Authors note: This chapter I wrote when I was less than with it. Ignore the blatant spelling and grammatical mistakes, I find they add more flavor to the writing anyway. Also, just think of this as poetry, in which there lies no rules. As well, don't plagiarize. If you can't come up with your own ideas, then don't write, and I know that using characters from other stories is considered plagiarism, but I am writing fantasy. So if I find anything on any site that resembles my writing, I will be extremely annoyed. Ideas I really don't care about, but the style is my own. I can't claim that this is an original since I've read many fanfics that have a similar concept. And Shiva is my own character, I use her in a few other stories I've written, and have her under copyright. Besides those, I'm just happy to make you happy. I like writing and I really like it when people tell me they like my writing, even if it's a lie….. . hehe…..good night, good reading!
Is this the wind that shall slowly stoke flames of desire? Upon this rock I ponder, yet again alone. Wonderful world, why do you steal from me so? What precious treasures I have that you do not? Please, my birth, tell me where it was from forth I came. Understand you not, but see your vision do.
I believe that when I die, the songs of the universe will ring true, through every dimension, tears and hearts will be mingling on the pallet of chests. Each owner feels resounding pangs of longing. I can feel it now, the tug of heartache in my chest. I don't know why I have such strong sorrow in me. Grief as festered and ugly as mine can not reside in one such as my self, so young and fragile, without causing emotional damage. Visions that I have seen, gruesome and disturbing, scare me and build the walls higher.
Loneness is solitude. Solitude is silence. Silence is sanity. With more passing days of utter solitude I find myself incapable of sharing a life with any one. I would rather run and hide than try to love again. Pain is a major deterrent for any action. If falling in love didn't hurt so much, would we all be happy in love with some one? Would our debilitating fear of sorrow not exist or inhibit us?
I try so hard to imagine what life with another would be like. Images of happy families eating dinner together, the husband and wife smiling as they eat their perfect meals. Each precious laugh, every cherished comment, they all radiate joy through open windows. Some how, those scenes bring a sick smile to my face.
I can imagine my self there, some how completely invisible to the subjects of my interest. I am silent, so quiet the dogs hear nothing. I can't help but get up into that aura of happiness. My skin tingles as the heart warms my skin. My cold damaged skin shimmers dulling in the flicker of embers. Just close enough to reach out and touch the back of their necks, but not close enough for them to notice. It would be so easy, to just slip and enter into this vessel of life. Everything in this room was spilling over with radiant life. Glowing around them, flowing through their veins.
Oh how I wished to be part of the flow, to mingle with the current and be swept away in crimson treasures. My actions are swift and agile, professional perhaps. No sound was made; nothing dropped from its place at the shock of my interruptions into their security. They needn't worry about my membership to their close knit pack. I was only fleeting, and as their eyes only witnessed a blur of my existence, all memories of me faded with the slipping time. I slowly drew back, the suction of pleasure pulling me back to my accomplishment.
Slowly I drew the sword that I had wedged into the boy's neck. He had only twitched; even his giddy smile remained on the now bluish face. Each had remained in their banquet seats, non-the wiser to how they had been snatched away and replaced with empty mannequins. It was my duty to make sure that the dawn happened after the dusk, and that life was always balanced. I was the reaper, a stealer of souls. I lusted for the colour of blood, the distinct smell or taste. Always metallic in ones mouth. This was one family that amused me till the end. I had cut the parents necks so precisely that the blood hadn't had a chance to spurt; it just leaked so quickly that asphyxiation was immediate. The best had been how those dopey expressions had remained on their faces. This was why slaughter was worth while, for the facial expressions were always original. This had been the night where He had watched from the shadows, patiently seeing if I was worthy. He had commanded lighter tasks, but felt this was the true way to ascertain if I was as murderous as my reputation.
He had been there for weeks, watching, unable to resist me long enough to leave my side. After every battle, in which I would kill hundreds, he would lunge on me, pinning me to the ground underneath him. Low growls that would rumble in his chest, each rolling expression of lust, would send shudders down my spine. Memories of our passionate first encounter were still ghosts on my flesh. I could feel whispers of his touch, feather light fingers trailing along my neck to wrist. Slowly, every inch of my body had been explored by licks that continuously alternated between rhythmic licks to long trailing traces of the end of his tongue.