Category Archives: Blood Red Passion

Poetry & Verse For Vampires and Lovers

The Last Dark Hour

I watched them again last night. For several evenings in a row they have come here to Red Gate Cemetery. Their discovery of the graveyard must have appealed to them somehow. At first, I thought they were a couple of Goth kids looking for a dark creepy place to make out, but as I got braver and edged my way closer, hiding behind tombstones and statues as I went, I realized they weren’t kids at all. The girl was young and lithe, early to mid twenties, with a glow about her that reminded one of the shimmer of stars reflecting across a body of water. In the moonlight, the color of her hair seemed to shift from red to black to brown, as if she were in a constant flux of change. Her face was very beautiful, almost angelic, with striking features you’d find yourself wanting to study the way artists do before they paint their subject. And the perfect shape of her body here in the shadows of the night nearly made my breath catch in my throat. Every movement of her was like a sensual dance of one who had not fallen in love, but surpassed it, becoming the muse and inspiration of every romantic line uttered from a poet’s lips. She spun into her companion’s arms, swirling and swaying against him, as if she were desperately seeking to become so close to him, not even the cool air of the night could pass between their bodies.

 Her companion was a little older than she. His long brown hair swirled about his shoulders as if the very breeze were caressing his frame. He was taller and his presence nearly commanded you to look in his eyes. Those eyes were dark, shifting from hazel to grey, brown to black, much in the same manner her hair had changed. His hands seemed to know every line of her body, as his long fingers traced a path on her cheek. It was both tender and sensual, and every time his touch would find a place pleasurable to her, she would lean into his hand.

 As I crept closer, I could hear something, a faint disturbance of the silence. At first I didn’t know if it was the sound of their bodies and it’s sensuous electricity passing between them, but I quickly realized the answer was simpler than that. They were singing to each other. I couldn’t quite hear the words from where I was, so ever more bravely I crouched behind a large angel statue just feet away from them. Now I could hear their voices more clearly as they both sang in low whispers:

 “My love, Take not your heart from mine,

 But let it rest safe against thine..”

 Peering around the statuary’s marble pillar, I could see them even more clearly. The girl’s skin was pale, and as the man’s fingers stroked her bare shoulder, I noticed two things. One was an ankh tattoo. The Egyptian cross of everlasting life lay atop a heart broken into two halves, and the man’s long fingernails seemed to trace the ink itself. The second and strangest thing I noticed was the man’s hand itself, as it went across her bare skin. He was pale too, but it seemed the more he touched her, and the longer I watched, the more ashen his skin became. It was nearly translucent, as if her mere presence created a glow from within. As his fingers crossed her neck, she tilted her head away from him, exposing her soft skin to him. He took a deep breath, as if he was breathing in her very scent, and his lips gently grazed her neck. Her excitement was so heightened at this, that I thought I saw a vein in her neck jump towards his lips. He kissed her there on that twitching vein, a long loving touch that made her wrap her arms more tightly around him. He opened his mouth, his teeth playfully grazing her heated skin. Suddenly it dawned on me exactly what he was. I inhaled sharply from the realization.

 He stopped. His lips still touched her skin, but now he was aware of everything around him. No longer completely lost in her, he raised his head and took a whiff of the night air. The girl took longer to recover, but she too realized they weren’t alone. She clutched him close, a look of fear taking over the haunting beauty of her eyes.

 The man kissed her forehead and she buried her cheek against his throat. He didn’t look at me as he spoke.

 “I know you’re there,” he said.

 I ducked back behind the statue as if that would hide me.

 “There’s no need to hide,” he said, as if he could read my very thoughts. “Your scent is strong…”

 I closed my eyes, hoping that maybe if I held them shut long enough this whole predicament would go away. When I opened them back up and gathered the resolve to come out of my hiding place, he appeared in front of me. One minute he had been holding her, and in the next he was hovering over me as I crouched behind the statue.

 “…but not as strong as your fear,” he finished.

 I cringed, trying to back away from him, but there was nowhere to go. He smiled and I noticed there was a trace of blood on his lower lip.

 “What do you want?” I managed to ask in a weak voice.

 “That is the very question I would ask of you. You have been watching us for awhile now.” “I..I’m sorry. I am just curious, that’s all.”

 He raised an eyebrow. “Curious?” He laughed under his breath. “A bit of the voyeur perhaps? Just what are you curious about, hmm?”

