A Date At Midnight
By Preeti Gupta ©1996
She stepped forward into the cold air, wincing slightly as it stung her cheeks. Her throat was dry and sore, craving that small taste of blood penetrating her tongue and warming her from the inside. She ignored the dizziness as she stumbled against the hard stones. There was no question she was getting weaker. She hid her throbbing hand behind her back, hoping the wound would freeze. Another cold drop of life was about to leave her and slowly be absorbed by the dirt. It's taste in her mouth was the last one she would get.
She tried to block out the memories that still lingered in her mind. She saw the concerned faces with their voices surrounding her, watching as she drained that last drink. She needed something to fill her sore veins and to put some color back in her sunken cheeks. It was almost time. No one asked and she wouldn't tell them who she had chosen to give the rest of her life. He would selfishly accept anything she gave him, now that he knew she couldn't say no. It was hard to forget his cold, uncaring laugh, when he knew how easily she had been fooled. She clung to him, desperately wanting to believe he wouldn't let go. Death would not make her want him any less, but he would give her nothing in return.
What would happen to her soul once she didn't need it, anymore? The torn shreds could be used to feed the scared and restless damned humans, who were hungry, but desperately trying to grab the cold fingers of sanity, dangling teasingly in front of them. She knew she should have let someone hold onto it and keep it safe while she had the chance. But, she had let it slip from his warm hands and she had kissed the sore welts on his back for the last time. He couldn't protect her, anymore.
The burnt moon was the only thing warm to touch her skin. Its silver rays whipped her gently, but she couldn't feel them.
She imagined her grave, dusty and barren, stained with contagious blood and rain, left there to infect anyone who touched it. It was alive, wanting to be filled and ready for her fresh corpse.
She stood there waiting to be dragged down to hell and to feel the skeleton nibble her and suck her dry and scatter her remains over cold, wet, leaves.
She shivered as soon as she heard that low dead voice enter her mind like an unconscious sigh. He was there, dripping with cold fear and pain that others had carelessly spilled all over him. He held onto it, absorbing its energy that made him grow stronger. He ran his tongue over his thin wrist, licking up that human disease that he stole along with someone's soul and tried to hold onto it, before it dissolved inside him. He trembled for a moment, feeling excruciatingly alive and helpless. Soon, it would be gone and he would be dead, again. His eyes were deep, dark pits staring at her, pulling her into them, without blinking. The cold light of death was shining from hers, invading the darkness in his mind, as he shuddered softly to block it out.
His shadow fell across the cracks in her heart as they bled on her bare feet. It's mangled cage quivered and waited to be torn out and handed to him as her last gift. It was too late for him to burn new welts on to it. But, his tangled claws still squeezed every bleeding wound. His teeth were hidden so she couldn't see their permanent red stain.
She remembered touching his cold, thin, skin and feeling the hollow shell of his heart, beating roughly against her hands with only her life to keep it going. It swirled through the depths of his dead soul, waking his nerves up so he could feel her pain tearing through him. He wanted it to melt his cold exterior and make him feel human, again. The voices taunted her to let him go and he would just be a lifeless corpse on the ground, like he should have been.
Her hands grabbed the ground, pulling at blood, bones and dirt. Her last few thoughts were festering and dying, and one by one cringing on the ground. They looked up at her hurt and betrayed and she was too ashamed to answer their silent questions.
He wouldn't stay too long. Once she had been more useful to him. That was when the surface of her soul had been pure and untainted. Her veins had been full and ripe with warm blood ready to pour from them. He had eagerly taken it, wanting to taste the unconditional love that had once touched it and made it sweeter than what he usually expected. For months he had known what it was like to be part of her. But, now she was almost empty.
Why had he drained them so slowly? He had crushed them and made them sour. Now, they were lonely and hungry and screaming to be set free.
He smiled as he stripped her spirit, making it stand naked in front of his scornful gaze. He taunted it, waiting for it to break. He was eager to taste his captive prey. Th e bittersweet juice was close enough to touch. He gently ran his fingers over her brain, making it sparkle and tingle. He traced new paths through it, that wind and twist, but all lead back to nowhere. The cells gave in and came apart, dissolving. He demanded them for his own.
He had to turn away for a moment. His own hunger surprised him. He left the crumpled body on the ground, looking at him, begging him not to leave, wanting to feel his fingers slipping like warm water down her cheeks one last ti me. She ached to follow him, though she knew she would be abandoned on the way.
Finally, he looked back at her and smiling, held out his hand.
"Hello. I'm so glad you could make it. Are you ready?"
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Contact Preeti Gupta at: guptapre@msu.edu