My name is Ligeia, and for over eight thousand years liquid cowardice has coursed through my veins. I am faithless, and a traitor. I left my family ages ago for a life that seemed as though it would benefit me. In this moment I doubt my existence, I should have stayed with those who believed in purity. I should have formed stronger bonds with the light, because the darkness never fades. 1
This disease flows thickly from lesions on my wrists, onto the charred ground beneath me. Its black shade is reflected on the moon, a dark harvest for the gathering of souls. Shrieks and screams echo in my ears, and the stench of death begs me to breathe deeper. Fear, I smell it; a fright that is not my own, on a night where my pride cannot be taken from me.2
Fire, it shines in my eyes. The torch I hold in my left hand lit so many houses ablaze, they deserved it. Those children, those families, so happy and comfortable in their homes. What did they do wrong? Nothing, of course. Feeble-minded fools! Nothing is all they ever do, and fight is something they won't. They don't question the boundaries made for them, so I have no choice but to set them free.3
I am next. My flight, it is before me. I run from these buildings, the ones I have destroyed this night. I leave behind me a desolation, and I have no remorse. The light that could have aided me in seeing now blinds me, it scorches my eyes until sight is not possible. All I see are flames, dead bodies: my prey.4
I hide in the shadows, in the forest, behind trees. I live in the darkest places of the Earth, the places no one dares imagine. No one looks for me, I do not exist. I am a part of the night, the wind in the trees, a howl to the full moon, a leaf that flutters to the ground. I leave behind no traces of my perpetuity, apart from my cold, pale body; and the fire, the flames, all about me. The wind whips heat until bright red surrounds my being, and crimson surrounds the blaze. 5
I will sleep in my cave, at the end of the woods. This is where I belong, my garments pulled closely around me while I burn and bleed. I will die 38 times this night, and my screams will be useless. My flesh will ignite, and my cowardice will drip from my body to the forest floor. This disease still runs through my veins.6
I wonder, how many times will I die tomorrow? How many lives must I take to sate my thirst, tame this wild hunger? I will cringe as the sun rises, and destroys the beautiful black of my moon. Wrapped tight in my cloak I wait for another night, where I can kill and be killed, drink and destroy. What innocent is next? What will they pray for, knowing of their imminent death? Will they ask for light? Will they think to avoid the shadows? Time will tell. 7
They know of my ever present darkness.
Comments
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I truly think this is brilliant.
I love the image of liquid cowardice running through veins as blood. in fact the imagery throughout the piece is great, as well as word choice and emotion.great write, must bookmark.......
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I really did love reading this, in fact i couldn't stop, why am i the only one commenting right now on a piece full of well written words and a deep insight in the mighty soul?
I loved the ending... only time will tell, it just left you standing on the cliff of hesitation...
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