Grave Six: Home

The bus rattled loudly and bumped along the spottily paved road. Nondescript suburban scenery flew by in pastel colored blurs. Inside the metal death trap, several other passengers were sending me suspicious glares. I just sat quietly, lost in my own thoughts. Here I was, on the uncomfortable sojourn with public transportation, all because some rational part of me had decided it was time to stop running away from my past. A few days ago, I would have never thought I could willingly go back here, to the place I so desperately flew from not so many months before. Though the situation was still unsettling to me, it was the only way I could think of to move on. I needed to embrace the past so I could let it go. There was no other way out of this seemingly endless cycle of running and falling down. The more the trip out of the city wore on, the more I strained to hold myself together. As the scenery became less cheerfully middle class, and the houses less frequent and the lawns not so carefully manicured, the brakes screeched and the bus sputtered to a stop. Looking outside, I could see the very same neighborhood I'd grown up in. Slowly, I got up and made my way off, my feet wanting nothing more than to carry me right back to my seat. I clenched my fists as my boots stepped down and touched the cracked pavement. The smell of asphalt and sweat stung my nose. I could see several pawn shops, and liquor stores scattered down the road, neon signs boasting lotto, cigarettes, and easy money. Home sweet home.  Gritting my teeth, I began walking. Every square of the sidewalk was as familiar as it had always been. Turning automatically at the proper street, I finally saw my house. Though rather small in perimeter, it seemed to loom over me as I stood in front of it. Unsurprisingly, no one had bought it since I moved out and let the bank foreclose for bills I couldn't pay. The grass looked like a miniature jungle and one of the shutters seemed to have met with a base-ball bat, but besides that, it was just how I left it. In a reverie, I reached out and grasped the doorknob, and slowly turned it, feeling the dirt shift underneath my palm. The door reluctantly opened with a properly ominous noise, and I peered inside. Dim sunlight from heavily draped windows made it hard to see, though I didn't need a light to know exactly where everything was. The familiar, musty smell of old carpet was thick in the air. It seemed that some of the furniture had disappeared, but like the exterior, it was more or less the same. The floor boards squeaked in the same spots as always as, I made my way down the hall. I drifted to the door at the left, opening it to reveal my mother's bedroom. Here, the dying afternoon light filtered in, the whole room glowed warmly in late autumn sunlight. The only piece of furniture, the bed, looked just how it had every night I wandered in seeking consolation as a child. The slight scent of cinnamon wafted in the air, making me flinch inwardly as I turned to leave. Exiting the bedroom, I went to the door directly across the hall. I stood still a second just outside the threshold, then thrust it open in one quick motion, flicking the light-switch as soon as I stepped inside. The bright, uncovered fluorescence of the bathroom light stung my eyes, and as they adjusted, I looked down on the floor. Dark reddish-brown of dried blood was smeared over nearly half of the tiles, drip marks and puddles ran off the counters. It's sickly sweet smell of death and decay overwhelmed me. I blinked. Clean, blank, white tiles stared back at me. There was no crime scene, and only the faint odor of bleach hung in the air. The panic passed, and I felt nothing. I looked at my arms, and saw only silvery threads on porcelain skin, decorations and nothing more. What I did to myself here, for all my despair and frustration, it set me on this strange path that collided with the most unusual being I had ever met.  I thought back on all the times my heart hurt so bad I thought it would stop. I remembered the last few months of my mother's life; watching her wither slowly, helpless as she forgot me, and herself.  It was all over now, for her, but not for myself, contrary to what I had once planned. I took a few ragged breaths, then walked down the hallway with determined steps, out through the living room and the front door, shutting it behind me like a promise. There was one more thing I need to do. *. I approached the wrought-iron gates of the cemetery like an old friend, knowing exactly how the gravel sounded as it crunched underneath my feet, recognizing the silhouettes of the oak trees that were barely visable in the twilight, and remembering all the usual sounds of birds singing the dead to sleep. The gates gave in easily to my touch, and I slipped inside, strolling down the familiar rows of granite statues and tombstones. A few mausoleums stood among the trees, austere and imposing in the shadows. Some of the older graves had begun to lead over, while others now lay on their sides. I knew all these stones, but there was only one I wanted to see this time. Towards the center of the graveyard, I saw it. A new marble headstone shone brilliant white against the others, which were faded gray with time. Nearby, the carved visage of an angel gazed down at me with a compassionate smile and open arms. "I miss you" I whispered. The angel did not answer. Without warning throat clenched and my vision blurred as tears built up and spilled from my eyes, slipping down my face. Was it alright to cry now? Was over? I knelt at the angel's feet, resting my cheek on the cool marble base, and I let myself go in a private moment of weakness. I cried and sobbed and dry heaved until there were no tears left in my body. It felt as though I had burned up all the emotions I ever had. There was only blissful emptiness left in their wake. Wiping my damp face with my arm, I looked around to see that the sun had fully set and the last traces of light had vanished with it. I savored the feeling the night breeze that made goosebumps form on my skin. I faintly heard the cries of night-birds and distant traffic. The familiar world of my childhood seemed new, strange, and not quite mine anymore. Letting my mind wander, I wondered if Amadeus would appear after dark, as he seemed to be in the habit of doing, whether I was always aware of it or not. I knew he'd find me here, if he wanted to. As if on queue, there was a soft thud of shoes meeting dirt, announcing that he had arrived. I didn't want lift my tearstained face as I heard him kneel down behind me, when I felt his breath on my neck. Amadeus pried me gently from the statue base and into his arms. His skin was cold like the stone. I didn't offer any protest, just let him hold me, and wipe a few stray tears away with the back of his hand. I didn't think about what he really was, I just needed someone, anyone, to tell me it