ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
The love of my life for seventy years was finally slipping away from me. She was just a frail shadow of the girl I'd been so tempted to kill, that night she first invited me into her home. When she spoke it was a different story; she had all the sardonic verve as that femme fatale in 1940.
Back then, during the Blitz, London suffered an air raid almost every night. A creature of those dark hours, I stalked the alleys and ruinous streets looking for charitable young women to let me into their homes. And then, as they slept, I would feed on their blood until they could offer no more. If I had done that to my darling Vivian, I would never have known true love...or true heartbreak.
She saved her life with that one sly look, when she invited me in. Those eyes, like emeralds in ivory, they shone through my soulless body and awakened a passion in me, when I had only known passion for blood. There was something in them that was as supernatural as I.
I took her to bed that night, in her bomb shelter--she had been married once, but he was long gone. In the heat of our carnal embrace, I admit, the numbing yellow anesthetic that leaks whenever my fangs are ready to be plunged into flesh dripped into her hair. She saw it, but never said a word, about that.
She never said a word about my eternal youth. She knew, somehow.
Her eyes remained the same, and on her final day alive, lying on that hospital bed in the Scottish countryside far from Big Ben, she gave me that look again. It was a look that told me she knew what I was, and she didn't care. It was a look that could, and had, made me do anything. On that final day, she made me promise.
"I want you..."She spoke softly, "To promise me you'll never kill a young woman like I was again."
I was puzzled, and she could tell.
"I want you...to take me. Take me, and take others like me...the old, the sick and dying. You know our blood's just as good. You know...you know it."
I didn't say a word. I leaned in, and I sunk my teeth gently into her carotid, my fangs tipped with numbing poison. She drifted into peaceful, eternal sleep, and I found myself bound to an entirely new curse.As I pulled away, and looked at her face one last time, I realized what I had missed for seven decades.
Her front teeth, though not sharp enough to be fangs, dripped with yellow anesthetic. And I knew why those emeralds in ivory were so powerful.
Back then, during the Blitz, London suffered an air raid almost every night. A creature of those dark hours, I stalked the alleys and ruinous streets looking for charitable young women to let me into their homes. And then, as they slept, I would feed on their blood until they could offer no more. If I had done that to my darling Vivian, I would never have known true love...or true heartbreak.
She saved her life with that one sly look, when she invited me in. Those eyes, like emeralds in ivory, they shone through my soulless body and awakened a passion in me, when I had only known passion for blood. There was something in them that was as supernatural as I.
I took her to bed that night, in her bomb shelter--she had been married once, but he was long gone. In the heat of our carnal embrace, I admit, the numbing yellow anesthetic that leaks whenever my fangs are ready to be plunged into flesh dripped into her hair. She saw it, but never said a word, about that.
She never said a word about my eternal youth. She knew, somehow.
Her eyes remained the same, and on her final day alive, lying on that hospital bed in the Scottish countryside far from Big Ben, she gave me that look again. It was a look that told me she knew what I was, and she didn't care. It was a look that could, and had, made me do anything. On that final day, she made me promise.
"I want you..."She spoke softly, "To promise me you'll never kill a young woman like I was again."
I was puzzled, and she could tell.
"I want you...to take me. Take me, and take others like me...the old, the sick and dying. You know our blood's just as good. You know...you know it."
I didn't say a word. I leaned in, and I sunk my teeth gently into her carotid, my fangs tipped with numbing poison. She drifted into peaceful, eternal sleep, and I found myself bound to an entirely new curse.As I pulled away, and looked at her face one last time, I realized what I had missed for seven decades.
Her front teeth, though not sharp enough to be fangs, dripped with yellow anesthetic. And I knew why those emeralds in ivory were so powerful.
Literature
Love
Kiedy czujesz woń bezduszną utoń w niej,
bo serce potrzebuje tego nie głowa.
Ty nie kochasz tej miłości sercem,
ty jej nie rozumiesz.
Pozbądź się ciężkości,
pozwól sobie na to co najgłębsze.
A dojdziesz do miejsca w którym zrozumiesz...
Że miłość po prostu jest.
Wiersz mojej koleżanki. Pozwoliła na publikację. B.G.
Literature
Love
Literature
Songs From a Lesbian's Hymnal
she and I found each other
in the middle of being eaten alive.
for months I had been
a ghost yearning
to be more dead. I haunted
the drawers and cupboards of my house,
looking for answers to the
secret aches within your bones,
you kept slicing open your wrists,
hoping to go deeper each and
every time I was hiding in the dark
listening to the breath of my mother and
wondering how do you tell someone that
you wished you'd never been born, wished with
every candle you blew out that
I could just cure myself of my own existence
because it feels more like a void than something even
reasonably half full.
you wanted to purge your
broken soul o
Suggested Collections
Featured in Groups
For the Flash Fiction contest being run by a great writer's group called 
I'll admit, at 461 words my entry may seem a little half-assed. But hey, I had fun.
I'll admit, at 461 words my entry may seem a little half-assed. But hey, I had fun.
© 2014 - 2024 SgtPossum
Comments13
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
Overall
Vision Originality Technique ImpactThis deviation caught my eye for one reason: Vampires! Your piece gives us a very intimate glimpse into this vampire's experience during a very powerful time in human history. This piece has a voice that is straightforward and easy to understand, which some writers have a problem with, seeing how over-flowery language tends to make readers strain to read the piece. You, however, make this story simple enough to understand, but written enough to make it beautiful. Simply put, this story is made interesting by adding the setting of 1940 London during the Blitz, and makes two genres come together perfectly. Bravo.