I know you want me to write about a dark, foreboding atmosphere; but that simply isn't the case. Sure there was an unusual amount of cloud cover for August, although the sun still shone bright in the sky; blinding all who braved to look.
The heat would murder all who wore black, so as it was I knew it would be my greatest achievement: suicide by sunshine. I could see the headlines now.
It was my mood, the same dark nature that I had had for as long as I could remember. That Gothic edge that oozed from me when I refused to wear colour - it kept the blood hidden. Those deliberate claw marks from nails long since removed and gnawed. Gnawed as much as the dreamscape of my subconscious; the place where I was a spector, a ghost and ghoul, a thing that longed for flesh and yet was repulsed by it.
I was a vampyre in my mind. But they - the two who kept me - seemed to feed off me. They were all the reminder I needed; that I was a monster. Damned bones and a damned soul; I was nothing but the undead, an unnatural being. I was condemned to a loveless eternal life, condemned to burn in the shining glory of another. I had been gnawed, eroded and consumed.