Midnight Hunt: Prologue
It is midnight, the time I fear the most. Not because of the darkness outside, or the ghostly pallor the moon casts upon the earth. No, I fear the night because of the darkness that lies within me. The Bloodthirst. I am lying in apprehension on my bed, hoping that tonight at least, I can resist it.
Even now I feel it burning within me, an unquenchable fire that threatens to consume my body, taking with it both mind and soul. Resisting it is pointless; it would be much easier to give in. But resist it I must, for fear that if I do not, one day, the part of me that is human will altogether cease to exist.
Pounding through me is the blood of an ancient family of vampires, one whose power was so strong that all other vampires turned against them, and killed every last one. Or so they thought. On Monday, October the 31st, the night of the slaying, one vampire managed to escape. She was stronger than most, able to resist the Bloodthirst for many nights in a row, long enough even to pass as human. She was the last of the greatest vampire clan the world has ever known, and within her was the last hope for her family. Me. She was my mother.
The memories of my life with her, they are figments of the past. Best left forgotten, locked up in my mind, without a key in which to release them. While some may argue that an individual’s past is what makes them who they are today, I beg to differ. It is not my past that makes me who I am, but the legacy left behind by generations of vampires.
As these thoughts go through my mind, a searing pain suddenly pierces my entire body. In the space of a moment, my eyes go from their normal green to a bloody red. Agony courses through my shoulders as wings extend from my body. Fangs force my mouth slightly ajar, and my lips throb at the new cut. I catch my reflection in the window, and wish that I could have been the one to carve the way to my future.
Maybe then, the image I see in the window would be different. Not that of a man whose eyes are blood red in the darkest hours of the night, with raven black hair and huge, bat-like wings. No, if I was given the chance, I would that I was human. For, although their lives may be but a moment, they are full of happiness and ignorance. I wish that I were like them, so that I too, could live without the need to end another’s life to extend my own.
Once the transformation occurs, we are no longer able to resist the Bloodthirst, and are thralls to its will. Under its influence, I do things that sicken me in my hours of sanity. What we vampires do is so putrid, so revolting, that each time I am myself again, I swear to stop repeating these monstrous deeds. However, none can free themselves of this curse, and even if I were to chain myself to a wall, that would not stop me from taking part in the hunt. My kind is nauseating.
Without further hesitation, I jump out the window, extend my wings, and fly. I land atop the roof of my apartment building. From this vantage point, I look for a source to ease the unnatural hunger gnawing at my stomach. Though it is dark save for the moon, I see as though it were bright as day. No, better. It is as though my eyes are a thousand times sharper, more…aware of everything surrounding me. Suddenly, I see movement in a deserted alleyway, a perfect spot to feed. I hear a young boy’s voice call for his mother, a good sign, because I know the child is alone. The thirst for blood enhances my speed, and I descend upon him with inhuman swiftness.
I laugh bitterly; of course my speed is inhuman. I am, after all, a vampire, however hard I may wish I were not. The boy sees me closing in on him and screams with an intense and palpable terror. His face twists into a look of horror and apprehension, and his shrieks soon fill the night air. They are like music to my ears, filling me with an unmistakable glee. The joy of the hunt forces adrenaline through my body, and I smile at what is sure to be my next meal. Although I enjoy this moment at the present, I know that when I wake up tomorrow, tonight’s images will be ingrained upon my mind for eternity. Once again, I will have killed someone. I am already damned, but out of habit, I say a short prayer: God, have mercy on my soul. Then, I sink my teeth into the child’s neck, and revel in the luscious taste of blood. My heartbeat quickens, and I close my eyes in ecstasy. Delicious. This is what I was born to do.
A voice, my conscience, asks me; What are you doing? You’ll go to hell. I smile and whisper into my victim’s ear as he takes his dying breath, “Hell,” I sneer as I say the word, “Tell me what its like.” Then, I extend my right hand into his torso and rip out his still beating heart, licking off the blood as it flows violently down my hand. Feeling the joy of the kill, I laugh hysterically, and shout, not caring who would hear, “Welcome to the world of the damned!”
