Luciferian Lullabies 1

Just a part of a story I'm writing.

Lightening quivered and licked the starless night threw a cresent opening in the stone wall, which served more as a crack than an actual vantage point. As I watched the dark abyss swim around me in a kaleidoscope of fleeting light, it hit me, like a stray bolt from a distant storm, a memory I'd almost lost amongst the shattered remnants of my mind. A stranger the previous night, in an unprovoked and startling manner, had offered me a cautioning wisdom. His skin was parched to a leathery consistency by the beating sun, his clothes scorched and dry-rotten. My immediate reaction was to pass him by, however, his 'lunatic-on-a-mission; demeanor caught my attention. His eyes told of a man with substance, an intelligence that, despite his queerness, superseded his mundane appearance. At times, when he spoke, they seemed to bulge from his head like a anxious child's', and at others they held mine in a tight, uncomfortable stare. He said, in a raspy voice that could scarcely contain his nervous excitement, several disjointed messages; the last being:

“See not only with your eyes, beyond the good intentions. The serpents move close to grasp each other's tails. At times the darkness reveals it's secrets more than the light blinds one from the truth. The shadows that accentuate the harsh, menacing lines of his face, tell truth more than the light that plays across his delicate features.”

I pondered this for a moment, becoming increasingly irritated by his incessant staccato ramblings, and left. My philosophy had always been, if a person is unable to come out and say something outright, it wasn't worth my time to try and decipher their clues. A belief that had, on more than one occasion, caused a scuffle with some unforthcoming soothsayers and card readers. It was only then, in that rank cell, that I looked back on this menial incident and realized his devastating message. And in that most desperate time, that I envied that penniless soothsayer; loitering in his gutter, free to cajole among his sewer rats. Brooding silently, I wondered if the thunder that shook the ramrod bars of my cage mirrored his laughter.

During the abrupt flashes of light that preceded each boom, I caught a glimpses of him hunched over his work bench. He'd been working for hours now on some unknown deviancy, undisturbed by even the drone of insects that had congregated at the lamp above his head. The entity that stood before me was not a man, rather, the shade of once was one. I had seen sketches of him in some historic manuscripts back in Barcelona. He'd been a decorated commander during the 18^th century, one of many honors and of fearless conviction. They called him LaFlamme, because his bright red curls would stand out spectacularly amongst his darker featured Spanish comrades, especially when soaked in enemy blood. The being that stood before me, remnants of human flesh plastered to him like a second skin, was not the man who had entranced women and slaughtered thousands for the sake of his people. It, was the compilation of all the perverted violence and animalistic instincts that had been skillfully hidden in the mortal LaFlamme. That's why the vampires were such a reviled race. They were not human, nor dead, but the embodiment of the evil dormant within mankind.

A whimper from one of the nearby cells suddenly caught his attention. His paraffin ears, so delicate they looked almost to be made of blown glass, followed the sound with an instinctive twitch. I was baffled at this indication of elfin lineage, being that it was nearly unheard of for a vampire to turn one of elfin decent. The groan of metal scraping metal accompanied him into the darkness, the sound of a monstrous ball-and-chain strapped to his well scarred ankle. Alarm suddenly gripped my hazy mind, like a nightmare in the midst of fever. I'd been left to the charge of a man not even my captors could handle without proper restraints, and from the looks of things, they did not intend on retrieving me.

More whimpers, more lightening, then silence. The darkness began to thicken till I could scarcely breathe.

Reviews

[Colton O'Weekly]

Very nice. Very intense. I enjoyed it, greatly. I love the way you write it, and the first person is nice. It seems very dark and very gritty, which'll turn out very nice, and I'm looking forward to more of your writing.