Finnian

24 3 2

When I was younger, I lived in the part of a city home to fellow vampires. You could say it was a Chinatown for bloodsuckers. But here, no mortal knew of our district's secret, and that was how we liked it. We kept humans out, unless we were hungry, and we allowed our kind in with welcome arms. It was our haven, somewhere we could all simply live and never fear leaving our homes.

But there was a major mistake made by my landowner. Beneath my apartment, there lived a jubilant young man—a human man by the name Finnian.

Though he was below me, I never saw him around the apartment building. It was like he wished to hide, to prevent others from knowing his existence here. I doubted he knew, or believed, vampires existed, so his behavior struck me as odd.

The only reason I knew of Finnian's existence was because of my natural ability, one uncommon to my race. I can see the life that emanates from all mortal creatures.

To explain it in terms you may visualize, my eyes see life much like the infrared spectrum. I can see different colors depending on how much life is left in a vessel, and the colors fade as I grow father away from the living thing. A baby may appear a vibrant red, while a sickly elder may appear black or navy blue.

This was the main reason I moved to an all-vampire area, for it is tiresome to constantly see life; I had not yet mastered the ability, so I could not prevent myself from seeing the life spectrum, as I call it.

Finnian was always a blindingly bright shade of yellow that suggested his natural death was far, far away. It distracted me for a time, and I'd spent hours staring down at him from my room, watching his movements. He exercised regularly, and he could be found in the kitchen most times of the day, though I speculated he merely looked at the food lustfully and rarely ever ate. He was in constant motion in his room until he collapsed on his bed, his thud loud enough for me to hear above him.

He is peculiar, I thought one day. I like him, I thought the next. Then the day after that, I followed him outside the apartment.

That is when I began to stalk him.

As it turned out, we both visited many of the same places in our day-to-day, though we never once ran into each other. One of these places was Café Vitae, an ironic café for a district of vampires.

Every morning, I walked to the café for my latte and a glimpse at him. I would sit near the back, sipping away at my latte, taking in his appearance.

While I always saw the life spectrum, it acts like a thin blanket on living creatures in my sight, as opposed to those on the other side of walls, for example. Finnian's bright yellow hue was there as I gazed at him in the café, but it overlapped him, and I could still see what was underneath fine.

Finnian was around six feet tall, with black hair and icy blue eyes. His skin was fair, and his cheeks were littered with little, pale freckles. He was rather thin for his height. I found his countenance, which invariably had a smile on it, cute, much like a puppy's.

For a human, his getup was strange. He typically wore a heavy coat, scarf, and thick pants in a common vampire fashion. Due to our fragile skin—though it doesn't burn to ash as common superstition suggests—it is common to find our kind in heavy garments, especially our elders. He also kept an antiquated umbrella with him at all times, and he used it whether it rained or not; this is another common trait of the elders.

One day, as I watched Finnian from behind, his icy blue eyes seemed lost. He stared into nothingness. My curiosity growing, I leaned forward in my chair, squinting to get a better look at him. His features were gentle and calm. He whistled a quiet whistle, one it seemed only I heard. I closed my eyes as he whistled the wind's songs. Mellow waves rolled down my body. Lost in his music, I couldn't hear his footsteps, nor did I notice the tune growing louder. It ended with a loud snap of his fingers by my ear.

Enamored with CrimsonWhere stories live. Discover now