Every night was the same for him. Torture. Pain. Blood. Pain. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood.
So much blood. To much to survive from.
But then again, he isn't really alive is he?
Of course he blames the moon, but it's not the moon, the moon cannot be held responsible for what he has to endure.
It was all her fault. That's what they wanted him to think. But he would never blame her. He loved her.
His story began at the beginning, like the beginning beginning, the real beginning from which everything else began.
So it began at the beginning and ended with the Devil, because they all seemed to forget that Hell does exist, and he was a traitor.
And for his little "crime" this is the card he was dealt.
His demons unleashed.
He stalks throughout the night an image of blue skin and red red blood. He creeps into homes and sits atop of the beds of the sleeping and watches. Watches. Watches for the slightest movement. And then...
But of course he cannot help himself he's not in his right mind.
Their young blood keeps him sane and their flesh keeps him strong. Every night it becomes easier and easier. He recoils at the thought of when it only started...
That first night. Unimaginable.
The pain. Unbearable.
The blood. Unmeasurable.
The crime. Love.
Because angels weren't allowed to love.
For only fools rush in where angels fear to tread
He found out the hard way that living on a prayer is a dangerous life, because even angels can fall, if their wings have been clipped. And fall he did.
No, don't think this love story is a Romeo and Juliet. Its much more tragic. Yes she did die in foul play. But he didn't. And he never would. No matter how hard he angel that fell for the human... No one could have guessed how it would end.
She was a beauty, too beautiful for her own good. With her golden hair and her icy blue eyes and pink lips, people often thought she was the angel.
She would pray, and he would listen. Like all people she always wished for more because a little was never enough. And like all angels he answered her prayers.
She wished for love, he gave her more.
Oh how they spent their days! To be young and in love, what everyone yearned for.
And her prayer never wavered. It gave him strength, he fed off of its power. The power of love.
Her blood ran cold, her eyes went dead, her lips turned white and her hair faded to grey.
Her life was drained out of her by the people he called kin.
And then she was praying for death.
And angels always answer prayers.
As she died he died with her. On the inside.
And then came his end. But it wasn't really the end. It was the beginning. Of some kind of hell.
December 31 1899
Turn of the century. A new beginning. For everyone.
For him it began like every night for the past two hundred years.
The wings burst through the flesh of his back.
His screams muffled by the wooden floor.
As he lay face down in a growing pool of his own blood.
He could feel his spine twisting and morphing underneath his skin.
The sound of it snapping in several places echoed through the empty room.
Then suddenly a tail broke through the dermis on his lower back.
He coiled it, and curled it.
The night was young as he sprang to his feet and crept out into the chill air.
Finding her was the easy part, but the girl just wouldn't DIE.
He was watching her from afar in the darkened shadows of the night. He attacked with the fresh fury scorched onto his soul, he couldn't think, just kill.
But she was young, but sixteen, and survived longer then some fully grown men.
But eventually the fight was won and as she lay on the snow, her red red blood pouring out onto the pure white, he couldn't help but think, just for a moment, of who she reminded him of.
He lost it.
And that's where they were both found, laying motionless on the icy ground.
Mingling together in the white white snow.
And for the last time, the moon looked on, wondering where it all went wrong..