Post by auralie on Jan 9, 2008 9:29:31 GMT -5
From a distance you might have thought about approaching her. You might watch her dark silhouette sinking in and out of shadows and find it alluring. You might even work up the nerve to ask her for her number or for a late night cup of coffee at some little cafe' that back in the day was a famous pub. Each and every step that draws her closer to you might give you an extra zip of confidence.
Finally, as she approaches you can finally make out her features. To you, this woman is beautiful. She is a pixie. She is a Goddess. You realize in that moment that no other woman has ever been more breathtaking. But, as quickly as it came, you realize that the glow that you would like to have imagined over your angel is nothing more than the thick fog lifting from the cold asphalt. When you glance into her eyes you will find nothing. It will creep into your bones, the evil that is now oozing off of her. You will stand there shaking as you watch her disappear into the dark abyss that she emerged from. Your skin will grow cold and clammy, you will just now be aware of the sweat that your body is now drenched in.
You will turn and run in the opposite direction. Run from your demon. Run home. You will clutch the bed sheets and cry out into the night while having the type of nightmares that sends you reeling to confession in the mornings, fearing the demon that possesses your dreams and sends you spiraling through an incubus that you can not block out.
Surely this woman, she was the demon Lilith, she was Satan's right hand, she was slowly sinking into your body like a cancer.
What is this creature Vampire?
Auralie slowly looked around the desolate graveyard. Her fingers traced over the earth. She sat, leaning against a tombstone separated from all the others. A tear slid down her cheek. When she glanced at it, a light laugh escaped her lips. She half expected it to be black. With her head leaned back, face toward the moon, and fingers dug into the soft earth she wept. She was old, too old. She had no one. She was scorned, left alone and abandoned. She pressed her face against the cold stone and traced the carved name.
He was alive once, and he loved her. Despite what she was, despite what she had done. She was the death mistress, he was mercy sweet release. He was her escape, her clutch on what reality she could handle. Now he was dead. She lifted a bottle of cheap whiskey to her lips. Taking back gulps at a time, her mind raced. She sent the now empty bottle hurling through the air. She heard it crash against something. How long had he been dead? What day did he die? What day was today? She couldn't remember. She couldn't think. Standing up slowly and bracing herself on his gravestone she screamed into the night.
Her voice is nothing but a choking sob. Her face is covered in wasted tears. For the first time in years she feels something other than hate and cruelty. Here she was safe to cry, only with him. Her Gabriell. She would never see him again, never touch him. He was dead. In life, he had been a saint. He was the picture of purity. He was in heaven surely and she, she would be lucky to be granted the fact of remembering heaven. When it is her time she knew hell awaited. She had been automatically shunned from the Pearly Gates the night she was turned into a vampire. She already lived in an eternity of hell-What did one more mean to her. Her dark lips cracked as she parted them.
"I am Jack's Broken Heart, I am Jill's sweet Revenge."