Dead Man Walking

The first time I had a piece of chocolate cake, I was twelve years old. It’s one of the few fleeting memories I have left of my old life. Now, anything I eat turns to ash in my mouth. No taste, only hunger. Well, more accurately…a thirst. Insatiable, unending thirst. The more I drink, the more need.

I hate this.

I’ve lost count of the years since I was turned. The unstoppable tide of time has long since washed away what I was. Washed away my humanity.

I was no saint in my old life, but I wasn’t evil either. I lived my life like everyone else. I worked a nine to five, partied a little on weekends. I lived a very unassuming life. I enjoyed myself. I may have fucked around a bit too much, drank a bit too much, but I was otherwise a decent person.

Now… Look at what I’ve become.

I’ve been searching for a generation for the man… the thing that did this to me. I’ve often thought of what I would do if I ever found him again. I cycle between thoughts of killing him on site to forgiving the rotten fiend. After all this time, I believe I found his safe haven.

As I slog through the sewers of this ancient city, I begin to smell the stench of rot from up ahead. I cross through a chamber with a high ceiling, the flickering light from my torch the only illumination. In the dull flame, I find bones of all sizes scattered around the room. I feel the skull of a large rat crunch under my boot.

“Welcome, old friend.” Comes a raspy voice from the next chamber. The voice is familiar to me, but one I haven’t heard in a very long time. I hear him strike a match, lighting a a sconce on the wall behind him. The reflected light reveals the figure of an old man, decrepit, weak. He is not what I’ve imagined. “Come in. Please. Join me.”

I unsheathe my knife, edging into the next room. “I am not your friend.” I bite back.

“No, I suppose not.” His voice is sad, almost dejected. “Still, I would like you to join me. Please sit.”

“No. You know why I’m here, don’t you?”

“Yes, I believe so,” He rasps, “There will be plenty of time for that later. But first, sit with me a moment.” Another match strikes as the retched creature lights more sconces around the chamber. Once finished, he sits lowers himself into a chair opposite me. As dubious as I am, his words caught me off guard. I pull up a seat across from him. “Would you like some tea?”

“Are you kidding me? Tea does nothing for me, but you know that.”

“Indeed, however, I have a feeling you’ll enjoy this one.” He picks up a kettle from his table and pours into two cups. “Please take it.”

My curiosity gets the better of me. I cross to him, cautiously lifting the cup offered to me. I put it up to my nose, breathing in the scent of chamomile and…something metallic. As I sip the liquid, the taste of iron and tea mingle together on my tongue. It’s the first somewhat normal thing I’ve had in a long time that I could actually taste.

“You put blood in the tea.” Baffled I look up at the old man, “But how…Why can I still taste the chamomile?”

A sly smile cracks across his lips. “When you get to be as old as I am, you learn a few tricks to deal with our…condition.”

“Condition?” I bark, “This isn’t some condition! It’s a disease. You did this to me. I came here to kill you for what you did. Wh…?”

The words catch in my throat as he raises his hand to me. “I am sorry for all the pain I have caused you.” His words seem sincere, “I am old. Incomprehensibly old. You cannot understand just how lonely this life can be after all this time.

“You see, I…I have lived through wars, through famines, fires, disasters of many kinds. I have seen civilizations rise and fall. I have reveled in destruction. I’ve indulged every fantasy, every impulse. But I lost my taste for it many years ago.”

“Why tell me this?”

“I need you to understand. I never meant to hurt you. I was weak. I did what I did because I needed someone to spend this miserable life with.”

“So, you ruined my life out of a fear of loneliness? How dare you? I can’t eat, I can’t drink, I have hurt people. I’ve killed people. All because you couldn’t be alone.”

“I know.”

“You know? You know, but you did it anyway. You turned me into this, then just LEFT me! You abandoned me out there to live this half-life.”

“I regretted my actions the moment I took them. I couldn’t face you. Many generations ago, I turned others like you. I felt no remorse then, but when I saw you there, lying helpless on the ground before me, I couldn’t bring myself to stay. I was so selfish, but I couldn’t stop the transformation.

“But I am rotting now. I have not taken a life or consumed the blood of any creature in many months. My body is decaying around me. All I ask is that you take your revenge. End my life here and now. Put me out of my misery.”

I lunge at the demon, faster than any normal human, knife poised at its throat. “I could decapitate you in less than a second. I could let you crumble to dust in my hands or drag you into the sunlight to let us both burn.

“But death is too good for you.” I sheathe my knife at my hip, taking up my torch once again. “Stay here and starve, you pathetic wretch.”

“Please,” he begs, clawing at my clothing as I turn to leave his hovel. “End this. Take your revenge.”

“I am.” These are the last words I will ever speak to my maker. Like him, I am a demon. I wander this world living off the blood and life force of others, but I will never be like him. I will never bring another into this cursed existence.