(no subject)
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, "Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store, Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore - Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore Of 'Never - nevermore'
But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling, Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door; Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore - What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking "Nevermore"
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er, But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er, She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Was it any wonder that these few words of a dark poet would assail my mind in that instant? The room seemed to be filled with his very presence, then engulfed me like that Raven of my nightmares. There was no time for words of any kind to his summons to go with him. Did I think to decline? Did I think to fight him off? Perhaps for a split second there was a vague fear that I would be trading one prison for another. Yet, the thought of finally being free was enough to calm any fears for the time being.
He sped me to freedom, this feathered phantom of my imagination. Tightly nestled within his protective grasp, this sinister tall figure, cloaked all in black, whispered words of my greatest desires softly against my ear. Promises. Freedom. Truth. So seductive was his voice that I grew drowsy and pliable, giving way to lay my head upon his shoulder as he flew us further and further away from my former prison. But never once did I stop listening, even as I closed my eyes in my growing weakness and hunger.
"Yes, kill me with kindness. But, please, kill me."
There came a deep but patient laugh, when I felt our journey come to a sudden halt. He released me, and I slid down to the floor, no longer able to hold myself up on my own power. The place that I found myself smelled faintly of death, so subtle that no human could detect it. Yet, when I looked up, all I could see was an empty, dusty chamber. Had we finally come to the end of the journey?
When I looked harder into this space, Santino was nowhere in sight. All I could see was a single, modern marble sarcophagus set in the center of the room. Then it dawned on me, we were in a crypt of someone long dead. That’s where the scent was coming from. An almost uncontrollable fear came over me that Santino would leave me here alone when dawn was all too nearing and I wouldn‘t have the strength to hide from the sun, or worse, being found by some unsuspecting visitor to this tomb.
The words had formed on my lips to call out for him to return, then died out just as quickly when the strong scent of human blood filled my nostrils. There in the doorway stood Santino, and again I could feel his powerful presence shrouding the room, almost suffocating me. In his hands was a stunned, but still living, mortal male. "Come, Daniel. You must feed, for our journey is not yet finished."
I stared hard at the man, while my hunger hit with the full force of a great storm. There was no fight to this one, he stood frozen, hypnotized, waiting for me. Something wasn’t right about this, but my mind was too clouded, and my thirst was too demanding to fully comprehend the reason of why it was wrong. The only thing that spoke to me now was the blood. I didn’t realize I had moved at all, until my lips were pressed hard against the hot flesh of his throat, crushing his soft mortal body in my tight embrace, as my fangs found their home in that strong throb of life.
The first wash of blood over my tongue was like pure heaven. The bloodlust held me captive, and I moaned softly with pure pleasure, as I drank hard and fast. If heaven had a taste, this was most certainly it. Strength was returning back into every limb, and my head became clear again. As always with the blood comes the inner essence of the one that gives us nourishment. To my sudden horror I could see into this man’s heart. He was an innocent. Yet, It was too late, his heart had already begun that slow, fatal rhythm which only meant immanent death for this poor soul.
My mind recoiled from his, then I laid him slowly to the floor; there my victim took his last breath of life. I sat hypnotized at the look of peace that all my victims have in their final rest. A peace, I will never know. My fingers brushed lightly over his lashes to close his eyes for the last time, while the weight of what I had done grew heavier with each passing moment.
"Why?" The question was barley out of my mouth, before I felt those dark eyes boring into me.
"There is no great mystery, Daniel. You had to feed, and he was all I could find on such short notice." He seemed puzzled as to why I would be upset over this mortal’s death. Could he not see that in my heart I had gone against everything I had been taught and committed a most grievous act? Moreover, did he care?
For the first time I truly looked upon the man who had given his life. His uniform marked him as some kind of security guard. No doubt his job was to watch over and protect this place of death. But, who was to protect him from the dead? That night, the graveyard shift took on a whole new meaning.
The silence was broken when Santino moved the lid aside of the marble box. What a terrible sound that was, and how it grated my nerves to hear it; a sound similar to someone clawing their fingernails down over a chalkboard. I grew agitated and cold, then began trembling, despite the warm blood that now ran through my veins. The worst of it was, I had never felt better or stronger. His blood was like no other I had tasted. Though, my greatest fear was, I would want more.
There was no time to fully enjoy this new feeling, the dawn was getting closer, made evident by my sluggish movements and the heaviness I felt. A pair of strong hands took hold of my arms and then pulled me over to the sarcophagus. I was quickly losing the strength I gained, and there was no fight in me to resist.
Unceremoniously I was shoved into the box, and Santino was soon to follow. Inside was dirty and cramped, and as the lid was moved back in place, sealing us protectively away from the coming day, I couldn’t help but miss my comfortable bed. Would I ever see home again? Unable to resist it any longer, I closed my eyes. The last image that appeared behind my lids was the face of Armand, and how he stood over me in my room laughing at me. His face was the last thing I wanted to see right then, so I turned my head to the side to banish his image, and as I did, I felt the faint sensation of fangs sinking deep into my neck. Before I could push Santino away, all went black, and I slept. . . .
