Alone

Immortality is not to be envied...

Alone

 

                It’s late, it’s dark, and I’m cold.  I’m always cold.  I don’t remember the last time I had a warm vein in my body.  I press my ashen cigarette against the sole of my shoe and slip along the shadows virtually undetected from passersby.  I cannot glide, I cannot change forms, I even struggle to walk for Christ’s sake.  I envy them.  Each and every person I see I envy.  The morbidly decrepit, the psychologically unbalanced, even the most suffering of the roofless; I envy.  Every human knows that they are not alone in this world, and that is all it takes for them to have my envy.

                I watch them with yearning.  I want to be one of them, but never can this be.  I don’t even know how I came to exist, but I do know that the bastardization of what I am has only come to make those fools cherish what I have.  Immortality is the bane of my existence.  Now people think I sparkle in the sun light; people think I live a life worthy of praise.  This careless act of molestation has been done before to the likes of the tales from the Brothers Grimm.  I do not live in a mansion, I am not surrounded by fine art, and I do not have any family I can call my own.  This selfish drive to make me out to be something magnificent has deluded people, but they are easily deluded.  They seem to be upset with their humanness.  I should hate them, but I cannot, for it would be a hate born of envy; such a hate is quite ill-founded.  This is no reason to kill, and to that point I have never tasted the warm assurance of human blood.  My indefinite fast does not kill me, but it does make me weak.  I imagine if I drank their blood I could have unimaginable powers, but I’d only be helping myself and hurting their society.  I do not wish to have a negative impact on society.

                That’s not to say I haven’t thought about it… killing them.  The stories even tell of them becoming like me after I bite them; I, however, find that unlikely.  I sit alone, as I have for an eternity, and I watch.  All I really want to do is contribute.  I wish to be a member of their society.  I look like them, I talk like them, but I will never be one of them.  I am too weak to work.  I would only hurt them.  Loneliness is the only answer.

                The sun is rising.  I’m too tired to hide from it today.  I’ve heard that I will die if I’m exposed.  I contemplate my death.  Would it be so bad?  As it rises I begin to feel warmth against my frozen skin.  It feels like whatever liquid runs through my veins is boiling.  This marvelous sensation spurns me to stand up tall.  I close my eyes and let the sun take me, but it doesn’t.  I soon realize the folly of my actions and attempt to recoil, but I cannot move.  I try to open mine eyes, but they will not open.  Is this how it is to be?  Is this how I am now fated to spend eternity?

 

                “Mommy mommy look,” the little girl innocently grabs her mother’s hand and guides her to a stone statue of a being from another time.  The mother takes her daughter’s lead and they stand before possibly the most magnificent of granite statues they have ever seen.  Everything on the statue is perfect.  Not just perfect in the sense that the artist had crafted a masterfully flawless piece, but the man had no flaws when it came to being a man.  His jaw was strong, his shoulders were broad, his waste was solid, and his legs were straight.  The little girl began to cry.

                “Sweetie why are you crying?” the mother tried to wipe away her daughter’s tears but the little girl gently brushed her mother’s hand aside.  “Look at the man mommy,” the mother looked at the statue and took the time to follow the lines across the face.  From the ridges of the nose to the warm smile of the eyes the mother saw it too and began to cry.  What she saw cannot be put into words, but it was there clear as day.  When the mother and daughter collected themselves they brushed the statue lovingly with their soft kind hands and turned to walk away.  As they walked away a single tear crept through the granite to playfully roll down the face of the statue… of the man.

Author's Note

Something a little different from my usual jazz; hope it is enjoyed :)

Reviews

[Samuel Dickens]

Outstanding. I found this to be imaginative, entertaining, and very well written.

[kylejacobson]

Much appreciated. Thank you sir :)

[Marie]

I enjoyed it very much...the gradual manifestation of this being to vampire...to statue...to the final tear...

[kylejacobson]

Thank you :) I'm glad you enjoyed it.