*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1539252-A-Vampyres-Lament
Rated: XGC · Novel · Gothic · #1539252
Work in progress...a tale of a young vampyre and her lover, a lycan.
The streets were black...

Candles cold.....


But "sleep" was not the word for this....
...not the night I came home...




The constant dripping of the bathroom sink wore at my patience
From its safe distance across the hall.

The aloneness in this room was maddening.

I crouched,
Perilously perched on the hair-thin railing of the abandoned apartment flat.
Rain fell like guilt,
Slithering down my naked arms; working its way into my soul.

I was watching.
Waiting.
Behind me a small pile of old blankets and a candle at half-wick.

This was my makeshift abode.

This particular port in Germany was all but abandoned,
Leaving room for the rats and untouchables to slink and scurry
-without bother.

That’s what I am...Untouchable.

Yet even here I am not welcome.
A Vampyre has no place to call home.
~o~




I remember the change...
but even though in form I was,
by his love I was not

-          not until he left...
-          
Three long years
-happy years-
he had kept me:
marvelous in inhumanity
yet never suffering the grotesque reality of a true vampyre.
In those days I was still a changeling at heart.

He taught me to feed,
to hide,
to live;

most of all he taught me to love.


He found me broken,
and with the magic only a god could possess
he stitched back together my broken skin,

my tattered humanity he exchanged with immortality.


His name still sent chills down my spine
-a whisper in my ear from his dead breath:

Christoph De Marc


Do not be fooled,
this is not another vampyric love story;
no tragedy befalls the heroine due to a jealous queen
(how I wish it had been so).
It is the opposite:
a twist and turn of royalty and servitude,
smooth naked skin and course fur,
as different as the dark of night and the sunrise,
yet,
together,
more beautiful.



Christoph was a lycan.
~o~


In the alley below an old rusty trash can rattled and onto its side;
my eyes darted to the source of the sound: an old man
dripping in rubbish
and rags
emerged with a drunken stagger.

::How is it that these people can't afford food for their own bellies
but always alcohol seems to drip from them?::

Shaking my head
I decided I had given enough thought to his stomach
...it was time to think of mine.

With delicate silence I fell upon him,
slender bone-white fingers gripping the nape of his neck.
Beneath my chokehold I could feel his still-strong pulse pumping in anticipation.

"Don't worry,"
I cooed,
moving closer to his warm flesh,
"your suffering will be over soon..."

He smelled of dirt and old age,
his skin withered and cracked
like folded leather.

::This is defiantly going to be no feast for kings...::
I thought bitterly.

I unsheathed my fangs from the hot wetness of my crimson lips
sunk them deep into his aged throat,
blood pouring into my mouth
as I tasted the sweet warmth of rum
and bitter adrenaline.

The old man fought heartedly
at first
but soon his knees dried of their life-blood
buckled in death.
His heart was the last to go,
it always is,
beating on, even in the last hopeless moments
as your body lies on the ground drained of everything else.

::My heart died ages ago…so why haven’t I been allowed to die?::

Full of the old mans blood I took my sorrows and retired to my bed of rags,
Peeling from my chest and legs an old tank to and tattered jeans.

I laid back
Stretched out,
Arching my back like twisted feline
Letting out a sigh of relief.

The night was over;
For twelve hours I could retire
Not worry of my own disgraceful existence.

At last the monster could sleep…
~o~


He always met me here,
in my dreams:

hot skin,
flowing hair and piercing eyes-
forever safe in this haven;
the only place I wasn’t grotesque.

Here,
always lamenting
-apologizing-
over creating me in such a dark image;
stealing away my beautiful fragility and short life.

He would apologize
...apologize
and we would make up the way all good couples do.

He appeared now,
his feet light on the landing of my doorway.
He looked at me,
melting me with his onyx-embedded eyes.

I hate the guilt they reflect
...the same guilt now mirrored in my eyes.

I sat up,
acknowledging his presence,
as I pulled my legs up beneath me
giving me just enough height to meet his lips as he bent,
placing strong hands on my bare shoulders.

