Newborn

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by twelveneer

by twelveneer

Newborn

When in the darkest recesses of our minds I craved to dwell and perceived things, reveling in the perilous colors of dusk and blood, I doubt I could still cling with the thin sheet of sanity left.

The torrential rains in the forest continued to pelt, but the ice of wildness refused to melt. I saw the crimson eyes glowed in desired frenzy, the lips so thin I was envious of dearly, and the porcelain skin that never failed me. All of them were the things I admired, and the owner of those was the one to whom my blood was desired.

As the fog disappeared, I saw the fangs that was bared and blood-smeared. It lunged for the delicate vein in my neck, I was going to be devoured . . . that I suspected to be perfect. When I can do nothing but lay limp on the ground, he carressed my wrist and uttered no sound.

He bit me, turned me, placed me to an unfathomable possibilities between forlornness and mirth. I could bear with the intermittent pain and agony. It was an honor to receive, and in return, I could be flayed as he may. From the hollowness he found me, and into it I shall return, into the vacuum where even the scorching fire could not penetrate.

And I awoke to a new world where I did not fear sickness or death, for my Master had given me life without a breath. Eternal days now I have, thanks to my Master, my beloved.

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