Conversations on the Rooftop

[Vampyr]

Conversations on the Rooftop

The vampire leapt from rooftop to rooftop in single bounds. His black leather boots colliding with each roof with an incessant thud, sliding several feet before his thighs produced enough energy to propel him back into the air. He would then continue to ricochet off of rooftops, his speed increasing with each leap, growing to an eerie and unnatural crescendo. Now he was merely a blur…his black coat flapping in the wind behind him like the tail of a comet or like smoke slipping off of some organic running fire.

This was the closest he got to flying during the day, and there wasn’t much daylight left. The sun was dropping ever lower in the west, and he jumped in a perpendicular path ever northward. He had to be at his destination by nightfall, or he would be late. This moment had been such a long time in coming that he would not be late.

He reached the rooftop he was searching for with nearly ten minutes of sun left. He was moving with such a ferocious speed that he nearly missed it. His leathered feet slammed onto the cement ridge around the roof, and he groped at it with his hands, catching himself before plummeting to the street below. His fingers had actually penetrated the cement when he caught himself, and he pulled them out and dusted the stony crumbs from under his finger nails. He looked down at the street, and waited for her.

“Are you going to do it?” A voice echoed his thoughts.

The vampire slowly turned his head, blinking at the completely black creature sitting next to him. It was incredibly smooth, and looked to be carved from obsidian. It had two sunken pits for eyes and no mouth, but somehow it still spoke to him, keeping its black laminated orb-like head bent over, staring at the street below.

“Do what?” The vampire said.

“Kill her,” The demon replied.

“I’m not going to kill her…just give her a new life. She’ll be like me then.”

“There is no such thing as ‘new life’, and I would hardly call what you have life anyway. Your veins won’t even pump your own blood.”

“Well then maybe I’m not doing it for her life. Maybe I’m doing it for me. I’m known to be selfish.”

“And why would you want what you are about to create? You hate being what you are, yet you would so carelessly pass it on to another.”

“I only hate myself because I am alone. If there was someone to share this life with me, then maybe I could enjoy it. I think the same could be said for her.”

“I know what you’ve been doing…” the demon said slyly. “Traveling the world over, looking for the perfect female to transform into a creature like you.”

“And I found her. She is perfect,” the vampire replied with a hint of pride on his voice.

“Ah. How ironic the world is…you are like the maiden.”

“The maiden?” The vampire inquired.

“Yes…the maiden, do you not know the story? I’ll have to inform you then,” The demon started the story, “A young maiden walks through the courtyard of her castle. She is of olive skin and emerald eye's...truly a rose among her kind. She possesses a kind of beauty only surpassed by Aphrodite herself. The maiden looks about her, enjoying the calm of her garden and the beauty of the surrounding plants. She slowly and delicately makes her way the nearest flower bed. Her very presence bleeds innocent feminity. She smiles at the variety of flowers...roses, tulips, and gardenias. Her eye's play God with the flowers; judging each one based on the favoritism of beauty. If beauty is truly in the eye of the beholder, then she is the beholder.

The tips of her lips turn up ever so slowly, molding a soft smile of feather down. The golden shafts of light from the sun filter down through the heavens, grazing the maiden and her flowers. But even the sun cannot compete with her beauty, and her cold analytical observation of the flowers continues. Her brown auburn hair dangles ever so lightly around her face, enclosing her ears and caressing her neck like angel fingers. Truly the loveliest of the reaper's hoods. Her soft white hands show themselves. They flutter like angel doves, reaching out from her noble sleeves; they are the unknowing scythe. The maiden has made her selection. She has spotted the most radiant and finest flower of them all. Her hand trembles slightly, weakened by the pure color and beauty of the creation. But it does not tremble in remorse or mercy...it trembles in excitement. The tips of her fingers gently cup the stem of a bright white rose about the midriff, and with a gentle tug she severs the flower's lifeline, rewarding its beauty with death.”

The vampire’s jaw was clenched tightly when the demon finished his short tale. “But…I love her…” He said with shame on his voice.

The demon sniggered. “Love. That word has been abused by humans for so long and used far too many times. It holds no meaning anymore. It’s like money…after you have produced so much of it, the value goes away, and there is no doubt that humans have said the word “love” too many times.”

The vampire glared at the demon. “I feel for her, and I refuse to be alone…” His voice trailed off. “I’ve been alone for so long you would think I would be used to it by now.”

The sun had finally set, and right on a cue a young woman began her walk down the street below the building. The vampire looked to his right, where the demon had been. His shadow was gone now that the sun had set. He rocked slowly on top of the ridge around the building. His wings had sprouted since the sun had set, and they seemed unable to decide whether to fly or plummet down to the street, and slay the girl. His feet kept rocking as well, unsure on what to make of the situation. Then he closed his eyes and made the decision.


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It would be cool if anyone who is interested and reads this to analyze it for me. It's a short story I wrote the other day, and it's one of the more deep and thoughtful pieces I've written.