The Huntress Bloodlust (Pt2 )

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Chapter 15

It had been too soon for me to come back. I had been completely wrong about myself. I hadn’t been ready to go hunting again. But now, I had discovered that dreadful side of me and wanted to do anything to lock it away. I didn’t want it to come out again. I didn’t want to be a monster and to kill for fun. This thought made me shudder with disgust.

Two more weeks passed until I went on patrol. Autumn had finally said its farewell and winter’s cold made my teeth chatter, when I walked through the church’s portal on December 2nd. But I was ready to make a new attempt. I felt better and more stable. Still, Father Michael and I had agreed on me to come back as soon as I felt the desire to slaughter.

The first test was not long in coming. When the slimy monster stood in front of me, it obviously was just as surprised to see me as I was. Of course, the creatures of the night had noticed my absence and could rage at will. But that time was over now! “I’m back again!” I yelled, grinning at the thing. It winked at me with its yellow eyes as if asking: “How’s that possible?” At the same time, I shot an arrow through its heart. With a bewildered squeak it fell backwards and laid on the cold ground. Quickly, I informed the clean-up team and set off, without looking back. I had resisted the temptation. Yes! I knew I could do it!

I completely became wrapped up in my job and didn’t realize where I went to. But then an unusual silence surrounded me, making me prick my ears and look around. I discovered the dark grey outlines of things in front and beside of me. Some looked like crosses, others like simple plaques. Some were shaped like angels. With shaky hands, I took out my flashlight and lit up the darkness. I stood on a cemetery and roved over the graves of the deceased. Immediately, I felt bad about disturbing their eternal rest by stepping on crunching pebbles. Curiously, I lit up every corner; like a bouncing ball the beam of the flashlight whooshed across the tombstones. I found old stones, whose epigraphs were so weather-beaten, you couldn’t read them. And I discovered graves, whose sight made my heart bleed, as the dates told me the deceased were babies and little children. I was choked. I began to blink, trying to chase away the tears in my eyes. Hastily, I turned the flashlight to somewhere else.

Another quarter of an hour passed, while I looked around the cemetery. I found more simple graves and came past great family monuments, which were several meters high and stood in front of me like giants of admonishment. Some reminded me of Greek buildings, which I only knew from TV or pamphlets from travel agencies. As time went by, my mood changed. At first, I was curious, because I had found this unknown place, where so many old commemorative plaques were, which told you to which religion or culture the people had belonged to. But then it got scarier and scarier. Every single snap or crunch of my own steps frightened me and I looked around nervously, only to see that I was alone. My heart-beat didn’t slow down and the unpleasant tingling in my neck, that you feel when someone’s watching you, didn’t go away. So, I decided to search for the exit and to get out of here.

Quickly, I scurried through the narrow paths between the graves and came to a fork. In the middle of it there was an angel, carved out of stone. His wings spread above me and kindly, he looked down at me, as if wanting to offer me to come to him to find shelter there. I turned left and walked past more tombstones. My companion, the bouncing ball of light from my flashlight, jumped from the right to the left and back to the front. When it stroke something colored in the distance, I frowned. With each step I got closer and clearly saw what it was: another grave with colorful flowers, bouquets in all shapes and sizes. Some flowers were somewhat wilted but others literally had been preserved by the cold and still looked fresh. I slowed down and read the name on the tombstone. It was familiar to me just like the date of birth and the name of the family members, which had been engraved on the stone. Only one name was missing: mine.

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