You lie there in the dark
Once more awakened
By the sound
Of distant muffled thunder
Wondering what you
Will do now
Because since you
Got your life back
Things are not
What you expected.

You have no home, no family-
At least none that you know of.
Those that you
Once tried to call friends
Don't wish to know.
Otherwise,
Wouldn't they have
Found you by now?
All you have left
Is your Grandsire.

You thought him dead
Still you followed the rumors
Until you found
Yourself face to face
With him in a dark alley
At high noon
In a town called Dodge
Where high noon
Once meant something –
You with your face
Peeling from a sunburn,
Him cautiously avoiding
The killing sun.

Relieved, you told him what happened
After a different alley
Where you fought at his side.
Of how you woke alone one evening
To the sound of
Of distant muffled thunder
Before breaking your nose
On the bathroom door
Of the cheap hotel room
You were hiding in.

Because when your
Life came back
In your sleep
Your poor eyesight
Came with it.

Your grandsire stared at you
As you told your story.
Of winning the race
Without even knowing
What you'd done to win,
His angelic face blank in the
Dim light while the
Sound of distant muffled thunder
Echoed in your ears;
The sky a perfect blue overhead.

Out of the shadows
He interrupted you,
"My son is dead and you live."

You stood there in the sunlight-
You did not know
Such a thing was possible
What he was, what you were...
Impossible!

Joyfully your mouth
Led the way, not gloating
As you would have
Before- though you'd
Finally beaten
Your grandsire
At something.

His voice
Came from out
Of the shadows
"My son is dead and you live."

Son?

The skinny boy who
Joined you at the end?
Who went down first?

His son?

Your mouth rattled on
The light blinding you.

Out of the darkness
Came that voice,
"My son is dead and you live."
As your grandsire in a sizzle
Of flesh grabbed you,
Pulling you into the shadow,
Showing you what your
Prey once knew as he snarled
Into your ear,
His breath bloody,
"I signed away everything!"

You screamed as the
Bones in your now
Fragile
Human arm
Effortlessly snapped in his grasp.

Glasses askew,
You landed in the dirt
Of the alley
Trying not to scream again
As your grandsire
Looked down at you
In a halo of oily smoke
Against the clear blue
Of a high noon Kansas sky.
Smoldering, he kicked you once,
As he stepped over you
And back into the shadows;

His retreating footsteps
Echoed off the high brick walls
In counterpoint
To the sound
Of the distant
Muffled thunder
Of your beating
Human
Heart.