Every Vampire eventually finds something that makes eternity worth living; I have found my reason for living, anger. You see I feel such anger about this that I know it is the only thing that keeps me going, for without this anger, which I have had for so many years, what do I have but empty shells and hollow spirits thought? I find the only way I can talk about this is to describe the scene before as I sit at my desk. Seldom have I seen the world in such a favourable light as I do now. At night it is too dark to appreciate the colours of the world and during the day, well I am sure we both understand that. But now in the tranquil eve I can see them again in all there glory and splendour. I find myself transfixed by a rose in my garden, beauty hiding many thorns. Upon my mantelpiece, sitting in a glass box is a rose of my own. It is so old that the leaves barely hold together. I took that rose so many nights ago. As the moon rose I went to say my goodbyes. All the mourners had left and only the flowers remained. As I knelt there, my tears wetting the ground beneath me, the freshly turned earth scenting the air with the smell of death. I was transfixed by a rose, as one does now, I took it as her last gift to me and now it sits, long dead but yet still alive to me. And when the memories stab at my heart I can look at that rose and feel her caress upon my face. I have glanced down at my left arm as I pause and the scar there has summoned more demons of my past. It is not a large scar, only one, maybe two, inches long, but what it lacks in size it makes up for with the number of memories it holds. In my minds eye I am once again walking from the theatre my arm locked in hers. The moon rising above us casting enough light that even her eyes could see. But what nether of us could see, no matter how bright the moon, was they that followed. I could hear their footfalls upon the street but what did I, a Vampire, care for the matters of men? What I did not hear nor see was her that followed. How can I explain the hatred that can burn in a heart as strong as the love that once dwelt there? Perhaps I know it now all too well. As I heard the men’s hearts begin to beat faster I was not concerned and when they struck I moved among them as an angle of death, but then She came and before I could move had struck down her who I loved beyond all things. After that scar and the hit to my head which left yet another there, I lay in a hospital bed falling in and out of consciousness as the life of another was pored into my veins. All the while my dearest lay not two doors away in much the same state as I. When finally I came back to myself, I spent ever waking moment by her bed. I sat beside her telling her of my love for her and my need for her. The sound the clock upon my wall makes echoes to me of the time I sat beside her as the beeping of the monitor slowly died away, singing to me of her coming death. So often have I waited for the shadows to fall and the cruel sun to set, but as I sat beside her I cried out to all the Gods that ever were or will ever be not to let her, the Sun of my life, set. Then as I rested my head upon her chest I felt her fingers running through my hair, I looked up into her fading eyes and she said to me “In the darkness of my mind I have heard you telling me how I will be ok and that I need have no fear, but you have no need to comfort me with these stories. Shed no more tears for me, for I am ready to die and I have no fear. The Lady will take me and the Lord will hold me.” Only nineteen years old and ready to die, I who am approaching my five hundredth year still cling to life and fear that which hangs beyond, but her, after not even two decades was ready to die. In that moment she showed more courage and strength than I believe I will ever have, no matter how many years I live. I sit now and the sun will soon rise, its feeble rays reminds me of once I stood behind her watching as the last rays of the sun fell behind the horizon. I could not understand how she, or anyone for that matter, could find it beautiful, but then when she turned her face from the glaring light, my gaze fell upon her and there I saw all the glory of the sun reflected in her face. The glory of its light ran through her hair and warmth of its rays played upon her brow. But now my sun has set and my entire world is turned to darkness and shades of grey. Only two scars can still be seen of that time but there are wounds of love that run much deeper than the skin, for the last rays of her life are burned into my mind and their heat have scared my soul. I find myself wondering why it is that the clearest memories are the ones of sorrow and loss. And now the wind kisses my face as darkness falls and perhaps in the darkness I can close my eyes and the wind will be her fingers running through my hair and the gleam of the setting sun will be her eyes and the earth below will be her body. Love has no end but neither does the pain that its loss brings. But now I feel a stirring in the very depths of the earth that gives me hope. Once again Witches walk openly, the occult is once more explored by mortal men and the whole world sings that it is time for those who dare to challenge the race of man to stand and be counted. A time of wonderment is coming and once again Majik will flow. |