🩸 Vampire 🩸
No one can kill what is dead, even if it walks and flies, or talks and writes with style. Such is my destiny, condemned by a senseless game of logic to eternal life in death. In this dilapidated room with stone walls and wooden furniture, that's what I think about the most.
Yet, as the wood of this desk turns to dust, I too can yearn for that which every living man surely knows follows. That's the only thing that calms me.
The candle's heat and the curtain's red color make me hungry. I don't remember what caused this fate, but the result is an unmistakable and constant thirst for blood, as for water.
Hunger or thirst? I don't know, but I won't take it anymore. Once again, the secret and immortal monster will acquaint itself with the face of man in fear and take what is hers.