"Welcome home..."
~o~




He shuddered at the touch of my skin,
Sometimes,
I was amazed not to see steam rise from his touch.
It was such a difference,
My ice cold body…
His blood-rich warmth.

His burning hands slid down my arms,
Taking with them the straps of my gown.

Gentle lips brushed my cheek,
My neck
Collar bone
Breast.

::oh to never wake up::

My intricate fingers broke through his button shirt,
Revealing perfect flesh,
Beneath.

How I longed for him.

In my ear his hot breath whispered dirty secrets for only us to know,
His hands explored dips and curves in my body,

Like a desperate man in the desert…
Searching for someplace moist.

He had traveled this way many times before,
His hands easily finding,
Teasing,
A small gather of nerves and flesh,

Breath,
Growing rapid,

Broken.

Finally.
Hands slowly inching down my last covering.
Fingers glistening wet in the moonlight.

Eyes red with hunger.

Tension.

Stronger as I longed for his blood.

His pulse beating feverishly just below the surface of his rugged skin.

As he sunk into me I laid my head back,
Arching my back,
Pressing shoulders,

Moan of desire,
Restraint.

Teeth flashed beneath my quivering lips,
Eyes white,

Thrill of the hunt.

Like a merciless sea his body crashed into mine,
More violent each time we rose and fell.

Fingers,
Once resting,
Caressing his broad shoulders,
Now, clawing-
Digging,
Scraping down his back.

My body began to panic,
Writhe,
Trying to break free,
Out from under his weight.

His hand caught my wrists,
Pinning them above my head.

Other hand grasping my face,
Turning it back and forth,
Examining,

Like a killer with his trophy fuck.

He tilted my jaw back,
Running his wet sandpaper tongue up my jaw line,
Heavy breath fogging against my flush cheek.

He came to my ear,
Stopped,
All motion,
Leaving us on the brink of the fall.

He whispered,
Deviantly,
“You like the way this feels, baby?”

Before I had time to answer he plunged into me,
More forcefully than the entire night.
Without warning my teeth sank deep into his shoulder,
Screaming,
Pain,

Pleasure.

At that moment we were one.
I held on tight,
Allowed myself to fall apart,
His arms holding all my pieces together.

He fell from me to his side,
Heaving for breath,
Glistening in perspiration.

I rolled to my side,
Facing him,
Pulled my knees to my chest,
Heart pounding against my bare thighs.

“I love you”
he whispered

“You only say that when we have sex…”
I smirked.

“DO NOT!”
he argued,
raising his torso in mock offence.

“Do too…”
I pouted.

He pounced,
Rolling us onto the floor,
Tickling me relentlessly,
Couldn’t breath,
Gasping for air.

“I love you, too!”
I surrendered,
Giggling,
Pushing him off.

“oh…”                               

                                                                                                                        “Oh no…”

“What?”
he whispered,
voice hollow.

“Oh noooo…”
I whimpered,
    Tears pouring like rain.

“Baby?
What is it?”
His hand reached out,
Missed my arm,
Face contorting,
Going blurry.

“You’re leaving again…”
I cried.

“No, baby
NO!
I’ll never leave…
I love you.”

“You’re leaving…
leaving…
leaving…..”

                                        I closed my eyes,
                                  Tight,

                            Emptiness…

                    Filled our haven,

            Stole me away.

        Back to my world,
with no soul.
~o~

The sun broke through the chinks in the blinds,
Seagulls screeched,
Diving-
         In and out
Searching for food in the murky port-waters.

It was only noon as far as I could tell,
I had woken early,
         …again.

With a sigh I rolled over,
Wrapping myself in my arms,
But they ached to hold him…
How I missed him…

Terribly.

~o~

The water still ran in the apartment,
The rusty faucet groaned in detest,
Giving way to cool, crisp water.

I splashed my face and ran my hands through my hair.

::why when I wake from these dreams do I feel that they were real?
That he is still alive?

