The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

Always...Etched in...
06:42 Jul 12 2009
Times Read: 597






I am isolated, isolated in my own pain. The beautiful, delicate vines of the rose that have seeped across my body like a cancer has spread tumors across my mind. Everyone suffers pain even if you do not see it, the scars are there, hidden beneath their skin. Somewhere, beneath the scars that pain itself has etched into my mind, I can see logic fluttering beneath scratches. If everyone suffers pain, surely it is inevitable? Surely that must mean I am not isolated? Surely the memories seem to slow even as the pain only grows stronger. It's like I am watching the dreams through my eyes unnecessarily fake and unreal, but reflected in these eyes. The fragile wings of the logic has fluttered, and I realize that I am still isolated. It is only me that bares these memories. Yet as the vines grow I understand, and lose myself in feelings.



I will gladly endure this red, white hot sparks, the screams of stone against stone, thorns against soft, raw flesh, pain by bearing this stain of thorns, roses that twine across my skin blossoming deeper, burning in my soul. I try. I have nothing left in life, desolate calls of despair, beautiful, destructive bolts of black and white across my thoughts. I try to keep my thoughts from him, whose name seems to have burned it’s way into my mind and with it came so much longing, so much need, we should have never met. I must keep my eyes unclouded. There must be no remembrance. But still I wish for one more glimpse. The contours of his face. His eyes lost in mine. It must not happen, forbidden for a reason I wait over this longing and try to forget by burying you in pain. But I’ll dream of him in the dark, seeing him through this painful haze. These thorns that pierce my flesh and hold me here for eternity. Even the scratches etched onto my body like the rose thorns around me can’t destroy my dreams of him. I just wanted to see him one more time. After all, I'm muttering mindlessly.



I was alone. I was in pain, so much pain, but there was still hope. By bearing this stain of thorns, roses that twine across my skin blossoming deeper, burning in my soul. The corroding pain was still there, lingering from my dreams. It was part of me, devouring me. A little of the pain receded. There were dreams I should not have brought here. I saw him run to me, almost touch my out stretched fingers. Almost. Until the blots of logic raged through my mind. He is not here. I am simply delusional, but if my fingertips can touch his deep in the recesses of my pain, let me be lost in those false shades of madness please. The threads of my thoughts spindly and decorative like my rose thorns and all of them lead to him…



The dark shadows of my mind place will embrace me, their arms will never be as warm as his but they are welcoming, they are as peaceful as he is forever and final. These feelings are sincere and false, blotched and broken logic, decayed by raw emotions rushing through my veins. His phantom stares down at me, his familiar face fills the abyss of emotions within me with long forgotten old ones, warm and kind like the summer in the streets of that night we used to walk. My chapped lips twitch, trying to reenact a simple gesture that was common when we were together before you. That's when I feel it...my world crumbles, and I've lost it all. A soft thump echoes, and his eyes widen in shock as he slumped.



Now there was blood. So much blood. He falls. He was really here. He is really here. Fallen. Dead. Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead and empty, he was here. His sightless eyes stared into mine, always staring. I couldn’t look away! The pain! The Despair! The longing and grief! No! It was too much! It wasn’t supposed to be like this!



Pure, raw emotions, rage through me, shattering everything to pieces. Everything that remains are sharp, cold and bitter, like the shards of a mirror. Flaming, red, shards of anger to stab and bleed, to hurt and scar these pains on me who has allowed this to befall him. That's when I realize I'm lying besides him, all the rage of the world throbbing inside of my lungs. His eyes are empty and mine have been tainted like how his soul has been infested with a cruel hollow stare, a cruel, lost abyss with an eternity of purgatory hidden behind it, skin that tastes of nothing. His eyes are empty and mine have been tainted… His corpse is splattered across these rose thorns that are forever etched into my skin. They are forever inflamed. I stare at pain itself, no escape from this deep truth that is clawing through me like needles at skin tissue. Somebody please! He’ll always be there, he's always been here, the face I always wanted to see is burning me.



Always...Etched in...

