Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Unmasked and Unearthly

I didn't realize at the time, but he wasn't human.
He was a clever lad, handsome, but not quite real. he always seemed slightly out of focus. My memories have large gaps in them of his working. Late at night, a time where anything is possible, I dream of him. Unmasked and unearthly. Somehow I must've betrayed his trust because though my dreams are lovely, they always end in blood. We met when I was sixteen and he was twenty. An age that stood firm year after year. I was a wallflower, he was graceful as a bumble bee. Every women was after him to dance that night. Child or old maid.
He asked me.
I analyze my remaining memories of him more then I should. they're always changing, distorted by the enchantment he placed on me. But that night, that blissful summer night, never changes. I would like to believe he fell in love with me, as I with him. We danced until the sun woke, we danced when the orchestra ceased their music and packed their instruments, until we were politely, then firmly asked to leave. He danced with me as though he had been waiting for me for eternity. And maybe he had.
It all changed one day. A day I would give my soul to retrieve. All I can recall is the smell of blood and howling. An inhuman howl of anguish and loss. I know he wasn't human. I love him dearly still.

More writing by this author

Blogs on This Site