I know he isn’t…
…I watched him die::

With a quick rush I pulled back the shower curtain,
Turned on the water,

“Gross…”
I muttered to myself,
Side-stepping the cockroach scurrying away from the wetness.

I stepped in,
Laying my head back,
Letting the water drown my face.

::need to clear my head::

The shower steamed off my grubby skin,
Washing the blood of my kill,
From my lips,
         My neck…
                   Arms…

::STOP IT!::
I scolded myself,
                            Opening my eyes,
Stopping my daydream,

Scrubbing harshly at the areas that had just dreamt of his gentle touch.

The pipes rattled to a halt,
Draining of all liquid,

I carefully stepped from the shower,
Walking back to my room,
Towel in hand.

A foul voice came from the dark corner of my room,
“Hello there…”

I shrieked,
Wrapping the towel sloppily around my damp body,
Swiveling to meet gaze with my intruder.

“What?”
I gasped,
“Why are you here, Marc?”

“Please, do call me ‘Marcus De Carabus’…sounds much more civilized…”
he sneered.

“Precisely why I refuse to call you such…”
I sighed in irritation.
Letting down my guard.

Marcus was too much of a coward to hurt me
…much

“Your anything but civil…”
I stated,
Blankly.

“Aw…”
he clucked his tongue in disapproval,
“tisk-tisk, love…you needn’t be so harsh…”
he said,
standing,
circling me,
his hand brushing against my lower back.

I twisted in disgust,
“Don’t touch me…”
I hissed.

“It’s so hard not to, though…
Your so beautiful…my little creation.”
His hand grazed my cheek.

“Stop it!”
I yelled,
Slapping his hands away.
“What do you want?!”

His hands shoved me against the wall,
Pinning my shoulders.

I dropped my towel in shock.

“You…”
he hissed,
breathing heavily into my ear.
“I want you, Belle,
         …desperately…”

“Don’t call me that…
         …you pig…”
I wimpered,
Struggling to wrench from his grip.

“Besides,”
he continued,
Unaffected,
“after an enterance like that you practically owe me…
                   …at least a small favor…”
he whispered,
trailing a finger down my chest,
fangs grazing my neck,
threatening to sink in.

“Get off!”
I ordered.

“But, Belle…
         …I own you…
I MADE YOU!”

“STOP CALLING E THAT!
Im not your ‘Belle’ and you may have made me but you left me alone and confused…
Fuck you Marc!
FUCK YOU!”
I screamed,
Spitting in his face,
Finally breaking free from his grasp.

His laugh was menacing,
“that’s what I was asking you for, doll…
you know your temper only turns me on to you more…”

“Is that why you came? To try, once again, to get in my pants…
         …and fail?”

“I wouldn’t have to ‘get into’ anything, love, your completely nude…”
he chuckled.

“What do you want?!?!”
I shrieked.

“HUSH!”
he ordered.
Suddenly angry.
His taunting mood faded.
“I came for your beast…
…where is the monster?”
he glance around.

“Monster?”
I shouted,
My voice breaking in anger.
“That ‘monster’ was your henchman, until he fell in love with me…
That ‘Monster” taught me the ways of a vampyre when you abandoned your “creation”
That ‘MONSTER’ IS DEAD!
AND YOU KNOW IT!
You filthy fuck…
YOU MADE ME KILL HIM!!!”
I screamed,
Growing in intensity,
More and more tears blurring my eyes.

His head flew back and emitted a laugh so cruel my stomach churned,
“Good…
         …good.
That’s all I needed to know.”

“To see me suffer?”
I wimpered.

“To see if you still loved him…
         …still had a heart.”
He said calmly,
Placing his hand on my shoulder.

“I do not…”
I stated,
Showing no emotion for those brief seconds.

“You do…”
he corrected,
catching my eye.

“Why do you care?”
I shot back.

“You’ll see…
                   …you’ll see…”
he smiled,
at some inside joke with himself.
“just wanted to make sure you would still appreciate it…”

With that he was gone.

::He makes my skin crawl…::

…but something,
in the end…
was almost…

sweet?

