Midnight Hour

Breathing...I hear breathing. Slow, soft and calm. It is asleep. The babe is asleep. I walk closer, just one more step, to see the child. To see its gentle stir of dreams, to see its small, fragile form. To see the weakness of its race. It fails to create any emotion within me, I will destroy it when I leave.

I walk silently out into the darkened hall, no windows to light the passage, no lights. Just darkness, my comfort...my refuge. The one thing to bring me calm, to bring me peace.

Noise ahead of me, the door across the way has opened. I do not move for I cannot be seen. A girl, developed and of age, she stops in the doorway, the light from her window surrounds her. She seems to glow, fire from her hair, a pale light off her fair skin. But her eyes, in the darkness they shine, sea-green. They stare straight at me, as if she could see me. Impossible! Her race never sees one such as me. Never, they do not have the ability nor the capacity to see my kind. I am nothing but a shadow to them in the darkness, the chill up their spine. I am the presense they feel alone in the black of night that creates the fear within. We are never seen.

But she does not move, her eyes stare straight into mine. A peculiar look upon her face, not fear nor surprise, merely a sense of knowing. How could this be? This insignificant little nothing can see me! How dare it! Next it will smile, it will bring out my rath. It will pay with its glimmering eyes.

She did not smile, she bowed her head slightly to me. A rather respectful act, surprising for her kind. She then turns and re-enters her room, closing the door between us. Keeping the look upon her face, as if she knows why I am here. But how could she?

I stand up tall and shake myself from my momentary distraction. I have a reason for being here, though I will alter it slightly. I enter the room to the right, the door remaining closed as I approach the two forms lying in their bed. I ignore the door of the girl opening as I pull out my scythe. I strike the male first, quickly his soul pours from the wound. I collect it, hearing her door close moments later. I turn to the female and take hers as well. They lay silent, peaceful, like an infant.

I enter the hall, the girl's door is closed. I can feel her presense standing behind it, strange is the feeling within me. I turn to the left and enter the room of the babe. The form is beneath the cloth unmoving. I strike but no soul flows from the cut. I strike again, the same.

I pull off the blanket and stare at a small stuffed bear. I smile and feel no anger fill me. Strange this feeling, this warmth. She took the child, she knew. Amusing this young woman is. She can keep her prize, a gift never given. Its soul is not worth much, but hers; I do not want it. Peculiar this feeling she creates in me. Perhaps I shall return one night. Perhaps...