This is part of a Vampire Challenge. For more details follow this link: http://alucardsrose.blogspot.com/2009/09/vampire-challenge-2009.html
This collection of short gothic poems is copyrighted.
Dancing Near the Fire
My grief was black like the starless night, and heavy.
It hung in my belly like runes, tossed upon a cold, stony floor.
All day my grief consumed me, crushed and squeezed me,
until I could barely breath.
Then, slowly, my grief melted like ice turning to water.
It turned into a burning pool in my belly, a burning hotness that spread
outward, fanning into a flame burning beneath my skin.
This heat pulled me, like a magnet being pulled by the poles of the Earth.
It pulled, and I ran, free and wild, chasing the shadows in the dark night.
It was raining. My clothes clung to me like a second skin.
I chased the shadows through the woods, feeling the slap of branches on my cheeks,
feeling the sting of thorny vine.
I ran mad, letting the burning carry me.
I ran until I saw a fire in the distance.
Although I was burning,
I was also cold, wet flesh.
I neared the fire, hiding behind the trees.
I saw a tall figure
hidden beneath long flowing robes.
I would have turned away, and ran back, but for the music I heard clearly.
Music? Through the rain I could hear the soft, high whine of a violin,
and the rhythmic, steady beat of a drum.
The music enchanted me. I know no other way of describing it.
It was like air mingled with earth. It was like the wind playing upon your face, while your fingers dug deep
into the ground,
taking root, becoming the downward branching webs.
Where was this music coming from?
It made me want to dance. I wanted to glide on my toes, and shaking my hips wantonly.
Within minutes, I was dancing around the fire.
And I was not dancing alone.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed
the tall figure dancing beside me.
His body shook, like the leaves quivering in the wind.
Facing him, I discovered
a beautiful man, with
skin the color of chocolate and hair the color of coal.
His eyes were black, and they burned intensely.
They made me feel lost…and found.
Around us the wind parted the trees
like bothersome weeds. Orange embers flew into the air,
like delicate fireflies,
and we danced.
Like a willow tree, his long and slender arms shot into the sky.
We danced around each other slowly, circling around the fire.
For once, I let my passions guide my feet,
as my stomps matched the beating drum, and the whistling wind.
I don’t know how long we danced,
face to face, arm length apart, but as the music slowed
we slowed too.
We circled each other, almost touching.
I could see every line on his smooth face.
He extended his hand. I touched it.
A tiny shock. As if a spark
of electricity had passed from his fingers to mine.
His hand was cold.
Yet it felt like home, if home were a peaceful, ice covered mountaintop.
His fingernails were clean, and manicured.
Although this man was a stranger,
the touch of his hand calmed me.
I felt like I was floating around the fire,
like a child, floating in a swimming pool.
“Don’t be afraid little one,” I heard a deep clear voice say.
“I mean you no harm.”
His lips had not moved.
In fear I yanked back my hand.
“Who…what are you?” I asked, my voice soft and unsteady.
“You are safe here,” the voice inside my head replied.
I stared into his eyes and my fears faded away.
Again he held out his hand. This time I clasped it firmly.
Suddenly, the world was turning.
The fire, the wind, the rain, the night sky, all spun around me.
When it stopped spinning, I was in another place.
I could hear the sound of waves crashing
against the shore. I felt sand under my feet.
I could smell salt in the air.
The fire was gone, so too the rain.
The sky was now clear, lit by a luminous moon.
I spotted black sand dunes in the distance.
A warm breeze blew through my hair.
I stood upon a beach,
and the stranger stood beside me, holding my hand.
Maybe it was my grief still fresh in me.
Or maybe it was the soft moonlight upon the desolate beach.
Maybe it was the burning sensation returning, or
a moment’s temporary madness.
Whatever it was, I pulled the tall stranger down to my face
And kissed him firmly on the lips.
He kissed me back.
His lips were cool and soft, tasting like clove cigarettes.
Our kiss deepened.
His tongue slowly explored the insides of my mouth,
sliding like gentle water over smooth ocean shells.
He gently sucked my bottom lip,
then made his way to my ear lope, gently pulling
with his teeth.
My knees went weak, my mind, filled with sweet
intoxications.
The world did not exist to me, just
the movement of his tongue over
my hypersensitive skin.
I closed my eyes.
His fingers rubbed through my hair,
then up and down the back of my neck.
I tilted my head back, leaning into his solid body.
Ouch! I screamed in pain.
Something had punctured my neck with a needle.
Or a bite.
Maybe he’s hungry.
The thought flashed through my mind.
Panic pumped through my veins.
I opened my eyes, touching my neck.
I expected to see blood on my hand,
but I saw nothing.
I looked around, slightly dazed.
We were back in the woods.
The fire was still burning, the rain was now a gentle mist.
Where was the beach?
Was I dreaming?
I felt his cold hand, still holding mine.
“Are you afraid of me?” he asked.
I was relieved to see his lips move.
“Yes…no.” I lied.
His right eyebrow lifted.
“Please, come with me,” he said, “We should get out of this rain.”
He smiled, pulling my hand.
“I can’t,” I said, “I don’t even know your name.”
“Call me Armand, little one.”
“Armand,” I repeated.
His name rolling around my mind,
as I followed him down a path through the woods.