~o~

I stepped out on the balcony for a cigarette,

What?
You’re shocked?

Vampyres don’t burn in the sun

Silly mortal…

I guess I should have explained this ages ago.

The textbook reference ‘vampire’ is a fake.

We don’t burn in the sun,
Crosses don’t ward us off.

A wooden stake through the heart will kill us,
But a knife or a bullet will do the trick, too.

Allow me to explain…

There is basis for these myths,
Mortals just elaborated on them for their own benefit.

Each vampyre has one item they cannot be around,
It is unique,
Like a fingerprint…

A deadly, deadly fingerprint…



Something that,
                      Before the change,
They loved to the point of obsession…

In the 1800s many were devout in their religious practices,
This devotion led to an absolute loathing of anything holy by any changeling:

An anathema to crucifixes.

Our eyes are extreamly sensitive to light,

(We are amazing hunters at night)

So,
Before the days of sunglasses most vampyres avoided the sun entirely.

I’m not sure where the stake through the heart idea came from,

Perhaps,
a crazed husband found his adulterous wife in the arms of one of our kind?

However,
The thought of killing a vampyre while it sleeps is logical.

We have cat-like reflexes…
No, better then cat-like…
Things move in practically slow motion for us,
The chemical change-
It opens up our observation to optimum performance.

Hearing is perfect,
Movements controlled,
Strong.

Killing us in our sleep is a mortals best shot.

My personal anathema?
Ha!

…that is a vampyre’s best kept secret

I’ll tell you one thing,
It was almost rock music…
Thank god-
If he still exists for me…
I’m not stuck listening to country right now…
Thank…
Whoever.

What scares me about Marcus is that,
Being my creator…
And a piss poor one, at that…
He knows everything about me,
Including my anathema.

His visit today was more then disturbing…

What was he up to this time?

~o~

“Good morning, Meg…”

“Woah! Hello…wh-what are you doing here?”
I stammered.

His thin frame lanked in the balcony doorway,
Hair matted and tangled from a hard days work.
“Don’t be so shocked…
            I’m dropping off food…
Went…
Erm…
Grocery? Shopping…”
He gripped for words.

I laughed,
“You don’t have to do that, Tyler…”

“Yeah I did…orders from the boss,
they still stand,
          …even in his absence…
help me carry them in?”

“Okay.”
I said,
Clapping my hands together,
“Let’s do this…”

The limp weight still bothers me sometimes…
“So…
where is our fine cuisine from today, Ty?”

“Netherlands…
        …except this one…I think she was visiting from America.”

“This guy’s a big lug…”
I groaned,
Struggling beneath his weight.

“Here,
I’ll help.”
He said
Grabbing the man around the waist as much as he could.

“Why such a big one?”
I complained.

“More blood,
less ‘shopping’ .”
he explained.

“All this blood will go thick before I am done…”

Tyler beamed,
“Not now…”

“What do you mean?”
I looked at him quizzically.

“Let’s finish this,
          …then I’ll show you.”

“Oh….kay?”
I questioned.

When the last corpse laid across the apartment floor I had to ask-
“Why so gentle with the dead, Ty?
                      …you never were before.”

“ ‘Cuz they aren’t dead…”
He said coolly,
A smile spreading across his face.

“WHAT?!”
I shrieked,
Glancing from body to body,
Checking for any movement or sign of life.

“Come here,
        …I’ll show you…”
he grinned smugly to himself,
crouching by his black duffel bag on the balcony.

I sat down beside him,
Crossing my legs.
“Alright genius, whatcha got for me today?”

From his bag he pulled a small vile of neon-bright liquid and held it to the light,
It changed in color,
  From green,
      To purple,
          To red…

“What is that?”
I gasped,
Reaching out to take it.

“No, no…”
he scolded,
pulling it out of reach,
“it’s my own little chemical masterpiece…
                …perfectly safe…
…at least in small doses…”

I raised my eyebrow in interest.

“Just before the hunt you dip both fangs into this vile,
When you bite the victim it gets in their bloodstream,
…puts them in a wakeless coma”
he smiled.