But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling, Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door; Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore - What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking "Nevermore"
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er, But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er, She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Was it any wonder that these few words of a dark poet would assail my mind in that instant? The room seemed to be filled with his very presence, then engulfed me like that Raven of my nightmares. There was no time for words of any kind to his summons to go with him. Did I think to decline? Did I think to fight him off? Perhaps for a split second there was a vague fear that I would be trading one prison for another. Yet, the thought of finally being free was enough to calm any fears for the time being.
He sped me to freedom, this feathered phantom of my imagination. Tightly nestled within his protective grasp, this sinister tall figure, cloaked all in black, whispered words of my greatest desires softly against my ear. Promises. Freedom. Truth. So seductive was his voice that I grew drowsy and pliable, giving way to lay my head upon his shoulder as he flew us further and further away from my former prison. But never once did I stop listening, even as I closed my eyes in my growing weakness and hunger.
"Yes, kill me with kindness. But, please, kill me."
There came a deep but patient laugh, when I felt our journey come to a sudden halt. He released me, and I slid down to the floor, no longer able to hold myself up on my own power. The place that I found myself smelled faintly of death, so subtle that no human could detect it. Yet, when I looked up, all I could see was an empty, dusty chamber. Had we finally come to the end of the journey?
When I looked harder into this space, Santino was nowhere in sight. All I could see was a single, modern marble sarcophagus set in the center of the room. Then it dawned on me, we were in a crypt of someone long dead. That’s where the scent was coming from. An almost uncontrollable fear came over me that Santino would leave me here alone when dawn was all too nearing and I wouldn‘t have the strength to hide from the sun, or worse, being found by some unsuspecting visitor to this tomb.
The words had formed on my lips to call out for him to return, then died out just as quickly when the strong scent of human blood filled my nostrils. There in the doorway stood Santino, and again I could feel his powerful presence shrouding the room, almost suffocating me. In his hands was a stunned, but still living, mortal male. "Come, Daniel. You must feed, for our journey is not yet finished."
I stared hard at the man, while my hunger hit with the full force of a great storm. There was no fight to this one, he stood frozen, hypnotized, waiting for me. Something wasn’t right about this, but my mind was too clouded, and my thirst was too demanding to fully comprehend the reason of why it was wrong. The only thing that spoke to me now was the blood. I didn’t realize I had moved at all, until my lips were pressed hard against the hot flesh of his throat, crushing his soft mortal body in my tight embrace, as my fangs found their home in that strong throb of life.
The first wash of blood over my tongue was like pure heaven. The bloodlust held me captive, and I moaned softly with pure pleasure, as I drank hard and fast. If heaven had a taste, this was most certainly it. Strength was returning back into every limb, and my head became clear again. As always with the blood comes the inner essence of the one that gives us nourishment. To my sudden horror I could see into this man’s heart. He was an innocent. Yet, It was too late, his heart had already begun that slow, fatal rhythm which only meant immanent death for this poor soul.
My mind recoiled from his, then I laid him slowly to the floor; there my victim took his last breath of life. I sat hypnotized at the look of peace that all my victims have in their final rest. A peace, I will never know. My fingers brushed lightly over his lashes to close his eyes for the last time, while the weight of what I had done grew heavier with each passing moment.
"Why?" The question was barley out of my mouth, before I felt those dark eyes boring into me.
"There is no great mystery, Daniel. You had to feed, and he was all I could find on such short notice." He seemed puzzled as to why I would be upset over this mortal’s death. Could he not see that in my heart I had gone against everything I had been taught and committed a most grievous act? Moreover, did he care?
For the first time I truly looked upon the man who had given his life. His uniform marked him as some kind of security guard. No doubt his job was to watch over and protect this place of death. But, who was to protect him from the dead? That night, the graveyard shift took on a whole new meaning.
The silence was broken when Santino moved the lid aside of the marble box. What a terrible sound that was, and how it grated my nerves to hear it; a sound similar to someone clawing their fingernails down over a chalkboard. I grew agitated and cold, then began trembling, despite the warm blood that now ran through my veins. The worst of it was, I had never felt better or stronger. His blood was like no other I had tasted. Though, my greatest fear was, I would want more.
There was no time to fully enjoy this new feeling, the dawn was getting closer, made evident by my sluggish movements and the heaviness I felt. A pair of strong hands took hold of my arms and then pulled me over to the sarcophagus. I was quickly losing the strength I gained, and there was no fight in me to resist.
Unceremoniously I was shoved into the box, and Santino was soon to follow. Inside was dirty and cramped, and as the lid was moved back in place, sealing us protectively away from the coming day, I couldn’t help but miss my comfortable bed. Would I ever see home again? Unable to resist it any longer, I closed my eyes. The last image that appeared behind my lids was the face of Armand, and how he stood over me in my room laughing at me. His face was the last thing I wanted to see right then, so I turned my head to the side to banish his image, and as I did, I felt the faint sensation of fangs sinking deep into my neck. Before I could push Santino away, all went black, and I slept. . . .