April 7th, 2011
Journal of the Undead
April 7th, 2011
Pauline came to me today with the medications I had requested. We've never talked much over these twenty years she has been with me. Yet…we
are both comfortable in the silence. I
could see the shadow of fear in her eyes.
I have never presented so much of myself. But who better to show her I’m
dying than the me who is already dead.
I have been sending my meals back untouched, and my
little parlour trick of coughing blood has proven a worthy diversion. I hear them talking downstairs…they will be
surprised if I get to see another summer.
The warmth of the sunlight I welcome. Though the law
states I am condemned to exist in darkness, I renounced their way eons ago.
There is no need to live in shadow when even in light I can fool them. Folktales and myth do nothing for my faith.
It is only in my own power I truly believe.
His scent grows so strong now, the closer I move to my
sanctuary. The longing, so
intense…almost enough to make me believe the human I once was is alive and
well…warm, wet and waiting. He is in my
head always now. His voice, a constant.
But I must not listen…not yet. I hate myself that I am so
under his power. I've not yet been able to overtake him, and to think such
thoughts now…knowing he is close…waiting.
The night will come soon enough. I will be filled in a way only he can fill
me. I will be satiated. I will be held in arms more powerful than my own. He will punish me, over and over again and in
his wrath, I WILL be alive.
Fred Rutherford is prompting first person narrative today at Poetics. Join @PoeticalPsyche and the rest of the dVerse crew to take a stab...or a bite...if you prefer. It's dragons and vampires ruling my parlour lately....just going with the flow
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