“I thought they were still strangely warm for being brought from so far away…
but, why did I feel no heartbeat?”
I questioned.

“The heart doesn’t beat…
                      they are in a suspension right above death,
they feel nothing,
hear nothing…
…lifeless.”
He explained.



“If there is no heartbeat the blood will go sour…
                …the blood has to move…”
I argued.

“The chemical keeps the blood flowing…
            the benefit,
warm,
    fresh blood,
anytime you want it.”
His voice rose in a salesman-like tone.

“But what about the chemical?
Wouldn’t it contaminate the blood?”
I asked.

“A simple mixture of bio-carbons and hydro-solutions…
                            …something that has no effect on you.”

“Wow,
gotta hand it to ya, Ty…
you’re a genius.”
I said,
Shaking my head in amazement.

As I reached out to take it he pulled it away again.
“Ah ah ah…”
he taunted,
“first things, first.”

I crossed my arms in stubborn protest.
“Whaaaat?”

“How is it used?”

“On my fangs…”

“How much?”

“Three table spoons.”
I said sarcastically.

“WRONG!”

“I know! ...I know…just dip both into it…”


“Better…”
he sighed.

“Why so uptight? It can’t harm me.”

“In small doses, no
    but I haven’t tested it fully…
              you have to be careful,
                      use it sparingly.”
He said seriously.
“I can’t have you getting sick…
                    …or dying off…
                              …the boss would kill me.”

“Christoph was your friend, Tyler…not your boss…
                …he always told you that.”

“He is my friend…
          but, first, he is my boss.
He placed you in my keep…”
He stated,
“…no matter how much a pain you may be.”

I laughed,
“I try…”

“You succeed…with flying colors!”
he said flailing his arms in hilarity.

“Good…”
I mused,
“Now…give me that concoction…”

“One more thing…”
He pulled it from my reach once again.

“Yeah?”

“This is the most important…”

“mmmhmm?”

        “No, really…
                  detrimental…”

      “Okay…”
                          “The most important thing…”

                  “I understand…”

“Above all else…”

                          “OH MY GOD, TY! WHAT IS IT?!?!”

“…you still love him?”

Tears filled my eyes,
Throat burning,
I nodded.

“I see…”
Tyler said,
Softly,
Lowering his eyes.

“Always…”
I whispered.

“Good…
              good.”
He comforted,
Leaning close,
Placing the vile in my hand,
“sometimes…
          a lot of the time…
love brings the dead a second life…”

“Only in my dreams…”
I sulked.

“So I’ve heard…”
he smirked,
“I was here earlier…
            you were…
                  …erm…
                          asleep.”
He blushed.

I smiled through the tears,
Choking back a small laugh,
“…sorry”

“No, no…
            no bother…”
he said,
    “just keep your hopes up…
he loves you so much even the devil himself couldn’t hold him back from you
…for too long.”

“Hope you’re right…”

“Well,
I have to go…
    Until tomorrow?”

“mmhmm…tomorrow”
I agreed.

Glancing back over his shoulder one last time he thought,
::If only these complications were the devil himself…::

~o~

“What a lovely tea party!”
I exclaimed in mock humor.

The girls arm fell limp from my grasp,
It was almost sick how much fun I had posing these life-sized rag dolls,
These zombie mannequins.

The big man had the tiny Japanese-American bent over,
in comical sexual connotation.

The others,
                Placed in a circle around them,
Slumped forward to keep themselves upright.

“Ugh…I need real friends…”
I moaned at my own patheticness,
Pushing one over with my foot,
Wiggling my bare toes in the soft flesh of his cheek.

I giggled,
In dirty satisfaction.

This man was still alive…

Hee-hee.
::God. I’ve lost it…::

~o~

The phone rang loud,
Breaking the silence in the dark chamber;
Light trickled in from a small hole in the ceiling.

A strong hand grasped the old phones body,
Raising it,

“Hello?”
The voice was groggy from lack of use,
Boiling in anticipation.

