Everyone Has An Angel - A Vampire Short Story
by Alex Evers
Everyone has an Angel, a guardian who watches over us. Here to fight our battles and to whisper from our hearts. We don't know what form they'll take. One day an old man - another a little girl.
The leaches of the devil, an almighty dictatorship of evil on earth portrayed in hideous manners are the vampire. Those bodies that never seem to come to light when someone's reported missing? They're not dead. They're not pillaged by the creatures that roam the soil, but instead reborn into a structure greater than that of man.
Consumed by venom that infects your molecular structure, chromosomes are distorted. It is then that hibernation begins. Cocooned in a womb of spun silk, suspended from a roof or beam, a new beginning is ready to commence. Upon waking all previous memories are erased. Nothing of sunsets, first kisses or lazy days gone by.
Her piercing pupils fixated on the skin above my shoulder, relinquishing my control and rooting me to the spot. Men just want to be so callous but in my dreams we're still screaming and running through the gardens.
All of the walls that they built in John's reign finally fall and all the houses they built for John finally fall the history behind them meant nothing at all. Her heated words arose discomfort in me as she turned to me with tears of blood running down the contours of her slender face. The pallor of her skin contrasted against the shadows that blurred around us as she looked at me.
Extending my hand to her, I pulled her from the cold severity of the floor to the heat of my body. Leaning my head round her neck and breathing heavily upon her sallow skin before whispering Angel, I do not know how long we'll last, we have barely just made it through our past. A shrill whistle of steaks piercing through the air lodging themselves into the pillars that stood around us, a baritone of men's voices reverberated through my ears as the whistle of steaks which flung from their wood and metal crossed contraptions.
Flaming torches suddenly illuminated the smirched glass surrounding us. The iridescent light flew through the air in a spiral of molten colour and hit the sheeted wooden cladding.
Flames engulfed the building and licked the wooden frame. Golden tones swirled round us in a whirlpool accentuating the hollows in her face. We'll meet again, I don't know where, I don't know when but I know we'll meet again, someday. I expected to see fear looking back at me. Instead I saw tranquility and acceptance.
She knew we were going to die again. Accepting our end, the beasts that turned against us. Mockery and torture of our kind was expected, but who are the real beasts? The ones that regurgitate life or the ones who end it.
I'm struggling for direction any ideas would be helpful.
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