Little Fire

Racing Unconciousness

Dawn was approaching and though my skin has acclimated to mild sunlight, I preferred to make it home before the encroaching rays fell upon the dew mottled grass.  I raced through the wooded park nestled in the middle of town as adrenaline coursed through my body.  I held the fragile girl dangerously close to me, relishing in her warmth, the slow beat of her heart, the foreign aroma of her long tendrils as they swept across my face, while shielding her from splintery fragments as I burst through the spindly trees.  I knew then that I would reach the outskirts of town before she regained consciousness, but again I found myself unsure of much else.  I ran until my feet left the ground, bounding into the dense overgrowth that protected my home.  Beneath the canopy, we were safe from view and the impending sunlight, but the thickets slowed me down immensely.  The straight path coalesced into a gnarled labyrinth that required the adept skill of vaulting oneself through tangled masses; up and over, down, around and through, one expedited turn after another.  The task was arduous with the tiny girl tucked into my chest.   She jostled about despite my intense grip; her eyes danced with my indiscriminate steps.  She was on the edge of consciousness.  I was cognizant that I would have to give in to myself, shamefully aware of how desperately I wanted this feeble thing in my arms.  I had been suppressing the demon inside me to accomplish the incredible feat at hand.  I was unsure how long my mind would overpower my instincts.   Allowing the killer inside me to take over in the least bit could have been the downfall, but it was the only way I could close the distance quickly enough.  My thirst for her swelled; it caused me physical grief to add to what had accumulated in my mind.  Desire raged within me.   My fangs extended, my vision cleared; I quickly converged into the irrepresible beast that lived inside of me, the miles becoming subsequent in my path.

Far beyond the edge of the bustling town of Joliet, sinking beneath the hills, deep into the Moselle Valley lies my chateau.  The great stone walls are well hidden beneath the flourishing forests, cut off from the civilization that I care not associate with. The only visible evidence of architecture appears to be abandoned ruins, undeterminable from the distances at which it can be viewed.   No human has ever crossed its threshold, and very few vampires have viewed its inner workings.  It is my sanctuary, and I am the only one to haunt its corridors since its erection in 1764. The outer shell is in shambles by design; it exudes solitude.   Its doors, adorned with cast iron dripstones, were excavated from desecrated Renaissance temples.  The entire anterior is guarded by dilapidated gargoyles and bosses, as if I needed any more protection.  Each of its seventeen rooms boasts the finest trinkets and furnishings from my travels, and my victims.  Every room is filled with mementos of lives I would never live, and the humans that lost them to the life I chose thousands of years ago.  My only sacred ground lay deep beneath the ornate façade, hidden in the belly of intricately planned catacombs. 

That was my destination on the night I stole the girl away; that is where I would decide her fate, fulfill some destiny I was formerly unaware of.  My heart burned insatiably when my eyes first glimpsed the stonework jutting from the valley side.  My feet slowed to a human’s run as I approached the gateless walls, I reassured my grip on the fledgling, and leapt effortlessly over the two-story barricade that stood between me and utmost security.  Nothing could save her now, except for me, and I was unsure of my intentions.

 This good fortune had happened upon me by chance so I took every precaution to solidify my plan.  I traveled the descending corridor without impinging on the steps. I navigated the crepuscular tunnels relying on memory and scotopic vision.  I heard each footfall echo the path taken and announce the forthcoming twists and turns.  The girl, quickly emerging from slumber, was nestled against me to protect her wandering limbs from grazing the jagged walls of the impending crypt.  I wanted no more arousal from my little victim until I was prepared for her.  Little did I know how unprepared I would be when she woke.    My final steps were not as manageable as I had imagined.  In my mind, I would turn the last impetuous corner and arrive at the precariously carved den.   I would lay her body amongst the Dupioni silk folds pooled in my mahogany coffin and I would wait for her to wake up.  What happened as I turned the corner was unforeseen, and nearly cost the girl her life, once again. 

She stirred slightly with the last step before the hollow; one blink, then two more.  Her eyes squinted in scrutiny before the first flinch.  That tiny jerk commenced into a maniacal defense; she writhed within my stronghold and when she realized her efforts were frivolous, the screaming broke open a chasm in my head.  I cringed at the sound if it, echoing throughout the expanse, though I held rigidly against her.  In my brief falter, she managed freeing her right arm, so tiny; it simply slipped beneath my embrace.  She looked up at me, though I knew her eyes were not superior to the darkness as were mine.  She seemed to sense my face, and her look scolded me for the atrocities I would bestow upon her.  There was no fear, no regret left in her eyes when she snarled at me.  She wanted to kill me for taking her, and oddly enough, I think she knew who I was.  I think she knew that the charming stranger she was enamored by on the street was the one that stood in the bleak, musty underground holding her captive.

 Caught in her gaze, she broadsided me with her free hand, I barely felt it, but I knew the hatred was there. Her inconsideration angered me.  I was coming unhinged, my muscles began to spasm.  Her scent so overwhelming, my lips quivered to bare my fangs.  Useless as it was, I tried to regain my composure.  I cut off my own air supply and closed my gaping jaw.  My hand molded itself over her mouth and I waited for her breathe to dissipate into the damp, earthy air. She continued to squirm, kicking against my broad chest, trying to wear me down, but only weakening herself.  The hot air escaping her nostrils tickled my numb digits.  She was breathing fast and heavy.  She was tired, but wouldn’t give up.  I pulled her closer, applying dangereous amounts of pressure to her tiny frame.  I knew at that point I was hurting her.  I relished in it for brief seconds before becoming overwhelmed with that odd sense of guilt.  I loosened my grip, knowing her fate within my arms would not change, if I wasn't obliged to change it.

 Beneath my palm had emerged a dainty sqeal that sent my instincts into overdrive.  It was a lost desire that drove me over the edge, hearing that erotic, stifled moan.  My thirst was rapacious when I gripped her insignificant head, turned it forcibly away from me and tore into her flesh.  The shriek that erupted from her vocal cords was cut short with an involuntary chokehold placed across her delicate trachea.  I bore my fangs into her, tearing flesh, mangling her as I drank.  I broke free only to drive my overachieving incisors into her shoulder, her muscles giving way like the brittle flesh of a pear.  She made one attempt to grasp my face, and as her placid hand fell away, I stopped and questioned myself.  My indecision was unfathomable.  Never had I been so controversial in my actions. 

This forsaken child of humanity caused such grief that I could not let go of.  She was alive and in pain.  I cringed at her inaudible pleas, they reverberated in my mind. “Just kill me,” she breathed.  I bit into her again out of fear and anguish, abiding her time; I drank until she faded again.  Her heart beat scantily.  Even in the darkness, I watched as her pallor ashened from the blood loss.  She fell limp against me.  Again, I caught a glimpse of the eternal beauty she could be if I had the strength to change her.