I never shall tire again.
It’s ten o’clock and I’m only just getting out of school. I suppose it’s the curse of being a drama student but that doesn’t comfort you against the dark when you leave. The blackness folds around you like a shadowy cape that you can’t shrug off, and even the not easily spooked aren’t entirely confident underneath the moon. Walking out of the school gates I rubbed my eyes slightly, I was so tired I think If it hadn't have been so cold I would have slept where I fell. It was so cold however, that I just brought my coat closer around me and started to shuffle home. I breath out slowly and the cold air hit my throat, making my eyes water. I could hear cars in the distance, along with the muffled sound of the pub I had to pass everyday to get to home. So many people…
and yet no-one came to help.
In order to cross the road I have to walk under the canal bridge; on one side of me was the dark, dank, dripping brickwork, the other side was just cold black water. On any other night it would have been different, I'd have crossed the road to avoid going under the bridge but I was still buzzing from the rehearsal, earlier. So much so that I didn't hear him come up behind me until he had me in his grip. I felt his hot breath on my neck and a slight growl before razor sharp fangs sunk into my neck. I tried to scream, I tried to fight back but he was inhumanly strong and I slipped into the blackness.
I must say that it's a strange experience to wake up drowned. When you scream you realise you're breathing in water and you can't feel it... it makes you want to scream again but there's no release. Just more water, more water spinning down your throat like air. And that alone told me. Told me I was no longer of the living. It seems a strange thing to think when I am on the bed of the canal, underneath a bridge only minutes from my home. But I instinctively know that I can never go back.
Somehow I have no grief, no sadness, I am suddenly detached from my old life... it's a new start. But a new start in which I need to spend the entire day under water as to avoid the blinding sun that cuts through the water just metres away. I can feel the cold water biting into my skin but it's not an unpleasant feeling, as a human I would liken it to the warmth of the sun on your arms though the memory of that feeling fills me with a burning fear. I move my arm through the water in front of me, it ripples in front of me, dancing and swirling. I suddenly understand the unspeakable beauty of the natural world but with that knowledge comes a niggling hunger fighting for attention.
Hours later the light disappears from the water and I swim towards the bank. Surprisingly strong arms allow me to lift myself out of the water, my wet clothes clinging to me, the water dripping red with my own blood. An old lady walking her dog screams and basically runs on along the canal path when she sees my now skinny skeletal form, calm and pale in the moonlight.
Now I run. I run away from the village I grew up in, away from anyone who knew me and away from my disappearance that will be haunting my family and friends... my family and friends who now feel like strangers to me. I run to the main road and head towards the next town and on through time itself... miles and miles I run but I don't tire, I never tire.
And I never shall.
and yet no-one came to help.
In order to cross the road I have to walk under the canal bridge; on one side of me was the dark, dank, dripping brickwork, the other side was just cold black water. On any other night it would have been different, I'd have crossed the road to avoid going under the bridge but I was still buzzing from the rehearsal, earlier. So much so that I didn't hear him come up behind me until he had me in his grip. I felt his hot breath on my neck and a slight growl before razor sharp fangs sunk into my neck. I tried to scream, I tried to fight back but he was inhumanly strong and I slipped into the blackness.
I must say that it's a strange experience to wake up drowned. When you scream you realise you're breathing in water and you can't feel it... it makes you want to scream again but there's no release. Just more water, more water spinning down your throat like air. And that alone told me. Told me I was no longer of the living. It seems a strange thing to think when I am on the bed of the canal, underneath a bridge only minutes from my home. But I instinctively know that I can never go back.
Somehow I have no grief, no sadness, I am suddenly detached from my old life... it's a new start. But a new start in which I need to spend the entire day under water as to avoid the blinding sun that cuts through the water just metres away. I can feel the cold water biting into my skin but it's not an unpleasant feeling, as a human I would liken it to the warmth of the sun on your arms though the memory of that feeling fills me with a burning fear. I move my arm through the water in front of me, it ripples in front of me, dancing and swirling. I suddenly understand the unspeakable beauty of the natural world but with that knowledge comes a niggling hunger fighting for attention.
Hours later the light disappears from the water and I swim towards the bank. Surprisingly strong arms allow me to lift myself out of the water, my wet clothes clinging to me, the water dripping red with my own blood. An old lady walking her dog screams and basically runs on along the canal path when she sees my now skinny skeletal form, calm and pale in the moonlight.
Now I run. I run away from the village I grew up in, away from anyone who knew me and away from my disappearance that will be haunting my family and friends... my family and friends who now feel like strangers to me. I run to the main road and head towards the next town and on through time itself... miles and miles I run but I don't tire, I never tire.
And I never shall.
Labels: vampires