was
my beginning
is the
emblem
of eternity
As you know, if you have read the Chronicles.... and shame on those who have not... Armand let me live.. for as long as I *interested* him, he claimed And thus began our game. I would run, he would follow. I would hide, he would seek me out.. And always I would ask him, plead with him.."Give me the Dark Gift". And always he would deny me and yet he would torment me, with tiny tastes of that deep red elixir that ran through his veins. Just enough to make me crave more and bind me closer to him, if that were possible, for already I loved him.. So I would run again, amd again, until finally my abused body could take it no longer. I lost myself in the mists of an alcoholic stupor, my only thought of my next drink. Anything to make me try and forget. Who would believe that the unshaven bum, in the tattered clothes was a million selling author. It was ironic to see my book displayed in so many store windows.."Interview With The Vampire".. My pocket held a crumpled royalty check, but who would cash it? So I slept on benches and huddled in doorways, spending the days scrounging for the money to buy a bottle of some cheap liquor, enough to lull me into that needed state where I could forget. Gradually, I weakened, the alcohol taking its toll on a frame already emaciated from lack of food. This time, he would not find me, lost in the jungle of the derelects, the homeless and unwanted.. My abused body could finally take it no longer.. As my death loomed closer, wonder of wonders, he finally found me and gave in, unwilling to lose the love that had grown between us.
"Love"... Such a small word, but the love that we have for each other is deeper than any mortal could fathom. It is as though we are two bodies with one soul...each incomplete with out the other.... but there is also control and the need to be controlled. A complex relationship at times. Sometimes, my need for him becomes so all-consuming that I attempt to prove to myself that it is not so. And those are some of the times when I still flee, as far and as fast as I can. At other times, the darkness settles around me, seeking to suffocate that which I now call *life*.... but those times are now thankfully becoming more rare.
Most of the time, I revel in my immortality and now that Armand and I are reunited, I sit at his feet, like a child eager to learn. He has had centuries of the Dark Gift, while I am approaching but two decades. There is so much he has seen and done and I watch his beautiful face as the words pour out. How soon will the shadows overtake me and cause me to run yet again? Who knows! I pray (yes I believe in God, as does my maker), that it will not be soon. I spend my days sleeping in the sanctuary of his arms and for now, I am content. Our love seems all the sweeter for having been apart and grows stronger with each night's embrace.
My Angel of Death, my Master, my maker, my lover....... my Armand
Photograph Death of Hyacinth, used with permission of the artist Carvin Rinehart
Death fades the lines of pain and hate; smoothes like a babe who'll soon awake
But yet he slumbers, does not stir; as though in dreams quite unaware
No breath lifts up his chest so smooth; no heartbeat urges him to move.
by DVM
