angel-san
01-02-2009, 08:14 PM
I awake from my slumber, but this time it was not from a nightmare. Listening to the night wind made me feel a bit better, as if it calmed my soul. “Why did I wake up,” I asked myself. Just then, I heard it again, a light tapping sound on the balcony to our room. As soon as my eyes adjusted to the darkness surrounding the room like a blanket, I now saw a male figure on the balcony. My heart began to race, and it started beating faster and faster, like an urge to see what lay behind the French doors. My heart was beating so fast, I was blushing, and I knew it. I had forgotten what it is like to have a crush on someone. However, I have never acted like this toward a guy before. I feel light on my feet, and anxious to see what was beyond the French doors. Without knowing, my left hand was on the lock. How did I get to the door so fast from the bed without knowing that my feet dragged me here? Bracing myself, I unlatched the locked door and peered out on the balcony. There he was, the figure from my dream, looking at me face to face. What made me stop in my tracks was how beautiful he really was in person. For the longest time I have wanted to know what this male figure looked like in my dreams, and now, it seemed like it was a dream rather than reality.
From head to toe, he was as mysterious as a CIA agent with the all black clothing. However next to him a CIA Agent looked like crap. His black hair was a tangled mess of loose curls that was just undone from a ponytail. Eyes are beautiful and gorgeous as a gem in the morning sun. But his green eyes are as wondrous as the eyes of a kitten; however, if you look close enough, there is a faint hint of gold. My eyes keep going back to his eyes, where I can not stop looking. It is as if they have a pull that I do not know of and I am eager to go to him and to run my hands through that beautiful mass of black hair. This man makes me crave the night, like how some people are addicted to chocolate. His body is gleaming white, like snow in the winter, and the only thing on his massive chest is a leather jacket. A pair of black jeans and thigh high boots completed the outfit. The best I could do for myself is to not to drool massively, but as a door slammed behind me, I was shocked with fear.
"Please, do not scream. Do really want to wake your Aunt, I think not. I came here for you, so please, come with me for just a bit," said the vampire. “I do not go anywhere with strangers, especially strangers who are as beautiful as you are,” I commented back. “Okay fine,” grumbled the vampire impatiently, “My name is Lord Damian Vincent, but you may not remember me,” he added angrily. “Lord,” I thought to myself with a questionable thought. The name seemed somewhat familiar, but I was not sure, just not yet indeed. Why did I all of a sudden feel this nostalgic desire to hold him in my arms and to tell him sorry for what I just said?
I walk to the French doors to go back inside to go back to sleep when Lord Damian Vincent stopped me. Even though it was just a casual touch on my shoulder, for some reason, that simple touch made me feel comforted. So I put my arm down from reaching the handle, and I let him touch me ever so gently. “I’m sorry,” he said apologetic. Immediately his hand drifted away from my view, however, I desperately wanted him to secure his arms around me and to never let go. What is happening to me, and why am I acting so calm around this man that can twist the sinews of my heart?
Slowly, I started to walk away when he spoke to me again, interrupting the quiet and blissful night of the gentle breeze. “Please come with me,” Damian pleaded. “Grand,” I replied. He looked confused; puzzled by my remark, but then a light smile appeared on his face. Gathering me in his arms, he said something in my head, which I thought was just a hallucination. However, it was him because I recognized his voice immediately. Even though I did not know what he said, it was like a beautiful melody, only in French. Within minutes, I was standing next to him in a graveyard, which seemed nostalgic. Like I have been here before, and there is something I should not forget.
Lord Damian sat on top of a box like name plate, which was beautiful in a way. I went to him; however, I hesitated to take his hand in mine. Running my hand across the marble box, my mind immediately went blank and I lost all connections to reality. “What is happening to me,” I ask myself as the past comes back in a rush of images and short movie clips. I remember this graveyard, this name plate that I was running my hand over. I crouch on the ground and brush off the old debris that was on top of the gravestone. Without looking at him, I said, “This is your grave, is it not?” “Then if it is your grave, then how come I can see you,” I added.
Lord Damian Vincent sighed, and before he could say anything, I pick myself up from the ground and dust off the grass stains on my pants. “I am not a ghost if that is what you mean,” he remarked. “Then how come I can see you,” I think to myself, bewildered. Lord Damian did not want to mention that he was a vampire, for that would complicate things. He did not want to resort to that. However, Rose would find out eventually. As he was searching for an answer, Rose ran her hand on the nameplate. That simple touch made a chill go up her spine, but did not stop.
