Shimmering red orange fire ominously fills the sunset where a liquid silvery blue had perched moments earlier. Crisp visions last heeded by wandering minstrels are illuminated once again. A haggard old raven alerts the innocent harshly with his piercing shriek, his singular and final admonishment to the impending lunar arousal. He is the gate-keeper between heaven and the realm of the undead. A cool fresh breeze chills the night providing anesthetic to the oblivious and invigorating desires entombed deep within the gist of the necrotic. It has begun. Sinister awakenings set are set in motion and Pandora is unleashed. The quickening. Age long arrested; youth assured in infinity. Lecherous libido satisfied by the aceration into the flesh. The ache and ecstasy rushes in a flash flood, satiating sinew and musculus to the marrow. Absorbing the nourishment of the weak. All resistance is futile. Coronal rays, my only bane. Kryptonite for the Dammed. The void of stars provides my cloak until the auroral egress. Immersed in the ritual feeding; the deed is complete. Returning to the cradle of my sanctuary is not by choice but rather a requirement for the immortal. Alas, I remain entombed to this perpetual pattern until solar rays seer my wicked corpse. Shall I request your presence at the next septic buffet? I remain eager to greet you. My gate-keeper will once again pronounce my awakening and cue the familiar rush of chilled air. It's a date.
