The snow falls silently on my cheek, biting at my flesh, melting into a clear liquid state. I’ve walked these forests for many a year, through the mist and fog, rain and snow. No one ever passes through, just me, eternally lost in a maze of hanging branches, no path to freedom. A locket lies by skeletal remains of a fellow friend, rusted to a state of which it can no longer be recognised as a dear possession. It lies taunting me, sat unopened, and knowing of my incapability to reach down and open it. I strive to see the face of another being again, yet as days grow into months, and the months into years, I realise my time is over. Rarely sleeping, I continue on in the dark, searching for the old tree under which I lie each night, observing the stars, as I saw the locket – out of reach, a mere fading dream. My vocal cords stolen away by the bitter cold, I silently say my prayers to the illuminated sky and fade off, back into the nightmares of the day I died.
Why I am bound to these lands, I do not know. I have reached the edge, but have been pushed back by the thick mist, obscuring the outside world from my view. Seemingly cold, I reach out and press the rotten stumps of my fingers to the layer of thick webs, and snap back as I find the mist to be torrid to the touch. Silently once again, I weep into the now empty night sky; even the stars have a refusal to light up such a scene. I turn my back on the binds of the forest, and stare into the depths of the woods. The trees stand, whistling the sad songs of the deceased, humming to the tune of the dead, swaying rejoiced, never forgetting the sights they’ve stood by and witnessed through their centuries of life. I walk back, singing a ballad in my head, keeping myself occupied on the long trek back to the centre of the forest.
My night is filled with the visions of death once again. My death was not instantaneous – the stake piercing my heart clotted the blood and slowed the loss of it, gradually bringing me to my knees. I cannot blame those who killed me, for when I was a human, the simple idea of vampirism shook me to my core. Once I was struck and fed off, I realised there was nothing more to fear, only to strive for. My courage got the better of me, and was I lured into a trap set up by those who despised me most – useless holy water sprayed across my face and a wooden cross drove through my heart. I was taken in my state to the forest in which I now wander, left to die. I spy on that rotting carcass each day, staring at the skeleton I used to call my own. The locket which lays inside clasps an image of my one true love, the one who stuck by me through my vampirism, the one who died defending me, the picture of the only one I ever will, have and had cared for – locked away forever, as I am in this eternal forest.
I sense something is different now. The impending aura of death has seemed to have lifted very slightly, and I feel something I haven’t felt in many a year – hunger. Strangely enough, I hadn’t realised all this time that a drop of blood hasn’t passed my lips in almost a decade – like I was hibernating, but of course hibernating has its repercussions; I’m starving now. I must hunt for something to gorge on, but this shrouded forest has no forms of life, except for the milling black trees, which could not satisfy even human hunger. My only choice is to race to the edge of the forest, to see if the clouded perimeter has evaporated into an open plain. It’s a slim chance, but one all the same; it feels like the right thing to do. As I run through the trees, I pass carcass of the being I once called myself, and look at the locket. Just one more try. I reach down and clasp my fingers around the rusted metal, squeezing. I can feel it, coolly sitting in my palm. Shocked, I turn my palm over and open it to my view. The locket sits there, rusted, yet seemingly gleaming. Clicking the lock, I open up the rusty clasp and turn the front over, and…
…nothing. The locket is empty. All these years, the only thing keeping me sane, empty! With a rage howling louder than the midnight wind, I launch the locket across the forest with seemingly superhuman strength and carry on through the night.
As I near the clearing, I notice something is definitely different. The usual static buzz of the white mist seems to be long gone, and as I near where the blockade used to stand, I realise that’s gone too. I stare wondrously out onto the open land, spying the shadow of another man. He will be the one I feed on. As I track him down and chase him, I notice that, although I don’t believe I’ve ever been on these plains, I recognise the scenery. My thirst getting the better of my curiosity, I pursue the man, until I am but 100 meters away from him. I stop, and slowly creep up, a lion stalking his prey. As quickly as I tossed the locket, I’m on him. Using my deformed canines, I bite down into his jugular, letting the warm, copper-tasting blood flow into my dry, crusted mouth, drinking until his veins ran dry. I spin him round, to get to finding another supple vein, but I catch his face. This is impossible, how could this be? I now know why I recognise the scenery. I’m staring into my own eyes.
