mortal blood / Kirk Hammett

02

I poked him, I don't know what I was expecting, he didn't wake up, relief washed over my body, he was cold. Panic. There's a dead decomposing body here and I just touched it. I froze once again, shock on me again, the simple fact of seeing him there, was sad, strange and straight up worrying. Why was I sad for someone I didn't know? The strangest part seemed to be, he doesn't even look from this century. Or the one before, or the one before that one.

He didn't react to my touch, he just remained eerily still, as if in a deep sleep. The longer I looked at him, the more I noticed strange details. For example, his hair wasn't decaying like the fabric of his clothes. It was completely preserved, in fact, his whole body was preserved. It was like time had stopped for him, leaving him trapped in eternal youth.

I've heard vampire stories, maybe this was one of them. I don't think it's normal enough for a human to sleep in a coffin and wear old clothes, also being paler than an eggshell wasn't quite normal. Maybe he wasn't going to wake up, this fact finally made my body move. I walked around the room again, old paintings covered in dust, gloomy looking bottles of different liquids on shelves, no mirrors. I walked back over to the coffin, I wanted to see the details carved on it, but i nearly fainted as I saw the corpse open its eyes and its pupils moving to look at me. 

I gasped as the corpse in the coffin suddenly opened its eyes and looked directly into mine, its eyes moving around before focusing on you. Its expression remained emotionless, its gaze cold and lifeless. He continued to stare at me in silence, his pupils focusing on me as if trying to decipher your very soul. "it's rude to interrupt people's sleep" He said with a smooth and soft voice, his pronunciation perfect, almost as if a poet spoke.

"I- I'm so sorry" I slurred through my words, i was feeling lightheaded, maybe it was the dead air, maybe it was the presence of this being, now alive. He didn't react to the apology, his expression remaining unchanged. Instead, he slowly began to sit up in the coffin, his every movement smooth and graceful, almost inhuman.

"May I ask who you are and what you are doing here, my dear?" He asked, his voice calm and soft, yet somehow imposing.

"I'm Scarlett" I tried to say firmly enough, but I bet I sounded like a scared 5 year old. I was scared though. I mentally face palmed, I could've lied, told a cooler name, he probably had a bad-ass name. "I like your home" I face palmed once more. He probably didn't know why there was a stranger in his house, but he probably didn't also know the place was abandoned and an urban legend.

He let out a low chuckle "Ah, the house. A lovely structure, isn't it? Built in Victorian times by an eccentric man who spent most of his life roaming the woods. Unfortunately, the house was abandoned and left to rot during the 19th century. Since then, I've been here, alone and forgotten, only woken from centuries of slumber when someone dares disturb my rest." He spoke in a calm and measured tone, his words laced with a hint of pain and loneliness.

"19th-?" I stopped myself before mentioning an out of place comment. This guy had probably been asleep for ages, he sounded like a 1920s movie

He nodded, a hint of amusement in his red eyes. "Yes, the 19th century. I was born in 1624, and I've been here ever since. Time passes, buildings crumble to dust, and humans live and die, but I remain, eternal." He took on a pensive expression, his voice filled with nostalgia. "How I long for the simple pleasures of human life. The taste of wine, the warm glow of candlelight, the sound of music..." He laughed, a chilling sound that echoed off the walls.

I was confused, looked down, did the math and then an amused expression took over my face "YOU'RE 362 YEARS OLD?" He smirked at my reaction, a mischievous glint in his eyes.