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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1391718-The-Black-Rose
Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Fantasy · #1391718
My entry for "The Resurrected Stake & Garlic Contest" of jan/feb 08.
The winds were cold and the moon had taken over the dark skies. The stars were all missing from their constellations turning the sky bare. And the wolves howled as they searched for their meals near the dense pines. Fear filled the air and mortals fled for their havens. The streets of the town lied naked with only the dead leaves floating around. The full moon stood on top of the cursed hill near the cemetery. The night brought sprits of unrest into our realms. No law of Gaia could explain the demons which rose into the streets with the moon. Nothing was safe from the world of darkness and nothing brought the mind to ease.

In the old bar where no one came, there was a stranger seated. He was tall with brown skin; with a light beard complimenting his skin tone. His umbered hairs were shabbily set over his head; some of which even covered his hazel eyes. His strange accent made it difficult for anyone to perceive his origin. He wore a leather jacket with a torn shirt underneath and a pair of black jeans which too was torn in some places. He heavy boots were rested under the railing of the bar, as he sat on the corner stool. He asked for some more wine which he couldn’t affort but as money being the omnipotent force, he was denied. He sat there waiting for someone, who could buy him a drink. Not caring for the things around him, he sat there engrossed within his thoughts.

Minutes passed into hours but no one came. The bar tender saw the time and was petrified. He rushed towards the stranger and asked him to leave. The stranger agreed and was left into the dark night but he didn’t care. Seeing the full moon brought a smile on his face. He had not seen such a sight in ages now.
“Back in the cold, now where?” he asked himself.
While he gazed at the dark ally in front of the bar. He moved towards the town hall, which stood tall at the end to the road. With no money in his pocket and no one to call his friend, that was the only place he could spend the night.

While he walked down the wet road, he was not able to understand this silence which had covered the town. He was passing by the bakery at the corner of the street when a beautiful girl bumped into him from the other side. They both fell down with the girl on top of him. The cold wind gently moved her silken locks of dark hair away from her silent face. If the moon was missing then there might have not been a more beautiful sight than the face of that fair maiden.

Her eyes were wet with tears and fear had kissed her face dull. She got up to run again but the stranger held her by her arm. He asked her
“Why do you run, my angel”.
She in a frightened voice said that the demons were coming.
The stranger was shocked, he had no idea what demons stood for these people. Then in a crying tone the girl asked him to also run for his life. He couldn’t disagree someone with such a beautiful face and began to run.

They saw shadows play behind their footsteps, as if it were an cat and mouse chase. The shadows jumped from one building to another, seeking the victims for the night. The two ran from smelly allies to the water logged paths. The chase was on and the stranger was now mesmerized with the angel who now was holding his hand, pulling him, guiding him through those deserted paths of that dark town. The water splashed and sweat went down her white cheek which at every instance took his breath away.

Life could never grant someone so much beauty he thought. Her tears were like diamonds for him, when they ran. They hid near a dump near an old garage, now out of breath, she tried to console herself that everything was going to be alright but she knew that it was not so.

The stranger offered her a napkin which she gladly took to wipe her sweat. He asked her
“What is the thing from which we run?”.
She sat there silently for a moment and then spoke in a trembling voice:
“It’s the demons !!!
The undead which suck the blood of humans. Neither the priest could stop these two demons. I don’t wish to die…. Not so soon; not yet”
Then she began to cry again. The stranger then politely asked her the reason for her to be out on the streets when she knows of the presence of these monsters. While weeping she says,
“They broke my house. These demons once feed on the blood of anyone on the streets but now search for young maidens, like me. They play with them, before killing them. I am scared.”
And then she hugs the stranger.

The only thing the stranger could do was to hold her tight. Try to console her. He told her to have same hope. He said that he shall try his best to protect her. But that couldn’t stop her from crying. He couldn’t wish to do anything but have his angel next to her. In order for her stop crying, he asks her name. The reply came as Irene.
He said “Oh the peace of my heart. Sorry I am Khwaja”.
She had never heard such a name but couldn’t do anything but cry.

