Renacer...

If you were by my side and your neck to undress,
I would whisper in your ear a thousand times more:
It won't hurt is a sweet bite for your blood to taste, don't fear, there's no need to fear death or the darkness.
Together in a place to desire.
Since we will live in it for all eternity, spreading fear through the dark city to hunt and drink,
to hunt and drink forever,
the essence of life.

It was a cold and humid night like all those winter nights that go on and on, and spring nights that don't want to arrive. The wet streets from the rain and the heavy air entering my lungs mixed with the smoke of my cigarette. I felt like my life was being consumed by each drag but I didn't die, I kept living... Black in the night, alone, just a shadow more and no one noticed me. I walked and walked like every night looking for where to leave my life. But it never ended with that ritual. The days were nights and my nights continued to be night... hidden in darkness, I was part of it. My old and black clothes covered a worn-out soul that wanted to sleep eternally in the peace of heaven or hell. But I wanted peace. My mind was a pack of disordered thoughts, images, voices, memories... all leading to nothing. And I walked... had only one friend... maybe not a friend, just someone to share with; he was (…) I don't know his name... but came here, to meet him like many nights. He arrived at his door and only appeared, looked at me seriously, and the only thing that shone in the night were our eyes. I paid my entrance fee with a cigarette and a flame dancing wavelike in the wind like a stripper in a cabaret. I opened the door to my square... it was my cemetery.

I felt good, or so, in the cemetery; it was a place where I could feel at peace. Everything was peaceful, everything was quiet, there was no light and only the moon showed me the outline of things. The sounds didn't scare me. There was always some intruder who didn't pay the modest entrance fee and wanted to find death in that place. But death wasn't here, unless I thought so, death is outside... where are the living, where life blooms... there is death thirsty for souls. I walked among the tombstones greeting and welcoming the new ones. I laughed at the cheap witches who tried to leave their spells in the corners. Poor frogs. Those were my nights or days...

One night, after paying my toll, I Walk down the central street. I passed by the first wooden crosses (they were new) and said goodbye to them and continued my way. I lit another cigar, but the flame went out suddenly, it seemed like the fire in my hands felt afraid and went out. There was no wind, I looked around and saw nobody, only dead people. I shook the lighter and forced it to come out. A low, blue, trembling flame came out. It spread its warmth on the tip of the cigar and the smoke and red light from the ash and then it went out again. The lighter was loaded, I thought it was strange. I continued. As I turned the corner in front of the niches, I saw her. Blanca with blonde hair and no color. Her hands were on her face and she trembled, sobbing. I heard an old laugh from far away that was fading but there was nobody.I approached her, standing three steps away. I don't get along with the living. I didn't say anything... just looked at her... it seemed like a gift, an offering. I took a drag on my cigarette and the fire of the ash illuminated my face. I said hello... and the smoke drew the word in the air. She looked at me with her red eyes that turned into night. She trembled... extended her hands to me. I don't like the idea of helping her... I don't like the living... but dazed, I took her hands and lifted her up. Her hands were cold, her frozen face rested on my chest. She could barely walk. I took her to the door. Maybe my porter could help her and thus get rid of the punishment of holding onto her. We arrived and he wasn't there. A yellow spotlight illuminated the room. I could see her white skin that seemed transparent, like a dense spider web covering her flesh. Her red lips but no makeup. Her black eyes lost that looked like blood at times. There was no phone to call for help. She looked at me... looked at me... and I lit a cigarette.

I took a chair and sat in front of her. She was on an old, worn-out armchair. Her wet clothes. A long-sleeved shirt with a small neckline that barely showed her small breasts. A long skirt passing through the knees and barefoot. I ask her. What happened to you?. She looks at me... looks around and tells me ...I don't know. I feel good. Like renewed. My name is... is... (hesitates) ...is Yamila.

Okay..., I respond, I'm glad you're feeling well. I'll be back when the porter returns, he'll help you. I get up slowly and head to the door. She takes my arm and says wait... her red eyes were looking at my soul. She was smiling. I felt fear.

I sit on the armchair. She sits in the chair. Looks at me. Tells me... who are you? I say It doesn't matter... but she didn't move her mouth... but she was talking to me. Insists. Told me •...you're Ángel... and laughs frantically while getting up. I couldn't move or didn't want to, maybe out of fear, I wasn't used to feeling it. She approaches, lifts her skirt to her thighs, and sits on my legs. Her Hands on my shoulders. His red eyes pierced mine. Until I felt his lips open my mouth. A cold, wet kiss left me motionless. His lascivious tongue explored my mouth. It was her prey. Her icy hands opened my clothes. I wanted to twist from the cold but my body didn't respond, I was aware of everything but couldn't do anything. Her hands reached my sex. She softly masturbated me, discovering and looking at me. Her veins stood out green and blue on her skin. Her mouth was blood... her tongue savored my sex. She intensely licked me. Small pinches felt in the glans. The pain was pleasure. I felt thirsty for pleasure. Her nails clawed at my belly and legs until everything became very intense. She jumped over me. Her sex took possession of mine. Her moisture was thick. I felt her sex pressing mine. She bit me with her sex. Her movements were short and rapid. I didn't moan, I panted, her nails opened my skin. I felt myself burning and that's when she came. Her skin was fire. My skin burned while I moaned from pleasure. And another orgasm arrived. I saw her fingers dug in up to the first phalanx on my chest. My blood burst between her fingers... and in a furtive, animal movement hidden in a growl, the pain arrived.The sensation of being pierced. My neck burned piercingly. The suction of her mouth was draining my life. With my blood went the memories, the disorder, the vitality, the sensations. I let go and she sucked me back in. I felt like it ended inside her. I felt like the pain was going away. The light was going away. The punch no longer burned my fingers.Everything was darkness... the sensation returned. I felt it leaving my body. I heard its voice saying fearful forgive... forgive, I didn't want to do it... forgive, forgive... God have mercy... and the voice disappeared with the steps...

I don't know how much time passed since the voice left... The light came back into my pupils. My eyes were open but I couldn't see anything, now I can. I had blood on my shoulder, scratches on my chest. My sex showed small cuts that closed immediately. I felt like I wasn't what I used to be... I closed my clothes... lit another cigarette and left... I was hungry, but that need didn't come from my stomach... it came from my veins... I left the cemetery and went to the world of the living to see what I could find to eat.

...with time, I discovered I was created by a demon's inexperience, newly born and unaware that you don't leave your prey half-eaten.