                   “Checked on her…”
                   The voice from the other line spoke quickly.

“Does she?”

                   “Yes.”

“Any others?”

                   “Don’t think so…”

“Good.”
He breathed in relief.

                   “I’m working as fast as I can, boss…”

“Please don’t call me that.”

                   “You’ll be out soon if I have anything to do with it.”

“Just keep an eye on the girl…”

                   “Can do.”

“Thanks.”

                   “Bye.”

                             The phone line died,
                             Tyler hung the receiver on the hook,
                             Slipping quickly from the phone booth.

                             His eyes shifted side to side.

This was dangerous work…
And lying to her was becoming difficult.

~o~

Night finally fell as I slipped out my window,
Down to the alley.

::I’m so tired…tonight I am forcing myself to sleep::

“Maybe a bit of Ty’s potion…”
I joked quietly with myself.

These were the nights I loved to pretend…

Cool,
Dark nights.

With a glowing full moon.

                A night like my first night…
                  A night like forever…

Slinking shadow to shadow,
      Pretending he was right behind me;
                Eyes glowing in approval,
                        Lips pulled back in satisfied smile.

                            These were the nights I wasn’t alone.

                        I was back on the London streets,
          Dodging night life mortals-
                  Hiding from their curious eyes.

I came to the abandoned graveyard that held him prisoner,
Slowing to a stride.
Passing headstones and tombs,
Glancing at their antiqued beauty;
                                  Beneath lying rotten stench.

Life is funny…everyone covers their skeletons with beauty.

His crypt rose from over the hill as I walked cautiously down the slope.

Placing my hand on its cool marble side,
Closing my eyes,
Fingers delicately tracing over his name etched in stone.
“Hello Christoph…”

I stood for a moment,
To hear him speak.
Greeted only by a chilled wind that tossed my hair playfully.

::Good enough…that’s my invitation::

I slid my fingertips into the crack of the crypt’s door and pulled-
                  It only budged a little.

“Damnit…”

Setting my feet farther apart,
Bending a bit for leverage,
Pulling again-
                  This time it moved a little bit more.

“Almost…”

I turned,
Pressing my back against the tomb,
Both hands and the sole of my sneaker against the inside of the tomb door-
                  It opened enough for me to squeeze in.

Inside it was dark,
The dust still hadn’t settled from his burial-
                    It was as if it was in constant movement…

From the pocket of my jeans I pulled out my zippo,
Flicked it open.

The gas burned quietly,
              Low hum,
As the orange light flickered off the uneven walls.

I reached up,
Lighting a small candle I had shoved between two stones near the ceiling.

Now,
At least I could see a little better-
        Without using much energy.

I pressed my lips to the rough stone,
His quiet body lying just beyond.

Turning,
I leaned my head back against him and sunk to the floor.
Speaking to him as if he were still alive.
As if we were the best of friends-
              Lovers.
Brought together again by the same fate that separated them ages ago.

“Marcus visited the apartment flat today, my love…
He is so depraved!
You know when he showed up?
Just as I was out of the shower!”
I related to him in a soft, pillow-talk voice.

“Tyler visited today, too. He really is a genius, baby.
He discovered a way to keep storage victims alive until feeding.
He misses you terribly…
-I don’t think he has accepted your death yet…
…it’s difficult for me to accept, too…”
My voice broke,
To my hands I surrendered my miserable face.

“I love you, Christoph…
I miss you.
                                …terribly.”
I sobbed.
Muffled by clammy hands.
“Why didn’t you take me with you?
Taken me instead?
Oh, that you could live…
…That I had died

                  I feel dead without you...”

I sat there in the darkness for a long time,
Writhing in despair.
Longing for his dead bones to reach from their resting place,
Wrap me in his embrace.

A shadow in the moonlight passed.
I jumped to my feet,
“Marcus…” I hissed.

