Dawn and Dusk

This, this is the moment. The air gets thinner, fresh over the skin; the twisted swarming of life calms down.

The silence greets the movement of the planet that turns its back against the Sun; shining firefly lights up in the bluish blanket of the sky, reddish purple stripes still lacerates the horizon like soft, savory wounds, dripping blood.

This is it.

The twilight's fragrance is a radiant variety of sensations. With my eyes closed I can sense their hues.

The mortal creatures withdraw to their houses, looking for a shelter after the hot day of work. I can sense the vibrations of their hearts, the frustration, the anger, the tiredness, the hate: when the Earth hides its face from the Sun, the Evil pour in the streets, overbearing and sure of himself.

I am the Evil, but they created me.

Then I sense it, in the cacophony of smells, the clear scent of morning dew. It hasn't changed. Despite the time that goes and goes, despite the fact that this world is crumbling under my feet, it hasn't changed.

Why?

I can't restrain my body from following it. Just now that the darkness spreads in feeler of shadows I'm able to leave my dark shelter.

My throat is parched, the thirst unbearable, but my desire to follow that scent is stronger than anything else.

I'm going to wear out, like a plant left to dry out, after having been watered with innocents' blood for centuries, I'm going to wear out because of him.

Damn my unmoving heart.

Horizon's red wounds heal, sewn together by the dark filament of the night.

The creatures like me can finally crawl out of their lair. I watch them out of the corner of my eye, without paying attention to them. As I pass they withdraw hissing, scared: to them, I'm their Master.

How cruel is my existence, master of a reign that I never wanted, son of chaos, survived because of my fear of dying and my need of living. I dispraise myself, forgetting the horrors I witnessed and the ones I achieved.

Evil originates Evil, and it put down roots into Good.

I wouldn't need to follow the scent to know where to go, I wandered through these streets every night for.. how long? When one doesn't undergo the damages of it, time loses its importance, yet, I'm so firmly tied to it.

I can enjoy his presence just until the dawn, when my reign ends, the shadows retreat, and the Earth comes back to show his jovial smile to the Sun.

He doesn't know about my existence, he lives to celebrate Life, while I celebrate Death. He senses my presence as a thicker shadow, and never have his eyes of jade fallen upon me. Yet, when I slip closer to him, he shivers, he looks around, he looks for me: he can't shy away from the cold I impose over his soul.

Maybe that's what leads me to come back every night.

His beauty stole the colours of dusk, while everything around is black, he shines of red. A little flame of life, intense warm thing, in a world already died out.

I see him smile, I sense the blood rushing through his veins, I crave him.

This, this is the moment. I pounce on him, I taste his flesh, the blood fills me, restoring.

I feast with him 'till the sky starts to turn pink, 'till the first rays of the rising star touch the ground.

It's the dawn, it's time for me to sleep. His mangled soul's voice will cradle my sleep.