Status: slowly coming back to life.... after a long time away....
Until the End.
Calm before the storm.
The Irish sky was clear for once. No clouds, no rain. I had taken the opportunity to give the east coast a crisp dry night. This was my talent you see, I can control the environment around me. And this doesn’t just stick to the weather. But all aspects, human, animal, IT. My mind could control it all if I so wished. Luckily for the world and humankind I wasn’t once for world domination. But still this was why my family feared me. A twist in my mood and I could easily turn any situation dangerous. They had seen it first hand. It wasn’t my fist murder, and I although I hoped it, never doubted that it would not be my last. I was too volatile and thad constant issues controlling my mind . The humdrum life I had created helped, but it would never be enough.
I lay staring at stars in the field behind my small cottage. The grass was damp but I didn’t mind, it was rare that I got the chanced to do this. The stars were the same ones I’d had been looking at for near on 55 years.
Time, fashion, I.T. the world moves on but me and the stars, we stay the same.
Never changing, but watching as the world develops alongside us. The stars tell me things so long as I listen. I know that the stars I look at are the stars they look at. I trace images and patterns with my hand, letting my imagination run free, something I had not done in a while, I was too afraid to let myself be myself. For the time being I was peaceful, content in my own little world with nothing else to bother me.
After and hour or maybe four, I left my comfort zone and ventured into the small house I was claiming as my own. My mind was calling for food. Opening the fridge I felt like I was in an episode of True Blood.
“O neg or AB pos…” I murmured to the empty room before randomly plucking one from the fridge and heating it in the microwave.
Sitting at the table I took a slow drink, savouring my life source. My mind instantly became sharper. My senses stronger. I blinked once, closing my mind as quickly as it opened to the world. And relaxed into the chair as the bloodlust faded into the back of my mind.
I shut my eyes and thought of nothing and everything. I could feel something coming and I feared it. I didn’t want to leave my humble living arrangements. My steady job dulled my senses keeping the world safe. But this time was coming to an end.
As quickly as these thoughts flew around me a sudden blinding pain in my wrist sent my half empty or was it half full cup crashing to the table shattering and sending the masterpiece of crimson onto the floor in slow rhythmic drips.
It sent me gasping into a back straight sitting position. It had been so long since I felt it, felt pain, that I had forgotten what it felt like.
I slowly got to my feet savouring the pain as it slowly faded away. I fingered the long sleeve that covered my marked arm. I didn’t want to look but the urge was too strong to resist.
I jerked up my sleeve to see my tattoo , the link to my family that could never be broken. Instead of glowing its usual muted black and purple tones, it was a deep strong deep red almost crimson colour. I silently matched it to my spilt dinner on the table. The tones matched. This could only mean on thing, blood had been shed amongst the family. It meant one of us had died.
The wind suddenly began to howl outside the window as my emotions got the best of me. A roar of thunder matched my loud sob perfectly. Rain fell as the first tear did, and lighting hit, as I fell to the ground.
As much as I had avoided and hid from my family I never thought that any danger would befall them. As I watched the Deathbat slowly faded to its original tones. And as it did I calmed down. But I could feel the deep rooted anger towards the unknown maker of death.
Standing I let out a deep breath and shut my eyes, feeling the world moving past me. When I opened them the morning sun greeted me. The sea crashed against the shore. I walked to the door that I had dreamt about most nights for the past five years. Before I knocked it flew open. I slowly raised my eyes, moving them over the strong bare chest, over the FICTION tattoo that I knew well before meeting his icy blue eyes.
Eyes that were usually filled with excitement were now filled with anger and a deep rooted saddens.
Without me asking he asked my silent question.
“ Papa Gates is dead.”
I lay staring at stars in the field behind my small cottage. The grass was damp but I didn’t mind, it was rare that I got the chanced to do this. The stars were the same ones I’d had been looking at for near on 55 years.
Time, fashion, I.T. the world moves on but me and the stars, we stay the same.
Never changing, but watching as the world develops alongside us. The stars tell me things so long as I listen. I know that the stars I look at are the stars they look at. I trace images and patterns with my hand, letting my imagination run free, something I had not done in a while, I was too afraid to let myself be myself. For the time being I was peaceful, content in my own little world with nothing else to bother me.
After and hour or maybe four, I left my comfort zone and ventured into the small house I was claiming as my own. My mind was calling for food. Opening the fridge I felt like I was in an episode of True Blood.
“O neg or AB pos…” I murmured to the empty room before randomly plucking one from the fridge and heating it in the microwave.
Sitting at the table I took a slow drink, savouring my life source. My mind instantly became sharper. My senses stronger. I blinked once, closing my mind as quickly as it opened to the world. And relaxed into the chair as the bloodlust faded into the back of my mind.
I shut my eyes and thought of nothing and everything. I could feel something coming and I feared it. I didn’t want to leave my humble living arrangements. My steady job dulled my senses keeping the world safe. But this time was coming to an end.
As quickly as these thoughts flew around me a sudden blinding pain in my wrist sent my half empty or was it half full cup crashing to the table shattering and sending the masterpiece of crimson onto the floor in slow rhythmic drips.
It sent me gasping into a back straight sitting position. It had been so long since I felt it, felt pain, that I had forgotten what it felt like.
I slowly got to my feet savouring the pain as it slowly faded away. I fingered the long sleeve that covered my marked arm. I didn’t want to look but the urge was too strong to resist.
I jerked up my sleeve to see my tattoo , the link to my family that could never be broken. Instead of glowing its usual muted black and purple tones, it was a deep strong deep red almost crimson colour. I silently matched it to my spilt dinner on the table. The tones matched. This could only mean on thing, blood had been shed amongst the family. It meant one of us had died.
The wind suddenly began to howl outside the window as my emotions got the best of me. A roar of thunder matched my loud sob perfectly. Rain fell as the first tear did, and lighting hit, as I fell to the ground.
As much as I had avoided and hid from my family I never thought that any danger would befall them. As I watched the Deathbat slowly faded to its original tones. And as it did I calmed down. But I could feel the deep rooted anger towards the unknown maker of death.
Standing I let out a deep breath and shut my eyes, feeling the world moving past me. When I opened them the morning sun greeted me. The sea crashed against the shore. I walked to the door that I had dreamt about most nights for the past five years. Before I knocked it flew open. I slowly raised my eyes, moving them over the strong bare chest, over the FICTION tattoo that I knew well before meeting his icy blue eyes.
Eyes that were usually filled with excitement were now filled with anger and a deep rooted saddens.
Without me asking he asked my silent question.
“ Papa Gates is dead.”