The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

To the slayer
00:03 Dec 26 2010
Times Read: 466

My favorite rows...



Sitting in the graveyard, I watch how ghosts fly across the night.The rain runs down my cold neck, hiding the marble dots of your fangs, the scar which sold my vitality and doomed me to eternity.Loneliness is my only friend, since you left me that day when we first met, here, in the graveyard, me searching for love and you searching for blood.Can I see your scarlet eyes again, can I fell your demonic grab on my waist and your icy lips cleaving my throat? Are you now in another graveyard steeling the warmth of delicate virgins, changing them in empty shadows like me? Sorrow revealed to you the worthlessness of the ruby liquor which you desire so desperate, so come back to me my eternal slayer...

En route to the Masquerade
08:21 Dec 23 2010
Times Read: 470




I am walking on the lead-coloured pavement. By every step dead leaves are floating underneath my feet, being adrifted helplessly towards their doom. I amble to the middle, and sit on an empty bench. The grim sight calls forth a sore feeling in me. Where is the sweet sunshine, the sky-high giants why are all dead? I cast a glance at the empty swings, and remember the day I was here for the first time. I was sitting behind the swings on a shaded bench and crying my sorrow to the old oak, and he bent protectively over me, drawing a smile on my face. The boardwalk bathed in vivid light, cheery bees bumbled in the air.The old trees sparkled keenly in the sunshine, and while birds on their shoulders were trolling soul-stirring trills, they shook archly their crowns, if the wind adjures them for a dance. The playground was crowded with chattering children, but no one knocked through the silver-coloured pavement. The puffing of the cars seemed to be so far; quiet noise stroked my ears, while I was listening the nature’s spell-binding symphony, where bees were fiddleing, trees playing the piano, and birds accompanying with flutes the shiny laughters of the chilrden.

At the time I was still a child. I grew up by now, and the majestic summer scene slid away. Instead of the glittering sun there is only a pale, dying spot on the sky, staring sadly after the escaping summer. The shoulders of the trees are are empty and bald, as the trilling elves are sweeping in infinite stripes towards a better future. The old oak shakes sleepily his rusty leaves, strewing them, like a drowsing powder, on the abandoned playground. The wind brings thousands of pins on his back, killing softly the dear giants with them. A bitter smoke is diffusing in the air – probably this is the reason why the pavement is knocking so often and loudly. By the benches there are squating puffy piles of leaves, each as a tiny grave. A black stray dog sleeps near one, dreaming about summer, lemon-squash and love. Swooning people walk under the bald trees, without observing the falling time. A starving spider hurries near my feet. I stare at him, enchanted by his turquoise eyes. I would like to pick him up, but he disappears under a cigarette stub. Meager mosquitos appear in the cool air, searching hopelessly for some food. A grey pigeon brushes above the trees, and I realise, that I have to go. I take the shiny mask out from the deep of my bag, and step into the Autumn.