A Vampire's Lament

February 26, 2009
By Iris_Chiyoko BRONZE, Irene, South Dakota
Iris_Chiyoko BRONZE, Irene, South Dakota
4 articles 0 photos 1 comment

Through the shadows two glistening red eyes gazed upward at the full circle of the hunters' moon. Long silver hair blew lightly in the breeze catching the flow of the moon making her fair hair shimmer like the stars above. Her face, radiating, seemed to be carved out of white marble, pale and beautiful. A raven black cloak, matching that of the night sky, draped over her shoulders and her slender marble legs were pulled to her chest as her chin rested upon them.

The red gems that are her eyes, watched the reflection of the moon sway softly in the deep crystal blue water of the lake she sat by. The tree branches rocked back and forth creating a bell like noise from the leaves as they danced. Surrounding her was an orchestra of soft chimes. The forest was calm and musical, the forest was welcoming, and the forest was her home and her grave.

She stretched out her marble legs into the crystal water and leaned back using her arms as a support. She then began to sing in a velvety voice, sad and sweet, the trees accompanied her with their orchestra. As she gazed out over the lake the moon's reflection changed into one oh so familiar. A boy with raven hair that cascaded down his face and shoulders stared into her eyes, crimson meeting deep blue. His right arm extended to her, reaching for her, and she leaned forward stretching her arm out to his with pleading eyes.

As it seemed the two would grasp each other, a lone leaf fell onto his reflection and he vanished as silently as he appeared. A single tear slid down her pale face, the only one she loved, the only one who could understand her and accept her as she was, died because of what she was.

As she sat there silent tears rolling down her face, she could hear the yelling of the people that came for her. The people of the Vatican who were the ones that killed him because he protected her. From her lips in a grief filled voice she spoke,
'There is a time for every vampire, when eternity becomes unbearable. The thought of living in the shadows, feeding in the darkness, and only to have yourself as company, it truly is a hollow existence. I pity the next fool who shall believe immortality is a good idea until he learns that he shall be spending it alone, and as for me, I shall sleep and welcome it happily.'

Then a blessed dagger pierced her heart from behind; she blew away in the cradling wind and into the arms of her love.

The author's comments:
I wrote this a few years ago for my freshman year scrap book, and when I started it I was rather unsure. However, when I finished it and recieved great compliments about it I was really happy.

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