Silence. I hear nothing. I see nothing. Eternal darkness envelops me, closing in on all sides, cutting off the air. I can't breathe. I'm suffocating. Help. Someone, please, help me…
Crimson pierces the darkening firmament. Is it blood? No. What is it then? Ginger and lavender lights the horizon. How can this be? Only a moment ago it was blue. Bluer than the crystal waters of the north. How did this happen? How can it be?
Sound. A trickle, a splash. Water falls from the leaves so delicate, so freshly grown that even the petals of the cauthorn bush would be jealous. A bird's call. Was it the nightingale? Whispering its sad, sweet song to the air around for all to hear? Or was it the lark? Crier of the morning light?
Smell. The ever-changing mists rise from the ground, soaking the world in its ever melodious cry to become one with the sky. Smelling of dirt, smelling of plants, smelling of blood. Blood? Whose blood. Surely I am not wounded? Did it happen during the battle? No, that was long ago. But whose crimson life force is it that drains so readily from their body? Whose crimson flow could cease to staunch and bleed until there was none left to be bled?
Touch. The sticky sweet blood is my own. But where is the source? I can not tell. How was I wounded? When did it occur? The soft cool texture of my neck, flawed by two small wounds, letting the blood flow freely from my body. A vampire? But those don't exist, not here, I killed them all. I must stop the bleeding. Must stop the blood flowing from my veins.
Thought. I don't have bandages. Nor any way to fix what has been done. What is left? I could use my clothing, tear them and make bandages. No, that would not work. I would still become one of them. One of the vampires. One that had killed so many of my kind. I should die. Kill myself now before I become one of them forever.
Conflict. But would that be so bad? To live eternally. Never fearing death. Never needing to worry? To live freely beneath the moon. To become a child of the night. To live without fear of eternal slumber. Yes. It would. To be hunted by those I once called my own. To embrace what, for all this time, I had sought to slay. To become what I have despised.
But would it really be so bad? Wouldn't it make my mission easier and then, when it's all over, I could take my life as well. Kill myself and rid this world of these creatures once and for all. But what if I can't do it? What if I'm not strong enough to take my own life? Too power hungry for life. Become truly one of them. What then? What would I do? I should kill myself now. Leave my task for someone more suited to the task.
Decision. Obsidian blade glistens dully in the ascending moon's light. Its edge is sharp. Death would be swift. I would suffer but for a moment, and then it would be over. Just one, quick slice. Pierce my own flesh, destroy my still human heart and I will be free. I raise the knife, high enough so that the impact would shatter everything vital to my survival, and at the last second, threw it away. Far enough so that, should I change my mind, I would never be able to reach it. Not in time to stop the transformation. The decision was mine. I made it. I would see the repercussions through all the way to the very last nanosecond of my life, even if it meant living the unnatural eons of the vampires. Living through all eternity as the hunter and the hunted…
Okay, so I realize this is like, my second topic tonight, but I've finally found all my stories and poems! *had lost them* And also it's not supposed to make A TON of sense...please comment!!!! *but don't kill it too horribly *sniff, sniff**
