In cold blood
By DALIA B.10thD
It was the dry obscurity of one dark, wet night; the steep paralysis of the cold wind, tying the packs of leaves through the damp of the November fog was disconcerting; a thundering scream breaking the piercing silence of the gray night rumbled; the noisy fear burning till dawn, suffocating the running life vibrating through my thin veins reverberated.
His grumpy face , disfigured by a deep desperation, suffering of steady hate, hate for all that a human being means. The ‘violent’ craziness of his icy expression screamed from all his denied existence the burning wish of killing. All the cold and hallow looks, begging for a bloody massacre; the hunger and desperation of blood and the painful dust of satisfaction, satisfaction that is given by a heart-rending scream of distress.
There was a threatening growl made through all the damned whispers of the famished creatures of the bright scintillating darkness present in the incentive silence…
Run…Run…I was running…and then…
I was lying on the shaky floor, because of all the sour ache of my broken legs, which was cutting off my fragile breath. The aching was due to my falling on the slippery stairs when running away from the fuzzy creature who craved for my desperate screams.
One slender, old-fashioned and beautiful man grabbed my arm and raised me up. I felt my own weight crushing down my legs. With a majestic jump the eternal gorgeous man was above me and stopped the crazy creature, who tried, with a hissing scream to assume my head as his own. His considerable strong arms held my back over the bumpy floor, and his long blonde hair fell over his broad-shouldered back. It all became clear, a frantic shrill sound came from behind the door that he had closed behind us, and within a few seconds we were closed (trapped maybe?) already far away, inside a huge, gothic bathroom. He instantly prepared warm and perfect water. The dirty wounds made by torture were all healed by this mysterious, Victorian historical man with some plant oils from his closet.
When I was finally ready with my never-ending bath, the numerous wounds were still bleeding, but the real pain was in my voiceless soul which was traumatized. He gave me something to sleep, and bandaged my broken legs. I was terrified and crawled breathless to the other side of the silky black bed. He came very quickly and took me in his tender embrace to reassure me and said with an old curved pronunciation: “I know, you are afraid of me, too. But I will not hurt you. I missed having someone to talk to for so many cursed centuries. That silly creature, I didn’t want it to escape or hurt you. Please accept my excuses, milady. But to be certain, for these several wonderful moments with you…I don’t regret anything at all.”
The massive door flew wide open all the way across the room. So I would run away, but I couldn’t. The Blond man jumped to his feet with a theatrical expression on his face, took me in his arms and took a leap, his head first, right through the multicolored window. His misconstrued face was full of cold blood, so while he was running I tore a stripe of the white tight silk-dress I was dressed in and started to buffer his face and head. I surrounded his straight long neck with my arms and I threw a silver thyme , which I stole from his bedroom, with an enraged reflex at the dizzy creature. It seemed like it burned it up and destroyed it on the spot. It worked like a charm or maybe a spell.
I had not felt the sweet exhilaration of the sharp situation for a certain time, but then I could finally feel it, in his powerful arms. So, I decided to return the service and therefore I took courage in saying: “I’m Alice, nice to meet you. I want you to come with me to see the world together”. He blushed, but seemed surprised, smiled and went victoriously straight ahead. Then, looking back to me he said: “I’m Louis. Nice to meet you, too, mademoiselle. It would be my pleasure to go with you and protect you, your whole life.”