by April May Maple

Created on: October 08, 2009   Last Updated: March 14, 2010

It amazed me how I was still capable of enjoying the peacefulness of the starry sky. Even when the night brought such a curse with it, I could still look up and find serenity. For more nights than I would wish upon anyone, I gazed up at the flawless scene above, consumed with vengeance, always torn between adoration and revulsion. Still, those first fleeting moments, just as the sun sets, were perfect, unspoiled. Then the thirst would consume me.

The pangs and cramps would force me back to the grim reality of what I really was, telling me what I already knew I must do. Deciding who would die so that I may live was never a simple decision, especially when I had the ability to sense their emotions and see who they truly were without the stereotypes society had confined them to. I would carefully select my victims, examining them and learning who they really were, before I extinguished their lives.

Humans rarely showed the world their true selves. Good and bad were masked in shades of grey. Those that society had labeled as good people could have dark secrets that would condemn them to an eternity in hell. Others that were known for poor reputations could have pure souls. It was a very delicate business and one being should not have this power, this curse. There was no gratification in it for me, every night a little piece of my humanity died with them. I had become a dark vigilante, a twisted angel.
Yet, it was the only way to control the animalistic instincts. Losing control was not something I could afford to do again. I refused to be burdened by that guilt for eternity.

 I wandered aimlessly through the darkened streets, searching. Nothing went unnoticed by my inhumanly perfect vision. A prostitute leaned against a flickering lamppost. She had a girl next door look, the girl that grew up to be a great beauty. The silky fabric of her dress fell from her shoulder and a milky white thigh jutted from the hem of her barely there skirt. Her life had been harsh, but she was surprisingly delicate. She seemed like such a beautiful, effortless meal. Who would grieve for a hooker? Her redemption was in her eyes.

Those hazel green eyes were her savior. They were sad and solemn, yes, but they had fierceness about them. I had seen eyes like that before; they were a mother's eyes. They were unafraid to do whatever necessary to protect and provide for her child. She had lived a cold cruel life but she had not given up and she owned up to her responsibilities. She had a

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