He licked his lips, chapped in the crisp night wind. He could feel the special chill in the air tonight, as he sat in his usual perch. The darkness of the night seemed to seep right into his midnight blue velvet cloak. The silver clasp on it sparkled just a bit, as he turned from the city landscape to face the sea to the left.
Why aren't men tired? Why do they resist me still, after so long?
He sighed and pulled his cloak around him a little bit tighter. The lead-lined garment did little to alleviate his chill though. He was never warm after his rebirth. It was one of the curses. A small nuisance, claimed his more experienced friends. But he still yearned for the comfort of a blazing fire. The feeling of warmth, seeping into his body, where his heart used to reside.
Its so different from what I had imagined. Why didn't you notice it, when I first cried? Why didn't you notice it, when I repeated it so many times in front of you? You simply turned away from me.
He blew into the night air, looking at his white breath clouds with a tinge of amusement.
And now it's time for me to turn away from you.
chiiyo's comments :
I wrote this with the intention of actually populating my freewrite log, but it turned out pretty well, and became the first of my various vampire-inspired writings. He isn't a particular character, although I stole the look of his cloak from a friend's writing, because I adored the "lead-lined midnight blue velvet cloak with a sliver clasp in the shape of an owl" look that he wrote about. I like writing about vampires and angels, and people who are cursed to never enjoy some form of enjoyment we all take for granted. It is precisely because they have such faults and yet are so exalted, which make them very sad characters.