They waited there for some time. Irene told him about the demons which were the sons of the great town scholar. They had gone to another town to pursue their studies but brought back the curse of the fangs with them. Earlier they too were scared but then their need for blood became their greed. Their father tried to stop them but they killed him too. They then began rampaging over the lives of the town people. No night was safe with them around. Hours passed with no signs of the vampires.

They had just started to believe that they were safe. But it was not so, with just an hour left for the dawn, one of the cursed beast showed up. He laughed over the two, he asked the stranger to leave the girl and be spared with his life for once. But Khwaja disagreed; he told them that she was not just flesh and blood. But a person of thoughts and soul. Laughter not filled the garage. Then with a swift wind, the other vampire showed up. He toke hold of Irene and toke her towards his brother.

The two vampires looked like men in their early twenties. With dirty cloths and curled hairs, they stood there in the middle of the garage. The rusty cars around complimented their rusty looks. They looked as though they were physically weak but they were vampires of strong powers. They wore ordinary cloths and had no striking features besides there pointy ears and those sharp fangs. Without the fans and pointy ears they would have looked like any other young and poor student.

Khwaja was surprised to see Irene in with them. He said
“You know that you have been cursed with an eternity of pain and suffering, but why do you cause pain to the people who once loved you. Why do you misuse the powers which you have gained? This is not what powers are about.”
Those words were followed by laughter. The vampire holding Irene said:
“Who are you to question our actions? We are the ones who now rules these dark nights. Dare not to challenge us. Your death could be more painful then the limits of the word pain itself.”
Then the second spoke
“Yeah, you fool. It’s us how now are on top of the food chain. We sold our souls, for the infinite power of the undead. We are the supreme and the final form of what evolution could create. It’s Homo-Excelsior who shall rule over the weak and foolish humans now.”
There was a smile on Khwaja’s face on hearing those words. One of the vampires saw this and asked angrily
“Are you not afraid of death? Are you not afraid that we shall tear your flesh with our bare hand and devour your blood? Or is it that you are too foolish to not see that your end is near.”

Khwaja now in a bold tone said “Yes; it is right that I don’t fear death. But it is not me who is foolishly not seeing death. It’s you, who shall embarrass death within moment. Evolution is a necessary evil; you say that you are perfect. The best among the best, the ones supreme over the food chain but you are wrong. The evolution has taken a step further. Do you wish to see your doom or will you leave my angel and the rest of the town alone.”

The vampires became angry and said
“You fool what can you do to kill us; there is nothing stronger than a vampire”.
Khwaja replied “Indeed there is nothing stronger than a vampire but the vampires too have evolved. You have evolved from humans and feed on their blood, but know that I have evolved from a vampire and my thirst is fulfilled by the blood of the vampires.”
Panic struck on the faces of the vampires. Then with a sharp cry, Khwaja transformed into something unknown. His eyes were now bloody red; his physique became more muscular, and his hairs were as dark as the finest charcoal.

He pulled out a weapon of strange form. Its blade was red with strange inscriptions all over it. It ran to the length of a pike but seemed as though it was sword. It carried a heavy chain at the end with spikes embedded all over it. He held it in his right hand as he stood there in a grand posture. Irene who had witnessed this transformation had now fainted in fear and the trauma. The two vampires were left baffled after seeing the transformation. They had felt fear after a long time now. They wished to flee but their pride didn’t allow that. They charged toward him, but then he swung his blade from which came smaller blades held by chains like knives.

The blades passed through the two and blood flew in all directions. The strike had sliced the two into pieces. Their remains fell on the ground like the bread crumbs, which are fed to the birds. Blood flew like water into the nearby drain. Khwaja was now sad. He had killed someone whom he didn’t want to.
When Irene woke up, she saw that the sun was now over her head. Everything was as it was before she had fainted, but the only difference was Khwaja was now missing. Then she found a small note lying next to a black rose. It read:
“Love is a condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own. And I can’t see you again in tears by my race. I shall hold the rosary of your lips and give my black heart to you.”

Irena held the rose close to her heart and with wet eyes and only speaks “Thank you”.

© Copyright 2008 Fittizo Lettore (fittizo at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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