Here I am again, lost in thought in the simple forests outside of a small village in the hills. There is no sound in the inky darkness; gentle winds barely let go a whisper. The warmth is tempting, begging me to strip and dive into the cool clear waters of the passing river.
As I sit, I notice how every little noise in this forest belongs; the only sound I find that doesn't is my own. It sounds alien in this peacefulness, the soft steady breaths feeding me life.
I can feel the moon, pooling its luminescent light upon my skin. Tiny patterns playing across my face, like glow flies in the summer fields. As the moon's light is reflected in shattered pieces of its full force, tiny fish appear below the water's surface. Each one lost in its own world, fighting to survive and live another day. Each morsel of food is potentially a last meal.
The balance between life and death amazes me. Fragile, yet stronger than anything known to man. We can not recreate this balance, as we are just another pawn in this twisted fateful game of chance. Nothing is preplanned except the fact that we shall all die.
"We all die one day, not knowing when is half the fun."
The words seem to me as if I shouted them, yelling at fate, trying to sway the balance. Maybe I'll be allowed a few more years grace, maybe not. I shall never be able to predict the moment I will die, nor do I know where we go after we die. Is it somewhere special, designed for each individual? Or perhaps we all end up on the same conveyor belt, heading towards the same damned fate we had on earth. Nothing seems to be right, and every thing I see eludes me. I see only ghosts of images I believe to be there. What do we truly see, and what do we all truly want?
"Arg, why is life so complicated for damn mortals?"
I can feel the soft mossy ground succumb to my weight as I lean back. It squishes and conforms to my body. Soft tendrils of grass gently fold around my curves, lying upon my sides and arms. The ground is moist, but not unbearably so, just enough to cool my burning flesh. Why do the summer nights have to hold onto the day's oppressive heat?
I haven't had one good night of killing for weeks. No point in moving very far when I would only get too hot to bother hunting my prey. I really miss the hunt though; the taste of blood in the air simply drives me crazy. I need to get out one of these days or nights…of course nights, why the hell didn't I bother with nights?
Of course, no fun to hunt at night, everyone is asleep. Lying here is going to drive me nuts soon.
"Screw it, I am fucking getting up right now and going to find some one, anyone to kill."
This time I really did scream. Frustrating emotions boiled inside of me, fuelling my desire to kill for pleasure. I don't believe I have ever experienced anything as satisfying.
His light touch sent ripples of pleasure up and down my spine, my flesh begging for more. Never had anyone touched me in such a way, never had anyone made me moan like he did. My body craved his, the curves of his strong arms and the pulse of his heartbeat. I wanted nothing more than to have him inside of me, filling me with his warmth, satisfying my lust.
Well maybe I have, but that was a long time ago, and things have definitely changed since. I was no longer a silly little girl, filled with the glory of love. I was a ravaging beast, filled with a lust for blood and slaying. The sword was my pleasure now, each stroke better than an aphrodisiac. The feel of steel in flesh was indescribable. I could feel the heat rise from deep with in me, memories of past excursions sent waves of pleasure through my body.
"Tonight, anyone who dares cross my path pay head, whether demon or man, I shall slay until my hunger is satisfied."