Inhuman
20:38 Jul 09 2009
Times Read: 630








Vines and thorns scratching, entwining, and cutting. I realized than a true vision, a precious moment, my only dream meant. It can make me feel so much more alive looking at you and wishing you were there. To me, searching for what I was, who we were, where I was to go. I find myself alone, the rune of the stakes were already there. Remorse is like this dull noise of the hammer hitting me. The sound of hammer striking metal sounded sharply in darkness, splitting the heavy air, again and again. Like a deadened nerve which never calms down, my body’s arching under this sputtering noise. Immured fluid beauty, in my fragile body of ruins, like a vase, I fall asleep. Between reality and nightmares, my shadow’s dissolving deep down inside me. A preeminence that enhances my soul with all the different lives I lived. There, beauty takes form only at dead of a shadow.



It was life without a dream. Slowly seeping my only dream, the thoughts and memories that were etching in that keeps the moment always in my eyes, etched in over and over. It was as if impalement was the means seeing beyond my eyes. To where the inner beauty I behold. More than just a yarning for what I have lost. It’s reality that I have such thoughts. For so long, etched in into me, I was completely rotting deep down and grew to hate the pain. I could do nothing but stare in horror at the sight before me. I’d been wrong, oh how could I have been so wrong. Over and over, it starts over again. It was supposed to be over, it has started again. I am trapped between a nightmare, and the reality. I sleep when I wake, I wake when I sleep.



It was almost inevitable that the rune stakes would slip from my nerveless wrists and ankles as I realize that I was meant to. But it was also inevitable a man would find me bound to the ground, more towards the depths of my soul. I know he is real, approaching me in my deepest agony. He found some faded memories of a daughter long since lost. Dressed in the darkness of convening roses. “Why are you here before me with such feelings of regret?” I asked, and his voice banished the darkness more then his hands had undone pulling the stakes to set my hands and feet free, and I gave a small smile to grace my lips. He learned that words can cut deeper than any sword. Leaving wounds. That no man could ever replace or afford. Again, I stared into his beautiful blue eyes. Just getting lost in what’s inside, it’s like as if it was when I look long into an abyss, the abyss looks into me, and then I come to realize. I started crying



It was the first time in my life I felt forgiven like I was saved. Like his warm embrace around me, freezing cold to the touch yet I remember his warmth so long ago. It melts the frozen snow as if it were the breath of spring. The tears wouldn’t stop.



It was literally like a dream, it’s as if there were some things that I can’t explain. But one thing I knew that’s true. Is that forever I’d be with him. There were times when without knowing why, before I know it. A flower blooms, and dreams that came and went. I even saw her reflection in the moon. A sister whom I have came to love and dear so much more then ballet almost. The day we met, my emotions were sure to fly. Both she and I finally made that special tie.



But despite that, I thought only of them till the very end. Yet I, the shadow that dwells among the abyss. Is as well the same that emits that sound. The sound that holds them in a state of bliss.



If that is the depth of my love. Then I reached that edge so jagged and jutting. To their sweet little moonbeam who dances. I remember the look, the feel, the touch, the love with my delightful glances.

07:06 Jul 09 2009
Times Read: 633

I was in a large room. You stood in one corner next to the welcoming bed, your features barely visible in the dim light of the fire place. You were waiting for me. Everything about you was welcoming me over to the spot where you stood. With seductive grace, I made my way over to you. My heart thumped loudly in my chest. As I drew closer, I lifted my face so that my lips were less than a centimeter away from yours. I felt your breath quicken as I gently placed my hands on your bare, shoulders. In a smooth and inviting voice, I spoke directly to your lips. “Are you tempted?” I was so close that I could feel your warm breath on my lips. I could feel you wanted to kiss me. You wanted it so badly that I could feel your need pulling me closer. I let you think you could have me, allowing you to feel a desire for my affection so great that you might die without it. Just as I thought you might melt into my arms, you embrace me.



My breasts pressed against you yet even in the cold room you stay warm. I move down to kiss you on your lips. You put your hands on my hips, and kiss back softly at first and as we get more into it our tongues begin to enter. We kiss passionately and deeply as our tongues enter each others mouths, and the sensations of it are mind numbing. Quickly and efficiently, my soul burnt with the same heat as between my legs.