 “Why you come here?”

 “Ah, the cemetery fixation, yes.“ He stepped back from me a little, affording me space to breathe. “Have you ever considered cemeteries as a sort of crossroads? It’s where death ends with the burial of the body, yet it begins here too. Sometimes in the lives of mourners, sometimes in the deceased themselves. We are drawn here because it is a place of peace, rebirth, even reunion. There is no place where love is felt stronger, more desperate, more clinging to life and all its pleasures. “

 I noticed out of the corner of my eye the girl had come around the statue to stand behind her lover. She circled her arms around his waist and kissed him lightly behind the ear. She whispered something I could not make out.

 The man nodded. “Perhaps you would feel more at ease if we left.”

 I couldn’t speak. Their presence together was so intoxicating. Just by being this close to them I felt I was being consumed by their passions. Their desire for each other was so powerful, it made me want to blurt out “I love you” myself.

 He seemed to realize this and threw back his head in a slow easy laugh. “It is powerful, is it not? Love, the eternal variety, grows until it overwhelms everything in its path. Even the people who briefly come in contact with it. No one is unaffected by true love. No one.”

 The girl smiled, eyes closed, as her fingers lovingly played across his chest. It was apparent that for her there was no greater happiness than being in her lover’s arms. With that thought bouncing around in my head, her eyes opened and met mine. I completely melted inside. To look into her eyes was like peering at every romantic notion you had ever imagined, and seeing it look back at you, amorous and sensual. I don’t know if she was aware of the effect she had on me, but her lips curled into a smile, and it was then I noticed the blood on her mouth.

 “You’ve bit your lip,” I managed to say.

 The smile turned into a knowing grin. “We often do.”

 Her companion, with one hand on her chin, tilted her face up to him. His facial expression seemed to change. No longer was he the cordial talker with his attention directed to me. No, instead an intense look crossed his face as he stared into hers. It was as if all he saw was her and he was caressing her beautiful frame with his eyes. Ignoring my presence, he leaned into her, and with a gentle gesture pressed his lips to hers. Her mouth welcomed his and she closed her eyes. The kiss was the most sensual I’d ever seen. Every second seemed to be a testament of love, adoration, and desire, wrapped in eroticism. He playfully sucked at her bottom lip, and when they parted, I noticed the blood on her mouth was gone. He had taken it. Finally, as if coming out of a trance, he directed his attention to me once again.

 “So..,” he spoke. “What are we going to do?”

 Fearfully I backed away. “What..what do you..you mean?”

 He found my stuttering response amusing, and he let out a light chuckle.

 “You’re afraid of me, aren’t you?”

 I couldn’t lie. His all knowing eyes wouldn’t allow it. “Yeah.”

 “Why?”

 “Because..Because you’re a vampire.”

 He raised an eyebrow in apparent amusement.

 “Perhaps. Or perhaps you just have a skewed perception of things you don’t understand. Vampires as you call it.”

 “You were going to bite her neck and drink her blood.”

 He looked at the girl, who had now unbuttoned his shirt and was kissing his chest. “Oh most certainly I was. But why should that scare you?”

 “Because you might drink my blood too,” I stammered.

 He looked at me, his face taking on a stern countenance. “You do have a skewed perception. I would never drink anyone’s blood except my Liliana’s. Never. Blood is the life, but so is love. One cannot live without either. To drink another’s blood besides hers would be.. unfaithfulness.”

 “Then what are you going to do to me?”

 “Do to you?”

 “I’ve seen you. I know what you are.”

 “Foolish gravedigger, you don’t know what I am.”

 “You’re a vampire, “ I reminded him.

 “That word is so..mortal. I am..we are..the last of the Magimade. Our blessing is to live forever. Our curse is..well, it just is.”

 “The sun is your curse,” I offered.

 “To never see each other in that light. As it used to be. As it was before..” His voice trailed off and he appeared lost in his own thoughts. I was no longer scared. Before me were not the bloodsucking evil creatures of legend and Hollywood, but a tragically sad version of Romeo and Juliet made for the gothic crowd.

 “I can keep you from the sun,” I suggested. “If you need it.”

 His look turned stern again. “We do not need a human servant to do our bidding. We can find our own place of hiding and rest.”

 “There’s an empty crypt here. You could go inside and I could lock you in until morning. No one can get in without a key. You would be safe and undisturbed.”