“Call my name, and I shall return,” she read the old English text. Then the pieces came together in a rush, like a tide rushing on the banks of an island, and the only thing it hits is the shore. “The reason I brought you here,” he said, “is to tell you the truth of the death of your parents.” “How do you know who my parents are,” said Rose, defensive, opening her eyes from the adrenalin rush of short movie clips inside her mind. “I remember awaking after someone had spoken my name. It was refreshing to wake after a century of sleep. I needed blood to satisfy my thirst.” He stopped in mid-sentence to look at Rose’s reaction, and it was nothing but just a calm facial feature. “I came across an accident that looked recent, like it happened within minutes after I went by. The blood called to me, that was your parents, and I could not help myself. However, they were dead, and they would not wake, so I took their blood.” Rose was now disgusted with his confession of blood being sweet beyond anything living or dead. “Just who is this man that craves the blood of the night,” she asked herself.
“Later, when I found you Rose, you were at your Aunt’s house. I wondered if she was your mom, but when I frequented your house late, I heard discussions about your parents and their death. I found out it was a car accident, and it was then I realized it was your parents that I took their life,” he finished. Angered by his words, I could not tell Damian I was mad at him, but I was not. Mom and dad were dying and he just took the pain and made it go away. I wanted to be pissed, outraged that he did such a thing, but I was not. Strange, I thought to myself. “You are not mad at me,” he asked, his head cockeyed, like a dog that wanted to have its ear scratched. “How can I be,” I replied, “you helped by relieving them of their pain. For that, I want to thank you.” He looked at me odd, like he was trying to read my face. “Do you want me to prove it,” Lord Damian Vincent asked. “No, I believe you,” I replied with a half smile.
Nothing was said for quite a while, as he stayed in his spot, unable to move an inch, as if it would hurt. I looked down a car path that went past the cemetery, and something about the road seemed familiar. So I started walking down the path, not looking at him at all, and stayed conscience on the road ahead. When Lord Damian finally noticed I was not around, he freaked out and started calling my name. At this point, I was standing in front of an old Victorian style house that was rundown, as if no one had lived here in years. A memory returns, and it is one with my parents chasing me in the front yard, with mother’s lilies that had just blossomed. A tear runs down my cheek, and I just remembered, that this house is where I grew up with my parents. Familiar hands are on my shoulders, as if it was my brother trying to make me feel better. I turn around, and it is not Riuki, but Lord Damian. Kicking and screaming, I end up crying in his arms and on his chest. “It’s okay Rose, let it out,” he said in a hushed tone.
Crying seemed helpless and defenseless, but what else could I do? My mind did not want to register and all that mattered was to see my family again, but it would not happen. They were in heaven, and it seemed I was in a niche of hell that I could not leave, for if I tried, I would end here again. After crying for what it seemed like hours, Damian Vincent dried my tears with the back of his hand.
I walked into the house, and it seemed like I just got home from school. “I’m home,” I shouted, knowing no one would respond. However, in my mind, I see Riuki and mom running towards me with arms wide open, accepting me, and dragging me into the other room, where they showed me what they did earlier that day. “You okay,” he asked, bewildered. I started walking up the stairs, and a clump, clump underneath my feet reminded me of the nook under the stairs where I used to hide when my twin brother and I used to play hide and seek. “There is nothing but memories here, so why did I come?” My answer was staring at me when I looked into my old room, where I saw a picture of all four of us smiling. Right beside it, a locket was placed, as if it was put there recently. The dust that was built on top of the locket I blew off and opened carefully. It was a picture of mom and dad. Mom probably put it on the table next to my bed when she sang to me for the very last time. “She’s beautiful, just like you,” Damian added. “Shut up,” I told him with my eyes closed, trying to remember everything about her. No success.
The locket hung delicately around my neck, and as I looked at myself in the mirror, I saw my mother’s ghostly image come out of my body at that exact moment. Damian was right; I did look like my mother. Only, there was one more theory I needed to test. I went into her old bedroom and Damian followed. “You stay here,” I said at the doorframe to the room. “Why,” he asked, looking confused. “Because smart one, I am going to change, and I do not want you peaking,” I rebuked. I locked the door behind me and went to the closet, where once upon a time I watched her dress. Her dresses were still there, and I could not believe it. My favorite red dress of my mothers hung on the hanger, waiting for me to do the inevitable. I took off my clothes and tried on mom’s dress that she wore around the house all the time, waiting for dad to return to take us out for dinner.
