Friend Of The Dead

We'll Go No More a Roving

There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream. . .

Dear Dorian,

There's a certain irony to it, don't you think? There's a certain kind of tragedy as well. It's humbling. When you lose your humanity, a part of you disappears. Like a cloud of smoke in the air, it dissipates, leaving only a faint hint that it once existed, and the knowledge that it no longer does. I've come to the realization that part of yourself - your true, undoubted, self - is the smoke. Everything that made you inherently human, weak, vulnerable . . .gone. It blooms an ugly arrogance in you once it's vanished, nothing can affect you now, you're immortal. You're the world's most dangerous predator. You're at the top of the food chain.

But see, here's what they fail to tell you once you wake up as a creature of the night, something that I think many of my kind misunderstand. You're one of the undead, yes, but that doesn't mean you don't feel pain, that you'll never feel your soul ripped in half. They don't tell you that you can be killed just the same. Even by a human, even by five words.

Dorian is going to die.

The earth, and every common sight, to me, did seem appareled in celestial light,

The glory and the freshness of a dream. . .

There's a horrible, disturbing part of me that thrills at the news. It recoils in grotesque enjoyment because if you die, there's a chance, however slim it may be, that you could join me. My eternity wouldn't have to be filled with misery, not with you by my side. But then I remember that I never chose this for myself. I was the end result of a feud between two mates. All I have wanted ever since I opened my eyes as a vampire was to become a human again.

I wanted to wreck it all, cut off everything and fall into that dark abyss of oblivion. I wanted to hug my father, kiss my mother, I wanted to laugh and feel the warmth of Tony's embrace, I wanted to look at my sister and not see her as a creature doomed for death, be ignorant of her carnal desire for immortality, I wanted to meet Dorian again, human Dorian, who didn't remember me, and slowly remind him of our love.

So how could I ever take that away from another human? No matter how much I loved them, no matter how much I longed for them, no matter how much I needed them, how could I damn their soul as mine had been? Because I wouldn't wish this for you. I wanted you to grow old, have children, grandchildren, live a life away from chaos and bloodshed, clean of pain and sorrow because you'd already seen so much of it.

It is not now as it hath been of yore,

Turn whereso'er I may, by night or day, the things which I have seen I now can see no more. . .

But now, you're on the steps leading to the gallows. And I am your executioner. I signed your death sentence when I allowed myself to hope, when I let you back into my life, however brief it may have been. I am a beacon for the deceased. They flock to me like moths to a candle, and those who are alive don't remain that way for long when they keep my company. Athena didn't. I didn't either. And now, you. I caused your demise as well. I tied the noose around your neck, and now I'm forced to watch as they pull the lever. I have to lose you again.

Will I have to bury you as well?

But there's a tree, of many, one,

A single field which I have looked upon. . .

Throughout all this, I remember a song by Nick Cave that you claimed as your comfort song. It came on the radio one day and the minute the first note was played, you turned up the volume and closed your eyes. It was the first time I'd seen you so relaxed, so. . .so human. I couldn't stop looking at you. That was the first moment that you looked alive to me.