would be alright now, that this pain would never come back. What seemed like hours passed as I lay in his arms, unable to remember the last time I felt so at peace. I listened to the trees sighing with the wind through their branches, to the night-birds calling each other, to the constant and slow pace of Amadeus's breath. I gazed out at the moonlit cemetery, occasionally glancing at the feathers of Amadeus's wings, trembling in the breeze. The inner ones were small and light like down and, too sleepy to remember my hesitance towards their owner, I reached out and touched them. They were soft and slight as they looked, and silky too. I felt Amadeus laugh, the vibrations rumbling deep from his chest. Finally, I looked up at Amadeus's face, luminescent in the autumn moonlight, his dark eyes touched with concern. I felt him place a hand over my heart, holding it there for a second, before pulling away slightly, to better see my face. His eyes were warm, and he smiled softly down at me. Turning away and blushing slightly, reminding myself that I was was in the presence of an immortal being unfathomably powerful and ancient. I grew suddenly self-conscious, wondering what I was doing in a cemetery at midnight with a vampire. Hadn't horror movies taught me anything? A cold finger lifted up my chin. I kept my eyes averted, a weak attempt to have my way.  "Don't be so nervous" He said quietly, leaning down softly pressing his lips to my cheek "I was a human once too." I turned my eyes to Amadeus's face, giving in. I ignored the flawless marble of his skin, made to seem even more stone-like by the blood-colored curls of hair that fell around it. I ignored the hint of fangs behind his slightly parted lips- and the fact that the breath passing through them was only habit. Instead, I gazed into his deep mahogany eyes, framed by thick, curled lashes. A thousand highlights seemed to shimmer inside them. They were loving and kind with a hint of mystery lurking behind them. In his eyes, I believed him, I saw a human. A million thoughts rushed into my head. If he was human, how did he become a vampire? Who was he? Where was he from? "Please, tell me...tell me how you died..." I said nervously, my voice so quiet even I could barley hear it. Amadeus smiled. "Ah, so she can speak." He said playfully, then stopped a second, thinking. "As for your question, I have to warn you the answer isn't all that interesting." I calmly said nothing, waiting for him to go on. "As I said, there wasn't anything terribly notable about my death, It was actually an accident. Once upon a time, I lived in a rather primitive fishing village, in Scandinavia. I was in a long-boat with only my friend...which I probably should not have been doing...and...well, it overturned." He paused again. "The only spectacular phenomena involved was my...not dying. It is a very rare occurrence indeed, when a vampire is "born to darkness" with no sire involved. Such a thing only happens when the will to live overcomes death itself. In most vampires, this overwhelming desire passes into them through a sire's blood, changing their bodies to cheat death, and in a fashion, life. But, there are exceptions such as mine. I remember seeing my friend's body slowly stop struggling against the freezing water, and knowing it would happen to me next...but then refusing to let it. I really cannot describe it to you much better, darling, that feeling...all I can say is in that moment a part of me did die, but not as my friend had." I let this new information seep into my brain. I had never thought of the technicalities involved with a vampire's...birth. I wondered what it was like to escape death the opposite of the way I had. I felt sorrow for Amadeus's recollection of his friend's death, and regretted asking the question so abruptly. I should have considered his feelings. Amadeus leaned down and laid a kiss on my forehead. "Don't worry yourself, bright eyes, I have had more than enough time to lose that sensitivity" He assured me. "Your concern is sweet, though".  Though it was decidedly a textbook Hollywood horror situation, I was sitting in a cemetery in the middle of night talking to a vampire about his death...feeling curiously warm inside. Despite myself, my lips curled into a gesture of sincere happiness I had not show in a while. I smiled, genuine and real. * The wind picked up, whipping my hair around my face, the strands stinging as I clung onto Amadeus for dear life. Below us, I couldn't see the ground through the darkness, but I was sure we were impossibly high up.  Flying was unsettling, to say the least, and my only other experience certainly didn't help much. Why did I ever agree to let him take me home this way? The bus would have been worth the wait, I thought bitterly as my eyes began to burn. Amadeus's arms tightened around me, obviously sensing my distress as h always did. Finally giving up on my vow to watch what was going on, I buried my face in Amadeus's jacket. The velvet was incredibly soft and comforted my wind-burned skin. I breathed in the spicy cinnamon scent that always seemed to cling to him. Measuring my gasps of air evenly, the nauseous dizziness that heights often gave me subsided a little. I tried my best to calm myself, concentrating on the beat of his wings. And several long minutes later, he began to descend; landing on a building rooftop with an unceremonious thump. I cautiously opened my eyes, and, assured that I was on the ground, tried to untangled myself from Amadeus. He reluctantly let go, setting me down gently on my feet. Refusing help, I wobbled slightly, but quickly regained my balance. It was quite nice to be returned to my solid ground. "I have to leave now, the sun is rising." Amadeus said softly. I came back to myself and looked over at the horizon, noticing that it was the slightest shade of pink. Turning back, I noticed Amadeus's spellbinding gaze fixated on me. I shifted foot to foot uncomfortably. After a moment he smiled, breaking his stare.  He placed a hand on the side of my face and leaned forward, looking as if he were about to speak but did not, instead pressing his lips to mine for a sudden second. Then he turned around and spread his wings; ascending the skies again and disappearing into the sunrise. I watched until he'd simply become a black speck amongst the birds, in the open doorway to the door to the stairwell. As I wearily trekked back down the steps, I tried not to think too hard. My head was hurting and my body was beginning to feel the abuse I lavished upon it- and I wasn't keen on adding confusion and worry to the mix at that particular moment. Reaching my door, I dug my keys out of my pocket and eagerly opened it, then slammed it shut behind me in a petty attempt to annoy my neighbors. Home sweet home.

Author's Note

Please understand that I began this years ago as a very depressed preteen. But I welcome positive and negative feedback.