Our bodies nude as nature intended yet inside me is something beyond. You kissed me and each time I felt your lips touch the sensitive flesh, pleasure fills me with such deep yearning for more. The scent of you acts as an aphrodisiac to me and you enter me. Lust overrides everything in my mind. I wrapped my legs around you as we get closer.



I felt a great climax build in my body that I couldn't resist

no more, you bite me. Your fangs sank into your throat, something I was thought painful, yet it felt powerful...I felt you were strong...Everything grows dark...I passed out moan...

20:54 Jul 07 2009
Times Read: 653






My lips are eternally sealed by crude threads of black. The rich crimson liquid has nowhere to go. I swallow it down, blood sticking to the incisions.



In what appeared to be my own blood, I had written two ominous sentences on the maple polished wall.



“My mouth is cut, stained with love. Underneath you dripping blood, I drink.”



I listen, and hear nothing. Furious that he lingers so near, I smile. They hope my silence will pacify the darkness…



No one answers…

I, the danseuse will slice my lips, and let the love flow.

I, the danseuse am alone…

Requiem For A Dream
05:06 Jul 06 2009
Times Read: 670

I had strange vague dream this afternoon, and this moment keep lingering in my head, so decided to put it here. I can precisely remember the whole thing but these words stand out more than others. A strange dream that consist memory, vowed to each other and separated by the minds, and these thoughts actually come from the moments from the dream. The dream itself had some air of sadness, as if I came back to the man due to the memory lost...I highly suggest you listen to "Requiem For A Dream" by Clint Mansell while reading my dream.



https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gUtCnARxWxQ



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~





This nightmare was once my dream, my passion, but not tonight, the feeling upon my breasts felt like stakes cutting through my flesh.



The air is heavy tonight, filled with cold expectations. I feel the hour upon me. My juba presses into the valley of my spine, and paralyzed by the mind in down, burdened like my soul.



What does this mean to me? Desire is what it used to mean, but those are empty words. I realize now, with reluctant clarity after nightmare after nightmare that beauty is a mask I wear. A visage of dreams. Desire is also why I stumble onward, silent with terror and clinging to those feelings, they will soon impale me with.



I shiver in the wake of its breath, my eyes widen like a startled dove. I tried to move. A stake over my palm and ankle. I winced, the ones in my palm already cutting into my skin.

Again... again

That moment always in my eyes

Etched in over and over...

Again…again



that moment always in my eyes always….



The stakes sank into me. Deep, but not deep enough. I felt them pierce the flesh and crack the bones.



The stakes… the memories of this dream...him

I realize...I must be a dream

….etched in…etched in…. That moment always in my eyes

My memory…



The stakes that are pound through my skin allow an intense heat to tear through my skin, the same comfort, him along my skin allow me to feel.



The memories of this nightmare...the shattered...dreams...

It’s my fault… I called him… ... always…

Again... again

I realize...I must be a dream



Would I wake if you walked into my dreams? Would I scream out your name, if you walked into my dreams, and turn it into a nightmare?



Where are you now? I yearn to see you, to touch you, to put my arms around you, and embrace. I want to breathe the very wind from your body that warm breath of air that fills me with almost savage love.



I wish for many things. I want you here beside me with longing as fierce as rage. I wish for you as one wished for the moon to smile, an impossible wish, a lustful wish. If I could just feel your heart beat beneath my palms. If I could hear that voice as I sleep. If I could experience these things one last time, my surrender would be world while. A dream of passion and yearning. What passion is this? What privilege? I am blessed this day? This day of all days…



All my life, this had been my nightmare. Just before I hit, my body started violently. I woke to find him caressing my cheek. “What’s wrong?” He asked. “What did you hear?”



“Nothing. A nightmare.” A phantasm of my mind, one that threatened me with those thoughts came to me when I was impaled.



“You weren’t completely asleep.” “That’s when I…That’s when it always comes.”



“The past?” He pushed a strand of my dark purple hair away from my face.



“Yes.” Shivering, I wrapped myself around him.



He might look like the devil, but he sounded as if he cared. I kissed him with all the desperation of a caged animal, losing my passion like an avalanche on him.



