“Vanfir”
Cold pale skin, blood shot eyes, long cascade hair that flows with the cold air at night, and the clothes that doesn't belong to the current era.
Some romanticize them, some makes them into frightening beings while some fantasize them.
What is real? And what is fiction?
Romance can only happens through the eyes of others, Horror happens when fear is felt and fantasy occurs when we imagine them.
In a wide ballroom where marbled floor and columns stand glistens at the moon's shine at night, sounds a slow and solemn Melody from a lone violin.
Two figure, waltz as they dance in endless time.
One warm, one cold.
One Woman, One man.
But in their eyes, there is only a lone figure of what's in front of them.
Soon the once unblemished skin was punctured till it overflowed with sweet blood. Tears and blood mixes as the Man's embrace gives more strength enough to crush the woman in his arms.
Warm feeble hands stroke the man's head as if placating him and saying that everything is fine.
With the last drop of her blood, the woman's strength left her. And with her last breath, she whispered a soft yet stabbing farewell in the heart to her once lover and fell into deep sleep.
