Moonlightaholics

Most of the time, he was drawn to the mortal flame, fascinated by the constant burning that powered the engine of humanity. He hovered around it, never part of it, but never far away. To the vampire community, he might pretend a grand disinterest in things mortal, but after four centuries, he knew better than to lie to himself. But now, as the torrent of her words flowed over him, Josef thought suddenly of his freezer. This warmth of emotions, of mortal life, was weighing on him, tiresome in all its noise and movement. Ah, to be cold, he thought. Cold was pure and quiet. Cold was a haven of peace.

In his younger days, he’d feared the oblivion that passed for vampire sleep. For a long time he hadn’t been fully convinced, each time he went down into the blackness, that he’d return with the setting of the sun. Now, though, he often welcomed the cessation of thought, desire, and thirst. The moments when he settled himself naked on the hard, frozen surface and pulled the lid closed, shutting out the world, were precious and sweet to him now.

librarian_7 wrote:Most of the time, he was drawn to the mortal flame, fascinated by the constant burning that powered the engine of humanity.