With just a thought of his name in mind, Damian Vincent appeared behind me, like in a dream. “Wow,” he said, looking shocked. “You look so beautiful, deadly, and gorgeous,” Damian added. His body seemed to get closer with every sway, every inch, until our bodies were so close, that only clothing kept us apart. Looking into his face, Damian’s eyes were dark green and a hint of gold, making his eyes like a diamond in the rough. I close my eyes, and next thing I know, his lips met mine. As passionate as a gentleman, and silk rose petals on a finger, this kiss was deadly as a leopard waiting to strike; however, it was just as dangerous and beautiful. Fireworks were going off in the background, and at that moment, I knew that we were destined to be, since all I think of were his lips on mine and I did not want him to stop kissing me any time soon.
From head to toe, he was as mysterious as a CIA agent with the all black clothing. However next to him a CIA Agent looked like crap. His black hair was a tangled mess of loose curls that was just undone from a ponytail. Eyes are beautiful and gorgeous as a gem in the morning sun. But his green eyes are as wondrous as the eyes of a kitten; however, if you look close enough, there is a faint hint of gold. My eyes keep going back to his eyes, where I can not stop looking. It is as if they have a pull that I do not know of and I am eager to go to him and to run my hands through that beautiful mass of black hair. This man makes me crave the night, like how some people are addicted to chocolate. His body is gleaming white, like snow in the winter, and the only thing on his massive chest is a leather jacket. A pair of black jeans and thigh high boots completed the outfit. The best I could do for myself is to not to drool massively, but as a door slammed behind me, I was shocked with fear.
"Please, do not scream. Do really want to wake your Aunt, I think not. I came here for you, so please, come with me for just a bit," said the vampire. “I do not go anywhere with strangers, especially strangers who are as beautiful as you are,” I commented back. “Okay fine,” grumbled the vampire impatiently, “My name is Lord Damian Vincent, but you may not remember me,” he added angrily. “Lord,” I thought to myself with a questionable thought. The name seemed somewhat familiar, but I was not sure, just not yet indeed. Why did I all of a sudden feel this nostalgic desire to hold him in my arms and to tell him sorry for what I just said?
I walk to the French doors to go back inside to go back to sleep when Lord Damian Vincent stopped me. Even though it was just a casual touch on my shoulder, for some reason, that simple touch made me feel comforted. So I put my arm down from reaching the handle, and I let him touch me ever so gently. “I’m sorry,” he said apologetic. Immediately his hand drifted away from my view, however, I desperately wanted him to secure his arms around me and to never let go. What is happening to me, and why am I acting so calm around this man that can twist the sinews of my heart?
Slowly, I started to walk away when he spoke to me again, interrupting the quiet and blissful night of the gentle breeze. “Please come with me,” Damian pleaded. “Grand,” I replied. He looked confused; puzzled by my remark, but then a light smile appeared on his face. Gathering me in his arms, he said something in my head, which I thought was just a hallucination. However, it was him because I recognized his voice immediately. Even though I did not know what he said, it was like a beautiful melody, only in French. Within minutes, I was standing next to him in a graveyard, which seemed nostalgic. Like I have been here before, and there is something I should not forget.
Lord Damian sat on top of a box like name plate, which was beautiful in a way. I went to him; however, I hesitated to take his hand in mine. Running my hand across the marble box, my mind immediately went blank and I lost all connections to reality. “What is happening to me,” I ask myself as the past comes back in a rush of images and short movie clips. I remember this graveyard, this name plate that I was running my hand over. I crouch on the ground and brush off the old debris that was on top of the gravestone. Without looking at him, I said, “This is your grave, is it not?” “Then if it is your grave, then how come I can see you,” I added.
Lord Damian Vincent sighed, and before he could say anything, I pick myself up from the ground and dust off the grass stains on my pants. “I am not a ghost if that is what you mean,” he remarked. “Then how come I can see you,” I think to myself, bewildered. Lord Damian did not want to mention that he was a vampire, for that would complicate things. He did not want to resort to that. However, Rose would find out eventually. As he was searching for an answer, Rose ran her hand on the nameplate. That simple touch made a chill go up her spine, but did not stop.
“Call my name, and I shall return,” she read the old English text. Then the pieces came together in a rush, like a tide rushing on the banks of an island, and the only thing it hits is the shore. “The reason I brought you here,” he said, “is to tell you the truth of the death of your parents.” “How do you know who my parents are,” said Rose, defensive, opening her eyes from the adrenalin rush of short movie clips inside her mind. “I remember awaking after someone had spoken my name. It was refreshing to wake after a century of sleep. I needed blood to satisfy my thirst.” He stopped in mid-sentence to look at Rose’s reaction, and it was nothing but just a calm facial feature. “I came across an accident that looked recent, like it happened within minutes after I went by. The blood called to me, that was your parents, and I could not help myself. However, they were dead, and they would not wake, so I took their blood.” Rose was now disgusted with his confession of blood being sweet beyond anything living or dead. “Just who is this man that craves the blood of the night,” she asked herself.
