++ I Am A Killer ++


Oh how wonderful it was when I could breathe. To be able to feel the wind on my living cherry skin and feel things beneath warm palms. I don’t feel anything now, nothing but the cold dark loneliness of an eternity spent alone. The ache of severance is sometimes too much to bear. I just wish to be alone no longer in this world or endless pain.

I was married once. To a great man, an Egyptian no less, but as it happens, he has long been lifeless and I amongst the living dead as I sit in the fluorescently lit café. The buzz of human voices mingling with the sharper more defined telepathic voices. A cup of rich coffee sits in front of me as I gaze into its mocha nadir pondering my existence.

6000 years is a time-consuming era to be sentiently aware of all around me. Having nothing to do except sit and infer about how long such a time seems becomes mundane, and yet the time stretching in front of me seems so much longer and even more tedious. How long does time go on? One can never be sure. Yet one must wonder such things given such a being could be here for the very lengths of forever. But then how long is forever really?

Then one must work their preternatural mind into a completely hopeless tangle contemplating the universe, the world and time itself. Religion becomes almost a story read in a book, and indeed it usually is, given that so many religions are merely ancient stories translated into all the languages of the world to be read by worshippers in all cultures. So 5000 of 6000 years are spent in such mindless robotic thinking’s, and it does get tiring after a while.

One becoming so exhausted with thinking that the idea of the sun becoming welcoming, are almost driven insanely into the desert such as those of my kind in the thick novels resting in plenty on bookshelves in every bookstore of the world. Their dark magnetic, even gothic, covers attracting mortals like a spider traps an insect in its carefully crafted web.

Yet such a creature as old as I, we cannot die, even if we wish it to be so. We cannot be extinguished by fire or by the bright light of the sun, undeniably some of us exist in this light, that no matter how old we are still almost blinded by such a light, and it still burns our eyes, but we can exist in it. Some of us can even thrive in it; especially those who loved to bask in the sun as a worldly being. A mortal.

The night is dark now, cold, the wind barely felt against alabaster cheeks as it makes my jet-black hair whip around my face like threads of pure obsidian. My senses soared, becoming almost intoxicated as I tilt my face up to the crystalline moonbeams; their quicksilver shimmers dancing over soft, yet somewhat gently pointed features, making my skin seemingly glow in a more preternatural light. My nostrils flared like those of some predatory animal and in fact that’s what I was to some extent. And like an animal I only killed what I could eat. Even one of us had moral principles… well... some of us regardless.

A girl was not too far away, she was starving and disease ridden, barely even an adult. Her heart was still that of a child, yet her body was riddled with the scars and her mind traumatized by hundreds of men. That was how she survived, like many others in this wasteland of humanity. It was like I had wrapped her in a shroud of freedom. Her glittering blue eyes filled with tears as she mumbled prayers to the goddess in which she worshipped, becoming evident by a petite silver adornment hanging lightly at her throat in the shape of a small cat with emerald eyes; a gorgeous thing actually, a fitting tribute to the goddess.

She muttered softly in my ear as I nuzzled my pale face into her neck, a sharp gasp piercing her gullet as my fangs sank gently into her balmy alluring flesh. My eyes rolled back in the ecstasy of the blood flooding the back of my throat, filling my veins with such bliss I was sure I would die from the pleasure it conjured within me. Delicate white fingers cupped the nape of her neck as her brunette wreathed head fell back, eyes rolling up, her soft pink lips parted slightly.

I studied her face for a moment before slipping my hand into her chest cavity, once again amazed at the effortlessness in which it was done, and lifting her still beating heart to my lips. Closing my eyes, I drank from it like one would the juice of a luscious tropical fruit. It would seem I am what I am, and I am a killer. That will never alter, no matter how many nights are spent in pondering in introspective thought.