Lost

The Baptism of Blood. With which I am inducted into the realm of the undead.

It’s not as glamorous as it seems, this eternal death. This losing of myself, falling headlong into an enveloping darkness I cannot escape. I don’t know how I’ve retained my sanity… or if I really even have.

I’m only drifting along, aimlessly, wandering to nowhere, floating on the tides of red… letting the waves wash over me and push me gently along… drifting through the river of blood.

Is this… my blood? My victims’ blood? Victims? Have I… even if it comes naturally to the unclean as myself, I had thought I’d be at least able to remember it… have I… stolen this blood? Have I drunk the life of another from the goblet of vampiric lust?

What… what are you saying to me? “Lift up your glass, now, a toast!” Quiet… I will not drink that. I will not steal the lifeblood… I will not drink of this iniquitous cup… I will not, I will not, I will—I have. Oh, how it satisfies my defiled flesh, and how it revolts my ensnared soul! It is horrifying! It is loathsome! And oh, how I yet find myself lusting for more!

What is this horrible bloodlust that has entangled me? What is this fate worse than death I now know! Don’t come any closer! Don’t come near me or I shall…

…lose myself again…

…and once more witness…

…the Baptism of Blood.

Prose practice, character composition for unknown, by Elizabeth Chin 11-28-06