“Later, when I found you Rose, you were at your Aunt’s house. I wondered if she was your mom, but when I frequented your house late, I heard discussions about your parents and their death. I found out it was a car accident, and it was then I realized it was your parents that I took their life,” he finished. Angered by his words, I could not tell Damian I was mad at him, but I was not. Mom and dad were dying and he just took the pain and made it go away. I wanted to be pissed, outraged that he did such a thing, but I was not. Strange, I thought to myself. “You are not mad at me,” he asked, his head cockeyed, like a dog that wanted to have its ear scratched. “How can I be,” I replied, “you helped by relieving them of their pain. For that, I want to thank you.” He looked at me odd, like he was trying to read my face. “Do you want me to prove it,” Lord Damian Vincent asked. “No, I believe you,” I replied with a half smile.
Nothing was said for quite a while, as he stayed in his spot, unable to move an inch, as if it would hurt. I looked down a car path that went past the cemetery, and something about the road seemed familiar. So I started walking down the path, not looking at him at all, and stayed conscience on the road ahead. When Lord Damian finally noticed I was not around, he freaked out and started calling my name. At this point, I was standing in front of an old Victorian style house that was rundown, as if no one had lived here in years. A memory returns, and it is one with my parents chasing me in the front yard, with mother’s lilies that had just blossomed. A tear runs down my cheek, and I just remembered, that this house is where I grew up with my parents. Familiar hands are on my shoulders, as if it was my brother trying to make me feel better. I turn around, and it is not Riuki, but Lord Damian. Kicking and screaming, I end up crying in his arms and on his chest. “It’s okay Rose, let it out,” he said in a hushed tone.
Crying seemed helpless and defenseless, but what else could I do? My mind did not want to register and all that mattered was to see my family again, but it would not happen. They were in heaven, and it seemed I was in a niche of hell that I could not leave, for if I tried, I would end here again. After crying for what it seemed like hours, Damian Vincent dried my tears with the back of his hand.
I walked into the house, and it seemed like I just got home from school. “I’m home,” I shouted, knowing no one would respond. However, in my mind, I see Riuki and mom running towards me with arms wide open, accepting me, and dragging me into the other room, where they showed me what they did earlier that day. “You okay,” he asked, bewildered. I started walking up the stairs, and a clump, clump underneath my feet reminded me of the nook under the stairs where I used to hide when my twin brother and I used to play hide and seek. “There is nothing but memories here, so why did I come?” My answer was staring at me when I looked into my old room, where I saw a picture of all four of us smiling. Right beside it, a locket was placed, as if it was put there recently. The dust that was built on top of the locket I blew off and opened carefully. It was a picture of mom and dad. Mom probably put it on the table next to my bed when she sang to me for the very last time. “She’s beautiful, just like you,” Damian added. “Shut up,” I told him with my eyes closed, trying to remember everything about her. No success.
The locket hung delicately around my neck, and as I looked at myself in the mirror, I saw my mother’s ghostly image come out of my body at that exact moment. Damian was right; I did look like my mother. Only, there was one more theory I needed to test. I went into her old bedroom and Damian followed. “You stay here,” I said at the doorframe to the room. “Why,” he asked, looking confused. “Because smart one, I am going to change, and I do not want you peaking,” I rebuked. I locked the door behind me and went to the closet, where once upon a time I watched her dress. Her dresses were still there, and I could not believe it. My favorite red dress of my mothers hung on the hanger, waiting for me to do the inevitable. I took off my clothes and tried on mom’s dress that she wore around the house all the time, waiting for dad to return to take us out for dinner.
With just a thought of his name in mind, Damian Vincent appeared behind me, like in a dream. “Wow,” he said, looking shocked. “You look so beautiful, deadly, and gorgeous,” Damian added. His body seemed to get closer with every sway, every inch, until our bodies were so close, that only clothing kept us apart. Looking into his face, Damian’s eyes were dark green and a hint of gold, making his eyes like a diamond in the rough. I close my eyes, and next thing I know, his lips met mine. As passionate as a gentleman, and silk rose petals on a finger, this kiss was deadly as a leopard waiting to strike; however, it was just as dangerous and beautiful. Fireworks were going off in the background, and at that moment, I knew that we were destined to be, since all I think of were his lips on mine and I did not want him to stop kissing me any time soon.