by Christos Polydorou
When I was a vampire, I sucked the blood out of a lot of people. And then I fell in love with a beautiful woman called Cecile. I found her climbing through the moonlight, trying to escape through a silver hole in the sky. I climbed after her. Are you a silver fox? she asked. Her voice was like a punch to the heart. No, I am just trying to bring you back. She seemed genuinely moved anybody noticed her trying to escape, in the first place.
Cecile was dextrous with whale bones, and buttoned up her one thousand buttoned boots in seconds, but her real power was her intelligence. Her father was so rich, so he spent all his disposable income on books. Her family had books the world will never know of. Because of this fortune she was uncannily insightful. One night a few weeks after we fell in love,
we were lying in bed, Cecile said to me, Why is your skin so cold, even though I can love rose beds to rose bushes, sugar cubes into wedding cakes, and sharpen the knife, that lives in the human heart, to a fine gleam? Because I am broken like glass, my love, I replied. Why is it, that you prefer meat so rare, so blue? Because I am a beast, for you, I replied. Why is it when you kiss my neck I can almost feel your teeth sharpening?
I did not reply.
Are you lying to me? Cecile asked.
But you are not that which you say you are, are you.
No, I am not.
What are you.
But I couldn’t tell her.
I took my things and left.
I walked away.
I wandered into the wilderness.
I was drawn into the desert.
And when the day came.
And when the sun rose.
Cast in the hot sunlight, I died.
At least I didn’t have to hear Cecile’s crying in my heart anymore. It was too much, to bear.
I didn’t dare turn around.