The Beauty of Death, Immortality & Eternal Love

This is the internal monologue of a newly changed vampire. However played out vampire are these days, this is a new point of view, one that isn't given very often.

I miss the sun sometimes. Not because of the heat or the daylight but because of the way its rays warmed me to my core on days where only my skin felt cold like ice. It was the sensation of relief and it hugged me letting me know that everything was going to be okay. Truthfully not much has changed for me since I turned. While other girls spent their day’s sun bathing I spent mine basking in the pale light of the moon.  I soaked up its’ beauty hoping that it would rub off on me so turning into a night walker has been everything I ever wanted.

            She’s worried that I hate her for changing me. She doesn’t understand that I really wanted this. I wanted this for me too, not just because I wanted to be with her forever. I was so eager I even brushed my hair to the side and stretched my neck for her. I gasped from the unexpected pain which subsided into the heavy breathing and numbness of blood loss. There was no euphoria like I had imagined and I didn’t expect to feel it as my veins opened and drained. After all it wasn’t the first time I had an open wound but this was different because the sensation of being fed on wasn’t the part that did it for me.  Dying is what opened my eyes. I felt it all as I faded to black, and it was beautiful. As the blood left my system my heart kicked into overtime and everything began to slow down. Slowly one by one I could feel my organs shut off as if they were finally at rest. It was as if nothing mattered, I simply sat as a barley there spirit in a lifeless shell. My skin ran cold and all of the heat left my body, almost instantly.

 As my lungs fought for their last breath I felt it as they finally caved in with nothing left to push them forward. The pain was crushing and somehow comforting as if I was being held tight by somebody that loved me. As my mind began to go I didn't see my life or the light, I saw a murder.  My soul screamed to the graying skies with freedom and eternal love, forcing me to use my final seconds to look into her large dark eyes. That’s when the demons claimed me. I could see the art that was my death in their reflection as they traded their souls for mine. In my absolute final moment I understood the beauty that was death and the way that art was nothing without a spark of insanity. I wanted to swim in this moment forever, I was finally at peace but all too soon it was over. I love her for what she did to me, I love her for the person she is and even more importantly, I love her for feeling terrible about it.

Coming back was much less beautiful. I was forced to drudge my soul back up from the gates of hell and Lucifer was not kind. I had to drag myself through every regret and every mistake. Not a single pleasant moment was present during my reincarnation. I could feel myself, I was alive and I had traded my human soul for that of a demon, one blessed with immortality.

Finally after what felt like an eternity in the unfeeling darkness, stuck with only my thoughts I felt one final heartbeat. It was strong and intense, I could see it happen. A grey heart, dead and in the process of decay, turning black in my chest cavity letting out one final pump as it kick started the rest of my eternity. Slowly I felt everything come back to me, decayed and beyond repair but it forced me into my senses.

            I could feel my arms again as my soul reattached with my body but somehow it felt wrong, different. This was not the body I had spent my entire life growing accustom to. These muscles were different, stronger, and stiffer. It all felt wrong, so terribly wrong as if I didn’t belong in this body. Then again, I didn’t belong here. I had died, I had no business reanimating my corpse like I had. I was simply glad that I was strong enough. She had warned me that I might not get to come back, if I couldn’t fight through my past or find the will to make it back. A small splash of arctic water soaked its way through every nerve in my cheek and the pure shock of it caused me to finally take my first breath. My lungs expanded like a memory but inside was heavy and I began choking on the sheer mess of it. The ashes of ruin and decay from the underworld had come back with me lest I forget where I had come from.  

            Every drop of water that fell from the sky, and there were a lot of them, was clear as day. Each of them lighting their own piece of flesh, causing ripples that collided into one another causing my body to burn with the fuzzy joy of feeling. Her large eyes, like solid large black pools full of pain and years of loneliness burrowed into me with surprise and delight. Her beautiful porcelain hands found their way to my face where the sensational spasm didn’t cease. She ran her thumbs over my eyes where I could feel now were larger, more sunken in and without seeing a mirror I knew they would be entirely black, from corner to corner just like hers. She grinned and whispered something in Romanian that I recognized slightly as you came back to me but I couldn’t be sure. I didn’t speak fluent Romanian, but now I had all the time in the world.

            An ache in my gums traveled it way up my cheeks. I reached my hand up to touch my lips and was surprised by the temperature of my skin. It was as if my mind had awoken from rigamortis but the rest of my body had forgotten.  By throat burned, in the same way that the cold air used to bite at my nostrils but more than that there was an insufferable dry feeling on my tongue as if there wasn’t anything in the world that could satiate it but I knew there was one thing. I had finally taken my first step, too quickly, too articulately. She stood back, her white blonde hair being soaked by the rain to give me space to move and get to know my body. It had been two hundred years since she had felt this sensation and yet she still remembered. She knew exactly what I needed, but then, she had always known. I could hear the shuffling of some dirt and the scoop of a shovel a few yards away. I tried to walk slowly and adjust but unlike my majestic counterpart I knew that I looked awkward and unstable. I followed the sound and fed on the graveyard groundskeeper. I drained him, unintentionally but I didn’t mind nor did Luna. We simply buried his corpse in a grave he had been digging, chuckled at the irony and then lay on the headstones looking at the moon.

            Since then she has grown wary, she says I am too quiet and she worries that I made the wrong choice. I don’t think I did, but I do admit to often thinking of a second death. I would love to experience the beauty all over again, to feel that much wonder once more I would gladly give up my life again. Alas, I do not think it would be the same since I am not even truly alive. I feel I would simply deteriorate and return to my sweet Lucifer with whom I feel I really made this deal. I would simply turn to dust to accept my eternal resting place. Then there is my sweet and beautiful Luna. I could never abandon her that way, to an eternity of loneliness for she says she will never love another the way she loves me. The thought of leaving her lips, soft, supple and so pale pink that they almost looked white. They had the perfect thick curve, as if god himself had drawn them just for me. I could never do that to her. Although when she is ready to die I can’t imagine I will think twice about going with her. If I don’t get a beautiful second death then I refuse to live my second life without her.

            I feel free. It’s as if everything in the world has washed its hands of me and I am now even more insignificant than I was before which is a gift all in itself. I have fallen off the map. What expectations are there of me now that I am dead? I am to feed and to do as I please. How simple my life has become. I no longer need to brush it off and move along, thinking of all of the things I could have done or said. If a man harasses me I simply rip out his heart and use it as a juice box. When people bother me I use my teeth to rip out their jugular. I am very careful however to not feed from on too much for if they die by my bite lest they become like us. Luna often jokes if I didn’t like them as a human I certainly won’t like them as an immortal. I bite and then tear, careful to make sure they die by bleeding out of their own accord.  Just because I can’t kill them how I please does not mean I want them alive. I feel the most frustrating part is that I present them with the gift of death, allow them to feel its embrace without the fear of deciding and yet I feel as if they do not see it for all that it is. That alone I firmly believe is reason enough to murder. Ungrateful b******s.

            I believe the freedom of death with the certainty of afterlife is the very reason I asked Luna to do this to me. It is the reason I sought her out, it is the reason I sold my soul. I had to know but I was not finished on this earth. Of course, I never once thought I would find my soul mate, in that aspect I got so unbelievably lucky. This is a life that is worth my immortal soul. Despite her caring protests and subtle insecurities I have no regrets about the life that I have chosen. I am immortal. 

Author's Note

This was my first attempt at internal descriptive thought. I wanted to explain how it felt to change, to be immortal...strictly from a fictional standpoint obviously.