The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

A sweet aroma of death and decay poured forth from underneath black boots, black patent shoes, black stilettos, black leather, black suede. Slowly, they shuffled forward in small groups, some trailing sluggishly behind, bringing a murmur of whispers and disarrayed leaves with every step.



As the scent of musky decay thickened the heavy air, stemming from crushed flowers brought to the dead from the living, a grey pallid wind swept through the cypresses, making her shudder with repressed irritation. She could hear them utter small noises of sadness, see them mimicking gestures of regret, and yet she knew what lay beneath it all. She could taste it. That underlying aura of contempt and bored indifference. They had come out of a warped sense of duty, unconsciously battling each other, like sheep in a pig-pen, trying to see who would win the incessant race to conformity.



The droning voices abruptly stopped as they arrived at the hearse. A slack-jawed priest took the stage, resplendent in black and purple, so hypocritical in his superiority, unconscious of the pathetic desperation present in his grasping condescending voice. On and on he preached about the beauty of the afterlife, describing it in terms aimed at convincing the flock it was simply a concentrated version of life as they knew it. More intense, more powerful, more meaningful. Behind a black gauze veil she watched them. All of them nodding and pretending to listen while obviously thinking of something else. Behind her dislike, crouched a hot white anger so terrifying that it threatened to envelop the sheer veneer of her existence and rip everything to shreds. Constricted by a smart black dress and en enormous hat, dreadfully chick in its simplicity, her claws sheeted by black gloves – she waited.



The spouse of the departed yipped out small short wails; cried over someone she never knew, showing something she knew she was supposed to feel. Even worse, she actually believed her own lie, thinking she was mourning a loving husband, a good father, an honest man.



Such perversion sickened the veiled stranger to the core of her being. For a stranger she was. Stranger in thought, though not stranger in blood.



The crystallized branches cracked and groaned around them as the priest went on and on praising his sanctified lie. It seemed the earth had not yet noticed that winter was condensing the sky, she noted idly. The fallen flowers were too luscious. Decaying sweetly like over-ripe fruit they burst their obscene fragrance all over her, while above her branches as arid as her heart moaned with the cold, chilling wind.



With a jolt, she realized that the bodies around her were moving. The litany had stopped and the mollified, sniveling voyeurs were slowly shuffling towards the carcass waiting in its brown box; brazen as a thirteen year old girl in its silent showy stupidity. One by one they filed in front of the dark showcase, ostentiously paying their respects. A handful of zombies masquerading as individual beings.



Slowly she moved forward with the rest, quietly elated.

Slowly the corpse of what once was came into view.

Slowly the mist of time started to part.

Slowly she lifted the veil and looked at the baggage of skin, meat and bones huddled in its eternal prison.



And just as slowly, she smiled.





***************************************





* This is for you Princess*



* May I unwrap it Papa?*



*Of course my sweet, I bought it especially for you. All the way from Spain she came. By plane and by ship. A long long journey. All to see you. Look at her lustrous curls and beautiful mouth. Isn’t she pretty? Almost as pretty as my honey-lips. Now, what do you say?*



* Thank you Papa*



*Is that all? Come on Princess, speak up. I’m an old old man you know – I can’t hear you.*



*Thank you Papa. It is a really nice doll. I like her very very much*



*Ah that’s better honey lips. I am glad you like her. Come, give me a hug*



*But… but*



*Come here.*



*Papa, I think mama’s come home.*



*No princess she’s at grandmas she won’t be home till late. Don’t make me angry now. Come here. Now. Leave the doll on the table.*



*Can’t I go play with her?*



*I said later. Don’t make angry princess. You don’t want that do you? Come here. Now*



*That’s a good girl*





*************************************





*Sweetheart. Sweetheart move away now*



She looked down and saw there was a hand on her shoulder. Her mother was behind her, looking at her with pleading eyes.



*Of course.*



It had started raining and she hadn’t even noticed. Her face was wet.



*Your father loved you very much you know*



*Yes, I know*



*All that he was, all he has given you, will be yours forever. Even though he is gone, he will always be with you.*



*I know.*



© Masque

04.02.2007