
The humans cried out in rage as they saw their beasts die, slaughtered, and were beginning to be consumed. Swords were drawn and a lone gun fired and miraculously shot the face of the shadowed one. Blood poured onto the ground and the wolves fled. With cries the men lunged forwards, a boy lingering behind, holding the light to see the battle…though it failed to touch the monster.
I am not human.
The monster's face reformed as darkness blackened the night where his body was. The shadow disappeared and reformed behind the charging men. The boy flinched and lent the torch before himself.
I am not human.
The boy stared into the face. A mouth opened to reveal fangs.
I am a monster.
The boy's torch was wrenched away and his voice was choked as the fangs ripped into his throat. He began to suffocate and drown on his own blood. The men yelled as the sight was erased with the death of the torch.
Now I eat humans.
The men screamed as each one fell, unseen by anything other than the moon…the monster…the Devil…and perhaps God. Blood and gore fell from the fangs as they shone in the moonlight, laughter on its lips. Applause to the end of the game resounded in Hell.
I…I never asked for this. Why did God make me? What am I? I am not human. I am not human…for I am a monster that now eats humans.
Laughter rang in the darkness as the vampire stood among the dead bodies whose empty eyes reflected white in the moonlight. In the darkness…the boy was dead so none could see…the torch was cool…blood dripped from the shadow's red eyes into his laughing mouth.
Can God hear me? Can he see me?
The shadow flitted and reformed by the dead boy. Lifting him up by his hair, the vampire's fangs glimmered inside a smile. A sharp movement left the sound of the dropping body.
Where is God?
The shadow stalked the night.
Did he hate me…in order to do this?
The shadow stopped and looked at the stones before it. They were arranged in a different manner…but they were the same as the ones in the ravine…a hand glanced down their surface…they were just as rough.
Did he ever love me?
The silhouette climbed the wall. No shadow was cast by the moon.
I loved him.
The sickening crunch was left in the wake of the vampire's smile.
I can say I do not now.
The shadow fell from the roof…from the night to the graveyard. The dirt and coffin lid fell. The sun rose slowly.
Is God in the moon? Then he may have seen me. Is God in the Sun? Then he can't see me…though he may now see what I leave for him.
The sun exposed the pale white of the innocent face of the boy, his head impaled on the cross on the roof of the Church.
It is not my fault…but perhaps it is…God would know but I cannot ask him.
A mother cried. Children joined, for the sake of their brother and father. Tears wetted the dusty holy ground.
No one will see me if you cannot.
Crows landed and consumed the eyes. The shadow in the coffin smiled.
Good night, Father.