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How to define life when I’ve had but one tender lick to its flavor perfection?
How to bestow my grace without a sin to influence my blessings?

Find me grace, find me sin.
And to implore sympathy, I forfeit the last drop that condemns my sanity.

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Submitted:Dec 28, 2011    Reads: 93    Comments: 3    Likes: 0   

This here is a story I've been working on; it's my first-so don't hate it if I'm inexperienced kay;)

Do not be afraid. he would lie through the hallow of his throat. It won't hurt.
Lies. What a peculiar word it seem to me now. A past, a memory, an illusion. Nothing more than that.
But in life, or in death, there are those scars that punish us for our sins. There was that mark that would never allow me to forget, a scar that reminded and aggravated me for what my purpose of life signified. There was no gash, there was no bruise. In fact, my throat looked as smooth and shaded tan as any skin surface would look.
But the feeing… It reeked as if it were still masked with blood, like a stained shirt, it would never be white. But in theory, this was not a piece of cloth I could simply crumble up and throw away. I would have to coexist with the enemy that remained silent.
In the matter, I would never hate myself. I did at first, for allowing myself to be drawn to teenage curiosity. When you are young, you undergo through the hardest stages that life has to offer. You know right from wrong and it is the moment to decide to which of those two families you belong to.
Yes, as it might be expected, I allowed Serena to beckon my keen nature into one harmless step over the perfume of the demon weed. Though, that wasn't exactly what dragged me to my ordeal.
There was one young man in particular. He was part of our small group of adolescents and rappelled his entranced so desperately. Some, judging by his character, thought him to be and alcoholic or something. Oh, they were so wrong.
That was the last night I saw daylight as a mortal.
It wasn't hard to ignore the pain, the smell. No, but it was hard to forget.
Gradually, my palm began flowing up and rested over where his fangs had fed. I wouldn't look down, I couldn't would be more precise. I knew what was coming.
To keep part of the pain away, I looked of into the distant horizon. We were on the edge of winter, but spring was beginning to string its roots into the mountain trees. It didn't hurt as much when I felt the ends of my nails claw themselves into the wall of my collarbone. The air was moist and serene here.
"January, please don't do that anymore. Don't hurt yourself, not for him."
I tilted my head upwards; gazing to the skies. Night would soon fall and the moist pine scented air began to smell with the fragrance of my blood.
"It's where he…"
Another cold hand rested on my shoulder. "I know, no need to repeat it."
"But it disgusts me." I hissed.
She remained silent; seeming to be opening her mouth to say something and then shutting it back up ruefully.
"I'll have to go back…someday." I whispered. "I'm not running for the rest of my miserable life."
"Jan think about this," she stepped to my right. "to Alec's knowledge, you could be dead, you know that."
"And you think I can just walk to the nearest town and continue my life like a normal person-it doesn't work like that. He stole life Serena, my sanity-and who knows what other intention he had with me. Who knows how I managed to get away or how I've been able to survive this long. Maybe he already knows I will come back to him and guarantee that whatever fear he saw in me, died that night along with me."
She tilted her head down in surrender.
I exhaled out one long gesture. "Forget what I said Serena, let's just get the hell out of here."
I broke into a run as I darted for the trees, I could hear the mute footsteps that fallowed behind.
As night fell, so did we. It was Serena's turn to scout our sleeping grounds and I was in no condition to have a conversation. After she had paid the motel room, I was already two steps ahead of her. She came into our room and locked the door behind her where I supposedly laid sleeping. It seemed as though she wanted to say something. She wouldn't speak up-not because she thought I laid unconscious, but because I knew it was a conversation I would never spill. Much less in a place like this.


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