Blood Story.

Blood.

         I jolted awake; cold sweat trickled down my cheek.  It was strange; very strange that I have had the same dream since as long as I can remember.  Is that normal?  Does it mean something that I can’t figure out?  The weirdest thing about it is I can’t seem to remember anything but one word.  As if the dream consists of someone or something whispering one simple but gruesome word.  My breathing was always hard and strained like I’ve been running for miles on end.  It was just a dream though; wasn’t it?

         My day continued on as normal as ever.  Breakfast was quite given the fact that both my parents had left the house before I’d even woken and my young brother was sleeping away the day just like he always did.  I packed what I needed and headed to school.  School: what a complete waste of time.  I spent those wasteful hours doodling black circles on all of my work, drawing pictures of dead people, or writting pages and pages of just one simple word.  The same word from my dream.  This began being usual for me, nobody asked questions though that was mainly because I didn’t have many friends in this dreadful place.  People whispered things about me, but the school wasn’t very large so by the end of the day I knew almost everything that was said.  It never bothered; no matter how rude those whispers got.  Lunch was just as quite as breakfast although I was sitting in the middle of the cafeteria instead of my little shed of a house.  Like I said before, my day continued on as normal as ever. 

         As I was making my normal way home, down my normal route I reached my normal street and saw something not so normal.  A man stood right in front of my house staring at the one window with black curtains - my room.  It didn’t even cross my mind to turn around and leave.  Instead I felt an odd sensation to walk up and greet him.  I closed the distance between us quickly and stopped a couple of feet in front of him.  He turned slowly; reveling blood red eyes. 

         Blood.

         I heard him speak that same simple word I continually hear in my dreams although his lips never moved.  We stood there for an endless amount of time looking straight into each others eyes.  The redness of his eyes were beautiful, honestly the most beautiful thing I had ever seen yet at the same time so very familiar.  His pale white hand was suddenly resting upon my cheek.  The space between us was no longer there and I could feel the heat of his body radiating off of him.  It didn’t seem to surprise me even though I had just been standing several feet away from him and within seconds the tip of his shoes were touching mine. 

It occurred to me that this man had no intentions of leaving without me and as strange as it was; I didn’t want to be left behind.  I had no idea where I was going to be taken or how long I’d be away but there was no question about it: I was going with this very familiar stranger.  Although no words had been exchanged; he seemed to sense my decision and quickly - just as quickly as before - he took a small silver bottle out of his hidden pocket and dabbed it over his fading pink lips and kissed me square on the lips.  Blackness surrounded me then.  Was this the end?  Or the beginning?