Yes. This was my memory, my dream. I recognized his taste.



He consumes me, swallowing my breath, my will. He burnt me with his fever, and behind closed eyes I saw eruptions of crimson and gold, flares of exploding heartbreak.



Because we were alive. I’ve never been so alive. This man, who had shown me delight above all else, had saved me from death, brought me here to this perfect place, and now he wanted me. Wanted me.



Welcome to hell.

The Spell
02:49 Jul 05 2009
Times Read: 687








Hurry. Hurry.

He would know. He would come for her.

Hurry…



When it came to darkness, she was a coward. She knew it. The night she’d curtsied, she’d come awake to the touch of a man’s kiss. Just a kiss, tender, curious, almost revenant. In the morning, she’d thought she had dreamt it.



But tonight’s darkness would be different for the ballerina upon the stage…



Worse, desire made her hallucinate.



She thought someone stood in front of her on the stage. Someone who breathed hot breath on her neck.



With infinite care she turned her head to the side.



Her nightmare stood there, fierce and dark, staring into her chocolate eyes.



“You would dance alone…rather than for me?” He asked.



“What do you think?” Her insolence was instinctive and misplace.



His need was greater, and he touched her, loved her, with an edge of violence sharp as a knife. Yet always he saw this ballerina’s tragic beauty dancing and welcomed her into his mind and her body.



He twirled her around the stage, and picked her up, moving her around into thin air, then spanned her waist with his hands skating up and down her laced thighs, pushing them apart till he got to her ankles, snapping cold metal around her fragile ankles.



The ballerina looked down at her ankles, staring at them, then stared harder, trying to believe the proof before her own eyes. The cold metal on her ankles wasn’t heavy, but chained as bracelets, but leather and ornate black bracelets.



He watched as she tried to dance though chain connecting the bracelets allowed her little grace, his mouth curled in a smile. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”



He picked up one of her ankles, tracing the wolf. “See this? This is me, and see this?” He ran his finger over the moon. “That is you.” Still she stared at the exquisite ornaments on her ankles, trying to comprehend more than just words…



When she did, she looked up at him, and laughed.



The moon beat down on her shoulders. The breeze caressed her tutu. Beneath her he writhed. Inside he stretched her to the limit. He was a beautiful animal, with long, wiry muscles, and strength in his big hands. Lifting herself onto her toes, she slid a leg around his hip as she done in ballet.



With a jolt, reality returned. She thought he was beautiful as he bucked beneath her, fierce, undisciplined, wild with passion. Yet always she sensed his desperation, and welcomed him into her mind, and body.



He pushed aside the lace, exposing her to the cold. “You dance for me…naked.” He pressed his palm between her breasts, feeling her heartbeat. “You’re so alive. You make me remember…”



“Remember what?” He asked, holding her wrapped in his arms, clutching her as if she were his salvation. She embraced him, her arms gripping him against her chest, her legs clasped around his hips, giving him herself absorbing all his ardor, all his need, knowing this was a dream and wanting nothing more.



When he touched the inner most core of her, they both froze. Darkness held them in a cocoon of passion and emotions stretched too tight for comfort. Then their passion flashed bright enough to light the night.



Tomorrow she would rise, and he would be gone. She would go on stage, another day spent in ballet.



So she wept.



He caressed her face with his fingertips found her tears. “No. Don’t do that.” The tears only flowed more quickly.



He kissed her. Kissed the dampness from her cheeks, her lips, her throat. He kissed as if they hadn’t made love only moments before. He kissed her with passion. He kissed her with intent. Finally she forgot to cry, and remembered nothing but desire that broke her heart.



Then he said them, the words that moved her from sorrow to rage. “I will never let you go.” He knew very well the beauty held within the ballerina, too, that she had gifted him a piece of her soul. He, like a wild beast giving its trust for the first time, answered. “I remember…” Taking his hand, she led him onto the stage. To it seem as if the universe had shifted, become a place where the rules no longer applied and fresh bright hope, long snuffed, now sprang to life.



He was right.



But no mere man flouted the darkness of the ballerina without fearsome consequences…