Thin whisps of smoke

Thin Wisps of Smoke

Dragons are Disappearing
Sacrifice of a Servant
Bound by Blood
Together in a Tattoo
Mortal and mist

Author Unknown
From the dawn of man





She came to me for salvation so long ago, or so it seems now. At first She was simply a young woman full of life. Aren’t we are all full of life at her age. Over the years that youthful energy becomes more and more attractive. Why else would anyone going through a midlife crisis be so attracted to someone decades younger. It is especially strong for those like myself who feed on that life.
I found her at a New York Night club. Like any predator I was looking for the prey that didn’t quite fit. At a casual glace she wouldn’t have seemed unusual. She was dressed like everyone else at the club but something drew me to her. She of course was drawn to me for different reasons.
Mother was right I should never play with my food. I had always looked at the seduction of young women as a sort of appetizer. It was a way to enjoy my food before the main course. Even then I might feed for a long time from the same human. Savoring their life a sip at a time, like a connoisseur enjoying a fine wine. I had done that with this young woman. She told me everything, exposing her soul. She told me how as a young girl….

“The temple was lit only by the light of candles. Incense burned all around as the little hammer went tap tap tap on the needle. As the dark ink was forced under the skin of my chest, a little blood would seep out.”

“Why did your Grandmother give you the tattoo?”

“Because no one else was to know about it. She told me to protect the dragon, and in turn it would grant me its wisdom. She also sang a song to the tap tap tap of the hammer. I only remember a few lines.” At that paint she began to sing The Dragons are Disappearing. Sacrifice of a Servant. Bound by Blood. Together in a Tattoo, both Mortal and mist.

She thought she was going mad, the voice, the dreams, and movement in the mists. In her dreams were dragons, women of power and kings. As a child these did not seem all that strange. As she moved into adolescence the voice became louder. She first noticed it as suggestions of thought that seemed alien. Like a conscience it would advise her when she was unsure of herself. Over time the voice became more and more insistent. She found herself arguing with it. It was then that she started to see movement out of the corner of her eye. It was then that she came to me. At first I passed off her stories of hearing the voice, her dreams and visions. Until I started to hear something, see more then I normally did. Soon we were both seeing the misty form of a long oriental dragon. Its malevolence was palpable wherever we went. We kept traveling thinking to get away from it.
Why didn’t I leave her? Cut my losses and simply kill her. The answer to both is that, in the process of seducing her she seduced me as well. Like the farm family that finds the calf so cute, then finding themselves in a position of having to eat Betsy. It is never an easy decision for anyone. When we feed slowly upon humans, a bond forms that is not easily broken. In this case the bond was even tighter.
The end of our little drama came in a suburban house surrounded by the coils of this ancient dragon. A spirit that should have been at rest long ago trapped us. Despite all I had seen, the clarity I could see with I was lost. She was the one who had the answer.

“THE TATTOO! It had been part of an ancient rite. As a little girl I had been told I was its keeper. I had dreams of women protecting dragons. There had been many women with similar tattoos. The ink for those tattoos must have been the blood of dragons.”

“Bound by blood. Mortal and mist. Yes. Your blood does have a different taste. The only answer is the tattoo is the blood of that ancient serpent.”

Finally we knew the rest of the story. The dragons had been disappearing at the dawn of man. The last few dragons had sought immortality. Their salvation, so they thought, would be found in humans. Particularly in young women. By mixing the dragons blood with that of a mortal, their souls would remain. Their wisdom would not die out. At first the women were cherished and protected by kings. The women were the conduits to the wisdom of the dragons. Eventually, rival kingdoms would kidnap the young women for ransom or advantage in wars. The idea of keeping women as hostages became the basis of viewing women as both reverence and as a commodity. Something that would last long after the knowledge of dragons was lost. The women found it advantageous to keep quiet about the dragons. Over the years the various keepers of sprit would be lost and a dragons spirit as well. This dragon that had been fallowing us was suffering from cancer of the centuries. Slowly the loneliness of being the last dragon was setting in as insanity. It was time for the dragon to die, and pass beyond the mist.
She knew by now what I was and had resigned herself to the inevitability. The dragon would never leave. She drew close to me, looking in my eyes as she stretched her neck. It was the end for her either way. There was no going back to the life she knew before. As I plunged my canines into her neck we the dragon let out a growl in our minds. As I sucked the blood from her body the growl turned to a roar that seemed to shake the world around us. As her heart slowed to a stop, the dragon started to fade and blow away like mist in a breeze.
It has been years since I drank the last drop of her blood. There is a part of the prey in me all the time. Like they say you are that you eat. But her presence is stronger then most. She will remain with me till the promised time when the sun burns out and the world is in darkness. When those of my kind will no longer have to hide from the sun. How we will feed then is not known, but we will survive. We refuse to fade into the mist.