A Bed of Roses

A Bed of Roses

They say life isn’t a bed of roses. In my opinion, this statement is utterly false. What better way is there to depict both the pleasures and harshness of life? Indeed, we lie intoxicated in the embrace of the sweet fragrance of life, exhilarating our senses to the point of complete abandon. Yet, the malicious thorns are there, everpresent hindrances that constantly remind us about the sacrifices we have to make for this blissful state of existence to last. A loss for a gain: the undeniable fact of life. Even my own life is no exception. I’ve gained something others could only dream of, but at a heavy price. I have no regrets though, the decision was made then and no amount of repentance could ever reverse it. Why? Let me tell you then. Or better yet, let me show you…

There I was, all dressed up, the polished cameos on my fine suit of black gleaming brightly in the light of the grand chandelier. An array of exotic food was spread on several long tables, the guests helping themselves to the various types. Some were chatting in small groups, others just stuffed themselves silly, while a number of couples took to dancing in the middle of the floor to the marvellous symphony performed by a small orchestra. The usual sort of social gathering for political bigwigs and anyone and everyone who matters, attracting only the rich and famous and those of high bearing. My favourite kind of place, though it took me extra care to look like someone important and at the same time remain inconspicuous.

The risk was well worth it though when, after scanning the crowd nonchalantly, I spotted the one I sought: an attractive young lady, garbed in a strapless evening gown of blue. My senses were overwhelmed with a great desire upon seeing her from afar, her lovely radiance reflected in my gaze. She was perfect. Simply perfect.

Gracefully, I weaved my way through the crowd of guests who had all now became just a sea of unimportant faces; my eyes were only for her. I approached her and, in the politest tone I could muster, invited her to dance with me.

She took one look at me, sizing me up apparently, and smiled. Taking her hands in mine, I was delighted when a warmth unlike anything I’ve ever felt before course through her fingers and through my veins, setting my heart ablaze with passion. Slowly, we settled into the rhythm of the song that was playing.

Impatient as I was, I continued dancing with her for a few moments till I eventually led her to a corner of the hall. Only a few people were there, and they were either engaged in a heated discussion or hopelessly drunk.

It was now or never.

I brushed her raven hair away from her shoulder in a gentle gesture and drew my head forward, my lips almost kissing her neck. She did nothing to hold me back.

Immediately, I sank my fangs into the throbbing vein, enthralled by the rich blood that flowed into me with increasing rapidity. I could hear her heart now, beating slower and slower. Just before it stopped beating altogether, I reluctantly parted from her neck.

I supported her limp body as one might support one’s lover who had exhausted herself and fallen asleep standing, and led her to an upholstered chair, settling her in a comfortable position as best as I could.

I stroked her cheek lovingly. Her eyes closed, she looked as if she was just sleeping peacefully after a tired routine of dancing. But I knew better. Her life was gone. Her life now flowed through my veins.

Shortly after, I left the gathering, all the while wondering how long it would take for them to finally find out that she was dead.

A loss for a gain: the undeniable fact of life.

I gave up my mortality, not knowing the many horrors that I would face in my now interminable passage of life. Though it appals me that feeding on my fellow human beings is the only way I can survive with whatever sanity I have left now, I have to confess that I do find it rather exciting. The unawareness of my victims, the sheer pleasure of feeling their very essence of life flow into me, makes living seem worthwhile after all.

Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that what I’m doing is right. It’s just that I’ve long accepted that this is now my way of life, whether I like it or not. Like the thorns that continue to disturb me as I lie in slumber in a bed of roses.

And that is why I have no regrets.