I went by them unseen, the humans. To them I was no more than a dusty little bit of wind that seemed to come out of nowhere. Down I traveled the roads I knew as a young man so changed now with the passage of 174 years.I think again on all my small adventures. Now for the first time in my existence since I met that virago who stole my human life I am free…but at what cost? My fears, those small ones that seemed so big haunt me. I nearly drained her dry and though I did come to her to give her my healing, I know things will never be the same.
She screamed at me, like the bride before the monster and I felt my dead heart break. I can feel my bloody tears drying now on my cool skin and I hate what I am. But had I not been made as I am, I would never have known her. She is all the vital things I had to get and reach. I am guilty of many things. Some things began before I ever knew her or even suspected I could love again. And that is the great thing, the only thing. And I know that I will have to answer for that, as I will for so many things when I come to that great day that dawns. Will it dawn for me too? I have never seen so much daylight in my existence. I have been as I am now for much longer than I was ever human, and in the past weeks, I have never had the experience of so much sunlight. Is that a portent?
I stop now in front of my home and I barely recognize it. It is fresh and new and clean and I marvel at the capacity of these humans to know me and accept me. I walk in quietly and there on the couch are my sweet sister wives, sleeping in the heat with a fan blowing on them. I go to the place where I rest, my child and I and I find a note written in an ornate hand.
Bill,
Go on up to your room, we have made it light tight for you. Have a nice rest,
Aslinn
I go up the stairs and I step into the bath room and strip off my filthy clothes. I can still smell my maker on them, the reeking stench of her blood is still upon me. The soil of my grave is still on my skin and feels grainy. I run my fingers through my hair and feel the dirt there in my scalp. I get into the shower and run hot water. I stand under the spray, and feel the water pounding on my skin. I reach for the soap and begin to wash. I scrub myself very hard but I fear I am forever tainted with all my sins. Like Pontius Pilate, I cannot wash away the blood of my innocent bride that I nearly drained. I will myself not shed anymore tears. I rinse off in the hot water and get out. I run a tub of water and I slide into it. I lay my head back and feel the heat going into my skin, making it pink and warm. How I wished I were truly brave enough to face the final death. But I cannot. I must try to discover if there is a part of me worth redeeming. Something worth all the pain and misery and vileness that was my existence.
Can she ever forgive me? I cannot say I would rather be dead than have hurt her, because I fed from her, nearly to death. But it would never have been my choice if I had control over myself to have done her harm. My hunger was so blind and she tasted so sweet that I drank and drank and drank. And I fell asleep beside her, like a child sated from a glut of his mother’s milk and I would never have known til perhaps too late had I not been wakened out of my stupor by Tara.
And what of the girl brought to me for punishment? The one I made and abandoned. What would happen to her if I were to go to the final death? I have to do something for her. This is not what I wanted for my life and I never would have done this to her.
Dawn is approaching and I must go to my rest. Still, I feel the dark approaching us all, blotting out all life and seeking to overtake the order designed to keep us safe. In hindsight though, how safe were we? Safety is an illusion and my heart, unbeating and dead as it is troubles me as I dry off, and lie down in my bed with its sun dried sheets and pillow cases and close my eyes with the dawn, the dawn of that great day and the light that fills the world.
She screamed at me, like the bride before the monster and I felt my dead heart break. I can feel my bloody tears drying now on my cool skin and I hate what I am. But had I not been made as I am, I would never have known her. She is all the vital things I had to get and reach. I am guilty of many things. Some things began before I ever knew her or even suspected I could love again. And that is the great thing, the only thing. And I know that I will have to answer for that, as I will for so many things when I come to that great day that dawns. Will it dawn for me too? I have never seen so much daylight in my existence. I have been as I am now for much longer than I was ever human, and in the past weeks, I have never had the experience of so much sunlight. Is that a portent?
I stop now in front of my home and I barely recognize it. It is fresh and new and clean and I marvel at the capacity of these humans to know me and accept me. I walk in quietly and there on the couch are my sweet sister wives, sleeping in the heat with a fan blowing on them. I go to the place where I rest, my child and I and I find a note written in an ornate hand.
Bill,
Go on up to your room, we have made it light tight for you. Have a nice rest,
Aslinn
I go up the stairs and I step into the bath room and strip off my filthy clothes. I can still smell my maker on them, the reeking stench of her blood is still upon me. The soil of my grave is still on my skin and feels grainy. I run my fingers through my hair and feel the dirt there in my scalp. I get into the shower and run hot water. I stand under the spray, and feel the water pounding on my skin. I reach for the soap and begin to wash. I scrub myself very hard but I fear I am forever tainted with all my sins. Like Pontius Pilate, I cannot wash away the blood of my innocent bride that I nearly drained. I will myself not shed anymore tears. I rinse off in the hot water and get out. I run a tub of water and I slide into it. I lay my head back and feel the heat going into my skin, making it pink and warm. How I wished I were truly brave enough to face the final death. But I cannot. I must try to discover if there is a part of me worth redeeming. Something worth all the pain and misery and vileness that was my existence.
Can she ever forgive me? I cannot say I would rather be dead than have hurt her, because I fed from her, nearly to death. But it would never have been my choice if I had control over myself to have done her harm. My hunger was so blind and she tasted so sweet that I drank and drank and drank. And I fell asleep beside her, like a child sated from a glut of his mother’s milk and I would never have known til perhaps too late had I not been wakened out of my stupor by Tara.
And what of the girl brought to me for punishment? The one I made and abandoned. What would happen to her if I were to go to the final death? I have to do something for her. This is not what I wanted for my life and I never would have done this to her.
Dawn is approaching and I must go to my rest. Still, I feel the dark approaching us all, blotting out all life and seeking to overtake the order designed to keep us safe. In hindsight though, how safe were we? Safety is an illusion and my heart, unbeating and dead as it is troubles me as I dry off, and lie down in my bed with its sun dried sheets and pillow cases and close my eyes with the dawn, the dawn of that great day and the light that fills the world.
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