"Light." I speak out loud in a grinding raspy voice that sounds like my own,
but is somehow very different. "God above, I, a feeble but honest servant
of yours, ask only for light. Bright, vibrant, soul enriching light. Please
lord, one last time?"
Tears flow from my tightly closed eyes during and beyond, my desperate plea
to God. When at last the final tear drifts down my cheek, a genteel calm
possesses me for the first time since my awakening.
Reaching up I let my hands explore the fine, smooth material that surrounds
me from all sides. It is soft and cool to the touch. The sensation of its
texture arouses me. I bring my hands away from the silky fabric and slowly,
gently moved them across my aching breasts. I begin rubbing, circling, and
fondling each soft, voluptuous mound. I hear myself as if from a distance,
moaning and panting at the wonderful sensation that is consuming me. From
there I allow my now shivering hands to glide down my gown, drift across
my belly toward my waiting maidenhood. With a gasp I catch myself, and at
least for the time being, cease my erotic movements all together.
These last few times when I have awakened and found myself trapped in this
darkened prison I find myself constantly anxious and unbearably aroused,
be it in a thought or even the slightest, accidental stroke of my arm. Like
in this instance I catch my self before progressing to orgasm, but in other
times I simply get lost in my own lustful desires, lost in a passionate world
so delightful it is haunting. Each of my arms seem to have a will of their
own, a longing, with each one trying desperately to grasp my body and take
it. My hands clench into fists, and I force the two appendages down to my
sides. Slowly I catch my breath, and sigh.
I clear my tormented mind. I purge my lustful thoughts. I pray, and it goes
away. It is like the hunger that seizes my body after being awake for a long
while. I have yet to quench it, to satisfy the appalling appetite that possesses
me. Since my first horrific awakening here it is as if all of my senses other
than sight, were somehow magically elevated. Perhaps it’s the fact that
I am bathed in this eternal night that shrouds me, or perhaps, just perhaps,
it was something .... something more.
Within my last thought a surging pain rips into my stomach, as if in retaliation
to my thought of the hunger. I scream as absolute, unbridled agony shears
my body and stabs violently into my soul. My hands grasp, squeeze and scratch
desperately into my skin, as if pealing away its layers would somehow alleviate
the pain. I bend forward in response, but the low roof above stops my ascent
almost as soon as it started. The result of my head impacting forcefully
into the ceiling above spewed forth an assault of tiny wooden shards and
a mist of fine dust which bathed me rapidly in its filth. Inadvertently I
breathed in the choking fumes, which caused me to cough, gasp and belch forth
all that my soiled lungs took in.
"Oh god the pain....unghhhhh." I shriek impulsively as I roll over from side
to side. I begin smashing my fists and kicking my legs into the silk ordained
walls that imprison me. The stern planks that lay behind the cushioned lining
give in easily to my thrashings, spewing wave after wave of what I determine
instantly by its texture and smell to be soil, rock and sand. The pain in
my tortured stomach is fatally worse than any of the previous times.
Desperately I search for air, any air, other than the wretched cloud that
has consumes me. I begin to suffocate. My body in response bolts upward into
the tons of earth above me. An inhuman strength builds within my soul, and
I can feel it surging, coursing its way though my veins, as if my soul itself
were awaking for the first time. I now possess a will to live that is so
strong I know that there is nothing that it will not do to survive. With
infallible strength I begin to claw my way up though the filthy worm infested
earth, driven by the fire whose embers burn in me. Minute after minute I
surge up, tearing and scratching at anything in my path. During my erratic
ascent my body is bathed in grime and filth, and I feel my gown tear away
into dust. I notice that I have stopped breathing entirely, but my heart
pounds harder still in my chest. I can feel the cold soil dampen around my
hands and I now know instinctively that the surface is just beyond me.
With one final surge I smash my hand though the crest of the earth and I
feel the cool air above breeze magically through my opened fingers. And within
the next few moments I am lying naked, curled up on the dew covered thin
blades of grass that once crowned my grave.
I am exhausted, and the pain that tore though me only moments ago, has subsided
into a slight feeling of nausea. I sit quietly and listen intently to the
genteel music made by the many creatures of the night. I am at last at
peace.
The tranquil feeling and sounds that I am embracing, fade as I hear a steady
procession of slow, hard footfalls approaching me. I open my eyes, and for
the first time in how long I do not know, I can see. My surroundings take
me by surprise, but yet I am somehow comforted by them.
A dark, bleak cover of trees looms in the distance and an endless array of
gray, lifeless tombstones populate the seemingly endless slopping hills of
grass. The moon rests casually above all of these nocturnal scenes, shinning
brightly in the night encompassed skies and causing shadows to drift from
the many headstones that are as black as any pit in the deepest bowels of
hell itself. The foot steps are close now, and getting closer. I turn hesitantly
to see who is approaching. In the distance I behold a tall, lean, well dressed
man clear the thicket of trees. I recognize him immediately. His name is
Prince Luke DeOrnellas and he is a vampire. I turn my gaze from him, and
look to my own headstone. I begin to weep as I read its scribe.
Gina T. Balistreri
1801 - 1822
"She married her Prince, but she serves now forever in the kingdom of
heaven"
Rest in Peace our loving daughter"
Reading this brought back a wave of emotions in her, and she wept steadily
until the foot steps stop just behind her. Gracefully Gina brushed back her
tears and gazed down upon the two roses at the base of her headstone. She
couldn’t help but think to herself of the rose, as her dark prince lifted
her into his cold, lifeless arms. The rose was delicately smooth to the touch
of its beautiful pedals, its fragrance sweet and amiable. But to the unwary
admirer of the wonderful flower, it hides its hideous thorns well, until
the fool grasps it and tries to take it with them. "How like the rose’
she ponders as her undead prince steals her away, "is the vampire".