Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven

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Enjoy the Silence

The creeping sound of the inevitable is one I have learned to loathe and yet, something I have become accustomed to after fifty-five years on this mortal coil. Everything seems to have its own pulse and while a steady, healthy beat thumping in time with the rhythm of life lets us know the body around us is healthy, when the heart starts to fail, the results can be devastating.

“Words, like violence, break the silence…” Read the rest of this entry

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Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven

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Forgive Me

As the night wore on, I found myself wondering about the knot forming in my stomach. One of the unfortunate side effects of being a seer is the uncanny ability to sense the strangest things. A wicked set of eyes upon me; the intent of evil beings when they mean harm or malice to others. Much of that has had to be tempered, as my own intentions toward a mortal can be less than noble, especially as of late. Embracing what I am has forced things to be as such, but it is a path I care little for retreating from as I find peace with my vampire nature at long last.

So, these whispers and chills have taken on a different form. Intuition, some call it. That heavy weight which deposits itself on my shoulders when I scent something in the air without a face or name. Once upon a time, I boasted of great power and wielded it with authority. I used to gather energy to my fingertips and use it to throw man and vampire alike around like rag dolls, but such had not been the case for years. At best, I became a petty magician after Monica’s death.

Things were different now, though. Ever since meeting Victor, my past had the habit of surfacing during my most private moments with my lover. Years ago, I swore never to speak of who or what I was to any depth and only violated this covenant with Robin and, in very limited instances, with Celeste. Now, though, I spent hours with Victor, exchanging stories over who we were to the deepest, most intimate parts of ourselves. I spoke names I had stricken from my lips. I shed tears I bottled years ago. I explored my abilities in more depth behind closed doors after demonstrating them to Victor.

I opened the doors wide and allowed somebody into the innermost recesses of myself. Read the rest of this entry

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Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven

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A Fixed Point in the Cosmos

It took several seconds of fishing through pockets for me to find the metal cigarette case gifted to me when I yet lived with Ophelia in Toronto. The moment I pulled it out, though, I reconsidered my urge for this lingering mortal crutch. I had wandered outside for this purpose alone and yet, it seemed now that I was outside, I needed something else. My eyes raised heavenward while I turned the case around in my hand idly.

The stars seemed exceptionally bright, but still my thoughts could not help but to drift to when I was a boy, regarding the heavens from the fields my father tended. In rural Pennsylvania, we were surrounded by nothing more than land, it seemed – expansive as the eye could wander either north, east, south, or west. As such, when my much younger and more alive self stared at the stars, he beheld bright crystals shimmering in the black expanse above him. I have wandered many places and looked to the sky each time my feet have touched unfamiliar soil. Never have I seen the stars so brilliant as I did back then. Read the rest of this entry

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Celeste had the piano shipped from France, from her Parisian estate, the moment she found what she deemed to be ‘the perfect spot’ for it. Our new home  filled up quickly with an assortment of furniture brought in from the four corners of the world and I gladly entrusted her with the task of decorating. Words being my vice, color schemes, furniture arrangement, and Feng Shui were all concepts lost on me. So long as I had a desk to sit at in a study, I would not be found complaining about anything else. Especially when an artist demanded a corner of a room filled a certain way.

I passed by the instrument several times a day without giving it much thought. At first, the polished grand was one of those fixtures which blends into the background, something we glance at without really seeing. I set papers on it when I found myself within its proximity and leaned on it while conversing with another, but none of these actions ascribed any real appreciation for the piano on my part. It never once complained about my apathy or neglect and sat in its perfect spot throughout the days which passed. I did not pay it any mind. Until the sheet music appeared out of nowhere one day.

A brisk stroll punctuated my movements through the room it slumbered in day after day. My head buried in a book, I finished reading one page and turned it to continue in my literary journey. As I did so, though, I caught sight of something light-colored contrasting against the dark wood. I paused my steps at once. Perking an eyebrow at the strange vision my eyes took in, I recognized the notes and symbols arranged on the page. Walking closer brought out the title of the piece. “Clair de Lune” by Claude Debussy. A memory swelled immediately from the recesses of my heart and I placed the book down while sliding onto the piano bench to take a closer look. Read the rest of this entry

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