artful_dodge
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Joined 5 years ago
artful_dodge
Posted nineteen pieces
Thinks of IF1
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I am cursed, and it is absolutely dreadful. I have acquired the moniker of "Nosferatu" and...
"And you're loving every moment of it Bart." Miranda broke in on my inner monologue.
"Miranda! Just because you can read my thoughts doesn't mean you should!"
"Yes it does, and even if I didn't want to, not only are you broadcasting, but everytime you make that face it means you're thinking about how depressed you are over your 'Dark Gift' like you didn't want it or something."
Miranda was my sire, and she didn't dress the part at all. Her hair was black, and her skin was pale of course, but she had a habit of wearing sweaters, and jeans, blue ones even! And I really wished she wouldn't call me by that human scrap of a name. "Bartholomule!"
"You're name's Bart. When I met you, you were Bart. When I bit you, you were Bart, and when some christian finally gets tired of this "tortured soul" bit and stakes your dumb ass, your shriveled corpse will lie in a casket buried beneath a headstone marked "Here lies Bart." She joked.
"You don't understand me!"
"Bart, I can read your mind. You're just upset because you thought being a vampire meant you could get in my pants. Nevermind that you could hypnotise any woman you want..."
"It's not the same and you know it!"
"Fine, fine..." She opened her mind to me, but only to show me what I looked like. My top hat was a little to the side, my rose colored glasses hung chicly low, but perhaps the cuff ruffles were a little much.
"Okay" I admitted "This is a little silly, it's just... I'm supernatural now, I feel like I should dress the part."
"Well, what's the part, bart? You know how many times the veneer has changed in the last 70 years alone? 60 years ago, we were dispicable girl eaters, 50 years ago, we were good looking girl eaters, 40 years ago, we ate, or were hippies... these days, we're sex symbols, and the girl eating has fallen by the wayside, and we supposedly kill eachother, and really most of it's nonsense. I sleep in a bed, in a dark room because the sun's too bright, and I burn really easily but it won't kill either of us... at least immediately. I'm faster, stronger, and I heal alot faster, but I'm not going to fly, or turn into a bat, or...
"or anything really fun, I know, but we're still damned, aren't we? I mean, you're 210 years old or something and you still look 35- 2, 28, ow." Miranda slapped my arm.
"Seriously, if you're worried about your soul, you've committed no special sin for which there isn't forgiveness. Although personally, it's been the end times since before I was born, so I kinda stopped worrying about it after the Berlin Wall fell."
"I still don't see how you don't believe in god when we're agents of the devil!"
"You ever meet the guy? My sire was a strange man I met in a spanish naval uniform after someone blew a hole in his ship along with the rest of the armada. He thanked god I didn't turn him over to the red coats. My point being immortality tends to dull spirituality... and that you should drop this 'tortured soul' act if only because it's whiny and annoying."
She dances and I watch. Her strawberry blonde pig tails bounce alluringly, while her ear bud headphones stay somehow lodged in peach colored lobes. Her round face is angelic. Her closed blue eyelids conceal grey eyes, but now I see only long black lashes. She bites her lower lip as if the music is arousing her and she needs someone...now. The deep black licorice color of her lips is left unperturbed by the assault. The clash against the purity of the rest of her skin is not wasted on me. Her pink (and entirely too short) shirt is stretched tight over her breasts, which only bounce ever so slightly with her gyrations. Her hips clad in bell bottomed blue jeans sway in that hypnotic fashion that puts me all too deeply into a trance.
But even as I catch myself glaring at the beauty, I'm forced to tilt my head forward and down slightly. Blink for a long moment as I chuckle at my own incompetence.
I step outside onto the porch for a moment and light a cigarette as I think about where I am. This is Lawrence Kansas, in front of some dead nondescript club. I am too busy looking cool to acknowledge just how lonesome I am. A cool wind blows by in the early spring. I hug my trench coat closer until it passes.
I recall the melody of what was playing in the girls headphones. It's a familiar song. She’s listening to a trance number and one of the good ones at that. One of those songs that make me want to just close my eyes and float for eternity in a rainbowy void, taking full advantage of the "ignorance is bliss" theorem.
A long drag finishes off the cigarette. I recall another effect of those songs. If you put them on repeat, and don't speak to anyone, and get lost in it until you actually feel like you're really floating in that rainbowy void, you suddenly don't care about anything as well. Death seems like not only a viable option, but perhaps a fun one. The silence after the song ends is calming, and allows one to rationally consider the advantages to self destruction.
I go back inside. She's still dancing. From 7 feet I can hear it's the same melody. Her eyes are still closed. She isn't dancing as actively now, as much as she's rhythmically swaying. I lean in slowly and press my lips to hers. She yields. Her eyes flutter so that I can't tell whether they're open or closed.
This melody repeats in my ears and mind whether I listen to it or not. I hear it and I can’t resist. I am completely consumed by the instruments as I focus on one, then another, relishing each quick note. My lips are pressed. Is this the music’s doing?
My eyes open to find a tall tan man with a thin face and goatee staring only moments from my face. In those eyes, I see my reflection and…
"Thank you" she whispers. She takes her left ear bud out and knowingly slides it into my ear. The song is clear. She leans in and says into the right ear "You know what it is, how it sounds. Take me home. Show me how it feels."
"You want another form of release is all. One is just like the other on a base level. Simply a matter of permanency and intensity." I reply. I take her in my arms and whisper into her right ear "Lets go."
As the door closed behind us, the song ended, and began again.
This is the series in which goes the users daylogs, please keep non-daylogs out of here, and keep daylogs in here. Also, do not edit the title of this, or pieces in it will not be recognised as daylogs, thanks.