Vampunk
sʇɐq ןooɔ ǝɥʇ ɥʇıʍ ƃuıƃuɐɥ
Blazing a trail through the mass of people that seemed to sprout from the street like a forest of blank faces I shudder. A cold blizzard raging inside my head as the freezing wind carries whispers of those I used to know, their words just as biting as the cold we had experienced on that cursed mountain. Pushing my tormented body, scarred from my inability to eat or sleep through the masses they turn to face me. Yet they all share the same face, the sunken eyes, frozen over with a thin layer of ice, their gazes judgmental as a stream of blood runs down their pale faces.
I do not linger, trying to get away from this forest of familiar faces, covered in ice and guilt. Their eyes staring holes into my being as my hot breath sends a misty haze drifting into the cold evening air. It reminds me of that day...those fateful days...
I did not want to venture there, yet they insisted. The snowy peak of the mountain beckoning to them. Yet I did not want to join them...
The avalanche that buried us in the caverns that made up the mountains core..
I remember their faces. Cold. Unmoving, Devoid of life they stared at me, buried under mountains of snow. I buried them there.
Only for minutes to stretch into hours. Hours to days.
I wished I had died there with them. To have been buried in a grave of snow and ice.
Yet I was spared the cold clutch of death.
I longed for it...But my body did not. Survival had always been every creature's main objective, trying to sustain itself, trying to overcome threats and to continue existing...
I remember cold fingers digging into icy graves. Retrieving what was left of my friends. Or rather their hollow husks.
I remember nail and teeth digging into lifeless flesh. I remember the metallic scent that filled my nostrils and spoiled my tongue, threatening to make me throw up.
Yet as much as my mind told me to let my friends rest in peace, or rather piece, my body did not obey. Survival at any cost.
And so it was, at first I wished for it all to end there, for me to succumb to the cold and finally pass on. But my body survived, sustaining itself on those who had failed to preserve their own life...
And then they found me. Bloodied, my mind shattered as a never-ending blizzard clouded my thoughts. They brought me back to the warmth of my home. Yet I did not feel the warm embrace of society. My every moment tormented by memory...and the whispers.
The whispers that made me forget what was real and what was illusion.
As I bump into a faceless figure on the streets, my ears deaf to their curses I stumble into a side alley, my back hitting the cold stone wall as I slump to the ground, feeling the numbness spread through my chest.
I remember their faces, their lifeless eyes as I stare at the reflection of me, shattered like the window that shows me for what I am...What I’ve become. My features gaunt, my eyes sunken and accented by dark circles, lips dry and face almost as pale as theirs...
My eyes stare at the reflection of me, the blizzard in my head carrying spiteful whispers and beckoning cries as I witness my shadow on the wall warp and contort, a twisted set of antlers bursting out of my skull as the tall, slender frame of me seems to stretch over the cold cement.
I exhale sharply, my breath just as cold as the night’s air, as the storm raging in my mind. Long, claw-like fingers meet my pale cheeks as I bury my face in my hands, feeling the weight of my sins weigh on me like the weight of my twisted horns.
I do not linger, trying to get away from this forest of familiar faces, covered in ice and guilt. Their eyes staring holes into my being as my hot breath sends a misty haze drifting into the cold evening air. It reminds me of that day...those fateful days...
I did not want to venture there, yet they insisted. The snowy peak of the mountain beckoning to them. Yet I did not want to join them...
The avalanche that buried us in the caverns that made up the mountains core..
I remember their faces. Cold. Unmoving, Devoid of life they stared at me, buried under mountains of snow. I buried them there.
Only for minutes to stretch into hours. Hours to days.
I wished I had died there with them. To have been buried in a grave of snow and ice.
Yet I was spared the cold clutch of death.
I longed for it...But my body did not. Survival had always been every creature's main objective, trying to sustain itself, trying to overcome threats and to continue existing...
I remember cold fingers digging into icy graves. Retrieving what was left of my friends. Or rather their hollow husks.
I remember nail and teeth digging into lifeless flesh. I remember the metallic scent that filled my nostrils and spoiled my tongue, threatening to make me throw up.
Yet as much as my mind told me to let my friends rest in peace, or rather piece, my body did not obey. Survival at any cost.
And so it was, at first I wished for it all to end there, for me to succumb to the cold and finally pass on. But my body survived, sustaining itself on those who had failed to preserve their own life...
And then they found me. Bloodied, my mind shattered as a never-ending blizzard clouded my thoughts. They brought me back to the warmth of my home. Yet I did not feel the warm embrace of society. My every moment tormented by memory...and the whispers.
The whispers that made me forget what was real and what was illusion.
As I bump into a faceless figure on the streets, my ears deaf to their curses I stumble into a side alley, my back hitting the cold stone wall as I slump to the ground, feeling the numbness spread through my chest.
I remember their faces, their lifeless eyes as I stare at the reflection of me, shattered like the window that shows me for what I am...What I’ve become. My features gaunt, my eyes sunken and accented by dark circles, lips dry and face almost as pale as theirs...
My eyes stare at the reflection of me, the blizzard in my head carrying spiteful whispers and beckoning cries as I witness my shadow on the wall warp and contort, a twisted set of antlers bursting out of my skull as the tall, slender frame of me seems to stretch over the cold cement.
I exhale sharply, my breath just as cold as the night’s air, as the storm raging in my mind. Long, claw-like fingers meet my pale cheeks as I bury my face in my hands, feeling the weight of my sins weigh on me like the weight of my twisted horns.