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Ramblings of a Lucid Madman


painted the morning’s canvas above. Bream made feeding rings in the small pond beside the
alabaster stepping stones leading across it. Shimmering dew drops clung to the leaves and pine
needles. A lone hawk soared above the tall oaks in search of a morning rabbit to feed its young
nestled high in a tall pine. The world was coming to life with the arrival of the new day’s sun. A faint
breeze stirred, faintly scented with pine and honeysuckle fragrance, drying the dew. The young
vampire sat watching till his skin began to steam from the suns early rays then rushed back into the
cave that had been his sanctuary the past few months. Gaining the cool dark confine of the cave he
savored the image and remembered what it had been like to be human. To walk in the sunlight
feeling the warmth on his face and the rich nutty brown it had turned his skin in the summers, the feel
of sweat popping out on him as he had worked in the fields, the hum of June Bugs and bees flying to
and fro. He sighed heavily. That was all behind him now, the night was his life sharing her dark
secrets as he wandered, moving from village to village slaking his horrible thirst. He had been nearly
caught and killed at first, the blood lust making him sloppy and careless, but he had learned caution
and stealth stealing a single victim at a time instead of rushing in like a wolf in a sheep pen. He had
wiped out a whole village right after being turned, killing right and left, the killing madness on him as
he chased down the ones who tried to run. He hadn't fed till every last man woman and child lay
dead. Then bloody and spattered with gore he gorged himself on blood, sleeping through the day in
one of his victims huts, sheets pulled over the windows. A neighboring villager come to buy chickens
that day walked onto the horrible scene then ran all the way back to his village for help. They had
arrived with swords and pitchforks and started searching the village forsurvivors, luckily for him they
mistook him for a victim. They piled all the bodies (him included)in the big longhouse they used for
village meetings and trading. Night was approaching as they rounded up the last of the bodies and
set fire to the longhouse. Smelling the smoke and feeling the blast of heat from the approaching
flames, he awoke and slipped unseen out a window. He had very nearly been burned and he
learned to control the killing madness through practice and began taking single victims in stealth
attacks rather than the frenzied slaughter of the first village. He became an expert at stalking and
picking off villagers that strayed out of sight of the others. Silently he killed and dragged the bodies
off into the woods scratching leaves and dirt over them and ripping out chunks of flesh to make it
appear as if a cougar or bear was the culprit. From village to village he moved, taking one or two
here and there. Still young in his vampirism, he hunted to survive. Some nights he would play on the
stones crossing the pond running back and forth across them at dizzying speed, then walk them on
his hands, cavorting like a young foal in the moonlight. This was his place, where he always came
back after his roaming sprees. It was secluded and beautiful and he longed to roam it in the
daylight.
He lay sleeping in his cave, dreaming of playing by the pond in the daylight amid the flowers
and tall weeds. He never heard the grim party of villagers with their sharp sickles and wooden
stakes as they silently crossed the stones leading across the pond to the small path leading up to
the cave. Entering the cave one man accidentally knocked over a small rock leaning just inside the
mouth. Just a small click but he heard it like a boulder crashing through a thicket. Instantly he was
awake and aware! Smelling the fear coming off the villagers in pungent waves.He sprang from the
wooden coffin sitting in the small cavern to the left of the large main cavern and as they were lighting
the torches he took them from behind. Silently and swiftly he killed all five before they ever knew he
was even close by. Slaking his thirst he retired back to the coffin to wait for night’s release. When it
came he took all the bodies out of the cave and weighting them with stone he sank them in the little
lake. Standing beneath the weeping willows he thought for a long time. Then silently he ran to the
village and like a marauding tiger killed every last man, woman, and child. Working quickly to beat
the dawn he piled all the bodies into the chapel and after dousing it with kerosene he found by the
mill set it ablaze. He waited as long as he dared to make sure the flames were going strong enough
to complete the job then rushed back to his beloved cave. No one was going to take his home! He
would kill them all if they came! He sat watching the sun rise until his skin began to smoke then went
back to the little coffin to sleep the day away and dream of playing in his beloved home in the
sunlight.
Bobby W. Lee
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