𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖍𝖚𝖗𝖈𝖍 𝖔𝖋 𝖛𝖆𝖒𝖕𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖒

Blood. I could, at the tip of my tongue, feel its linger. A taste I had accustomed to. It was my own. I knew, something akin to this, would be my grave. In my very heart, I always believed that death would rob and leave me in such a predicament.

As writers, we are curious. We experience the dark and macabre. But the most alarming of all, a combination of the unknown and fear of mind, nothing can compare. Long before the good age of 22, my mind seemed set on destruction, the life before me seemed destined for trouble. Violence awaited my future.

My mind, might I say, was disturbed. As nothing could ever cure what said disease lurked in the dark depth of my ill mind. Even to my fated day, I have not changed.

Blutstadt. New germany. It was there, in the very graves of the old cemetery that I discovered, the church of vampirism. And now, lying in those same pits, with death before my eyes, I see the truth.

Was death my fear? What unknown would be my consequences?

With the lasting breath in my lungs, I do feel a coldness, and a sickness, of slow, interrupting anxiety. I know of my mistakes.

I should have never gone to that interview. But I, so desperately, so hopeful, needed a job. My sights laid nowhere else when I heard the taxidermy shop was hiring.

I had desired, not to follow my fathers dreams of me becoming a soldier. I desired, not hate. But I have shame: Dead bodies were my true love, death my only lust.

Admittedly, I knew the smells. A gentleman's cologne. A young maiden's perfume. Scents, manly, and odorous bodies, that i found beautiful, others, i discovered, had not. A fragrance of disgust, bodies and rot. You can always tell when a body is close. Oh death, my love, how you make my toes curl!

Maybe that was what drove me there.

Maybe that was why I decided to join the church.

Or maybe, there was something about him that lured me in.

He stank of blood.

There was, dare i say, a creepy attraction.

Not the endless glare of the skeletons that hanged upon on the wall, it was him who caught me.

As he walked into that little shop, he was my first notice. The way his eyes challenged any onlooker who dared viewed into them, something about him screamed into my heart.

He wasn't cautious with his approach, he knew exactly his doing and one could tell he was a man of little error .

From the back of the couner, myself and the shop owner had replied, meek in unison, "guten morgen."

A air of confidence from the man seemed to dominate the room. Even his nod, although so he did so slightly, seemed controlling, that he owned this room.

Realizing as he spoke, that his attention was not for me, I saved my words, and returned to my paper.

I cant remember the exchange of words between them, all filled my head was allure, and my mouth? Silence.

He left, almost as immediately as he had the room swooned. Shortly after, I went home, thoughts of him still stirring. Found to my unsurprising disappointment, the job interview i had not nailed.

Only his intrigue, didn't stop me from returning, to which i was offered another position. Sadly, I had not aced my ideal job but was fortunate to still work at the shop of taxidermy, where there had been need for a new funeral planner.

And there, began our encounter.