Quietly I crept to the crack in the door,
Opening to the cold night air.
I looked around-
        Nobody…

Slipping from the crypt I turned back to say farewell.
“Take me soon, my love.
I’d rather be dead then in this world alone…”

From the dark side of the marble wall,
So soft that she couldn’t hear,
“soon…
soon you will be reunited.” 

~o~

“What’s that?”
a shaky voice whispered,
as the sound of the crypt sealing shook the dead silence.

“A vampire, oOooooOOoOOoo…”
taunted a deeper voice.

“Oh! Shut up!”
the girls voice chortled.

“GET OUT OF HERE!”
I shouted at the faceless spies.

“She’s no vampire, she’s a midnight necrophiliac!”
the girls giggled.

I sneered in disgust,
“Who are you? What brings you here?”

A young boy stood,
In mock bravery,
“Why…
        …most sacred immortal…
                                …or midnight fetishist…
It is Friday the thirteenth,
Whilst thou not share with us thy humble yard of graves?”




“No! Get down! Justin!
Stop it!”
She scolded,
A hand gripping tightly,
Tugging at his wrist.

I rolled my eyes,
Only more ‘adventurous’ teenagers from across the port…
Seeking something dark in this forsaken land.
Searching for that ghost,
Or beast,
That drove hundreds from their homes.

The only answer,
Something that reeked in the air-
            Poisoned the port waters,
            Wilted the flowers and contorted the trees:
Regret.

“You should leave…this is no place for children.”

“We are not children…”
The cowardly girl finally stood.

They were quite cute together,
He was young,
Robust.
Piercing eyes and an ego beyond his means.
She was soft,
Dark and cautious.
                        I instantly envied them for their young love,
                              Their time…short as it may be.

“OUT!”
I hissed again.

The girl gasped,
Jumping back.

The boy stood his ground.






“BE GONE!”
I screamed,
Fangs flashing,
          Sharp with rage,
          Hunger…
In the moonlight.

Fear suddenly filled his eyes,
And, taking her advice for the first time that night, he turned to run.

I followed them at a dizzying pace-
                          For them, at least.
I was rather bored,
A brisk nighttime walk.

Admiring the twists and turns of the muscles in their backs,
                    Legs,
As they hurdled away from me-
Fearing for their lives.

As he hoisted her over the quarantine wall- back to the city,
Jumping to safety behind her,
I slowed to a stop.

“Good…”
I nodded to myself,
“Alone again…
                  alone is what I do best…”

~o~

         “ARRGH!”
         The phone crashed against the wall just inches from Tyler’s face,
         Rattling to the floor.

                   “Boss?
                   M-master…
                   You must stay calm,
                   Patient-“

         “MY PATIENCE HAS WORN OUT! I CANNOT WAIT ANY LONGER!”

                             “We’re trying the best we can…”
                             Marcus said,
         apologetically.

         His focus shifted from Tyler to Marcus for a moment,
                   Tyler sighed in relief,
                   Picking up the projectile phone and placing it back on the stand.

         “YOU!
         YOU SHUT UP!
         I’M SICK OF YOU!!!
         KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF THE GIRL!
         IN FACT, DON’T EVEN GO NEAR HER AGAIN!!!”

                             “I-I was only testing her…”

         “YOU RISK REVEALING EVERYTHING!”
         He shouted hysterically,
         “AND TYLER!
         HURRY UP AND FIGURE THIS OUT!
         IT’S BEEN TOO LONG!”

                   “As fast as I can, Master…”

         “DO NOT call me that!”

                   “Sorry…”

         “She isn’t stupid,
                   too much time and she’ll figure this out…

         she will ruin what must be done if she finds out…
         DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!”

                   “Yes…”
                   Tyler mumbled,
                   Looking admonished.

         “MARCUS?!”

                             “Y-y-yes…
                                       understood…”

         “NOT ANOTHER STEP NEAR HER!”
         He ordered.

                             “Okay…”

         “GET OUT!”

With a start they slunk from the dark room,
Orders ready to be carried out.

~o~

PART TWO COMING SOON...
© Copyright 2009 Amberly Irish (amberlyirish at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1539252-A-Vampyres-Lament