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| The Beginning of the Dawn There are moments that you see truth and you have no idea how to tell others. Even when the truth is not real, it exists, but that's another essay. For now, here's a very short entrance to a very short story, which will, someday be finished. But the idea is there, if you look. |
| "What have you done to me?" "I've let you feel life. The pain, the burning, the rush of blood, a body of light struggling always to get free and the walls of cells, parasites, feeding off its fear." "You've killed me" She turned back to face him. Even now she was fading, the dream of truth dissolving before knowledge could take hold. "No. I've set you free......" |
| The images danced before him once more. First a flower, then a smile, which spoke without movement. "What draws us to a rose is not its scent, not its hue. It's the promise of pain. An equal exchange of blood and hurt for a symbol of love so pure in its short-lived grace. To think you capable of making me happy without scars places me in a hothouse. Let me love your wounds, let yourself hurt me. There is a purity in decay, a natural tendency to Live, not merely watch, untouchable. If you love me, hold me, but never tenderly. For we are all vampires..." |
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