The Thorns of the Rose by Any Other Name-4

Midnight's Story:1

After lifting the blinds, I made my over to the digital clock. Tor it out of the oven, then threw it across the street. It fell the five stories, then hit a car. A few curse words were conversed between me and the man below. He lost. I cheated. End of human contact. 2

I put on my coat. Black, go figure. Then made my way to the roof. I was quite invisible to the watchful eye. Sure my pale skin tended to radiate, but I hid myself deep within the folds of the black coat. 3

And there I was, the creature from the books, overlooking some big town. Cloaked in black upon a roof. Sure, I feed, only on lowlifes or over pricey snobs. That detective was lucky I was out to make an alibi, and not out for dinner. HE WAS THE DEFINITION OF AN OVER PRICEY, LOWLIFE, SNOB. Lucky him. 4

The police had dropped the case. I, on the other-hand....well, I killed that temptress of course. Followed by a blaze of flame for the clan. I knew it was wrong. To kill my own kind, but she killed something more dear to me then the fact of what I am. What am I? A seventeen year old vampire, sitting on this roof, living without time and human contact. Have I found more of my kind? No. 5

I sighed and looked down upon the city. Nobody in these parts. Nobody worth killing at least.The man with the car slid through my mind. But there would be witnesses. People saw our fight. It wouldn't be the brightest idea, and I really didn't feel like moving. 6

I've learned to love the extra things I'm capible of doing. Like this next feture. Running extreamly fast. No, I cannot fly, turn into a bat, or stray from crosses. I wear one everyday. Well. It's more like embedded into my skin. 7

About the secand year of being a vampire, I hated it. Hated myself and tried to starve. Too bad some homless guy had to go off and make me mad. There he lay drained and dead, lingering feelings of a witherd heartbeat to my lips still traced my mind. He lay dead, I, full of blood and bright eyed. This homless person had a trusty knife, so in a stupid human attempt to kill myself, I sit my wrist. I healed instinly. I got mad then stabbed myself repeatidly. My clothes became tatterd. my skin stayed flawless. Then ripped my neckless off, an ebony cross wrapped in silver thorns, and then took the nife to my wrist again. The silver burned the wound keeping it open long enough for me to place the cross in my skin. The pale wound then sealed itself. Slowly, and I screamed in pain. Of these silver thorns, ripping and knawing at me. The silver is like poisin to my kind. It finialy closed around the cross. Thus my name became Thorns. I then ecepted what and who I was, killed a man, and never looked back. 8