 He seemed to think on this a moment. Liliana lightly kissed him on the back of his neck. Sadly he smiled. He turned his head to her and her lips found his own. It was a hungry, desperate kiss, like that of forbidden lovers before they have to part. When her mouth left his I could see the tears running down her cheek. He turned back to me and I could see the tears had welled up in his eyes too.

 “We cannot rest together,” he said. “It is part of our curse. We have until the last dark hour.”

 “And then what?”

 “Then I am a memory inside of her.”

 Liliana touched his cheek lovingly. “Nicolai,” she breathed.

 “Yes, my love.”

 “We don’t have much time.”

 “I know.”

 He buried his face against her bare shoulder, kissing her skin on a path to her neck, her cheek, and eventually her lips. Gently she wrapped her arms around him and I could see the love emanating on their faces. It was so apparent I thought to myself that nothing could hide a love as great as this. They held each other for a few more moments and all I could do was stand there in silence and wait. If I’d ever thought of running, it was lost to me now.

 Finally Liliana looked at me with sad eyes. “The hour is upon us. Nicolai must go. You should go, too.”

 It wasn’t a suggestion. It was a command. Her eyes compelled me to turn around and begin walking. I couldn’t fight it. But after taking about twenty paces, I managed to will myself to stop. I had to see this parting of lovers for myself. I turned around.

 Nicolai and Liliana stood facing each other. Her open hand rested against his cheek. His own hand was palm against her chest, right between her quietly heaving breasts. And then he began to break apart. At first I thought I was seeing things, but no, his body was slowly coming to pieces. Tiny flakes of ash and motes of dust seemed to peel away from his skin. She held out her hand to collect these remnants of him, and they seemed to be attracted to her in such a way, that they seeped into her own skin. Further coming apart, soon he was nothing but dust, falling into hands, where all the parts of him disappeared into her. His hand upon her chest was the last to go, and it trailed down her body into her palm, where it lingered a second, before fading into her like a misty fog across a pale morning sky. Now there was nothing left of him. It was as if he had never been there at all.

 I watched Liliana crumble to her knees, the tears pouring from her eyes, and she tilted back her head letting out an anguished wail, as if by somehow taking the remnants of her lover inside her body, her own beating heart had been torn away from it. I ran to her and tried to comfort her somehow. But there was no comfort for her. In the last dark hour before daylight, she was alone.

 

My NaNoWriMo 2016 Day 27: Chapter 27

Time Of Our Death

By Paul D Aronson

 

Twenty-Seven
To be honest, I had been to only one school dance in my whole life. That was back in Junior High, eighth grade. In that stage of school, all dances took place during fifth and sixth period, and was more of a way to get out of class than to take a girl to a dance. Most of the boys stood around pencil fighting or finger flicking, while the girls sat on the gym bleachers wishing they were older so they could go to a real dance. The All Hallows’ Eve dance at Murray Senior High School was much different. It took place at night for one, as most teenagers had drivers licenses and could drive to the school themselves. For another, boys had noticed girls in a big way, and pencil fighting was so stupid when there was a real DJ playing records that teenagers actually liked.

When the five of us sauntered through the gym wall, we were assailed with the sound of Def Leppard’s Hysteria and I knew it was going to be a good night, if we could survive it. A bit of fortune had come our way. Earlier that evening, the news had spread that the cranes and winches they planned to use to bring the bus up malfunctioned. Mechanical difficulties, they reported. We hadn’t done anything ourselves, so maybe Sister Fate had a little mercy left for us. No matter the reason, it was being said around town that they wouldn’t be able to get things working again until tomorrow afternoon, or even later. We all drew a collective sigh on that one. We could relax and enjoy the dance. Well, as far as any ghost could anyway.

We were taking the Halloween dance seriously. It wasn’t just another to crash or place to play pranks. We dressed up in costume just like anyone else, though us five were the only ones who could see it. And we had to rely on things we had already owned. For some reason, we just couldn’t go into a costume shop and take what we wanted. If we had, everyone would have seen bodiless clothes just moving around the dance floor. Not a good thing if you were trying to blend in. But like we had done a few days ago, we learned we could ‘think’ our way into clothes we owned, or had owned at one time.

Brian took advantage of this by creating a makeshift Frankenstein costume and then allowing Kelly to apply green and black makeup to his face. For bolts in the side of his neck, she used two of her favorite lipstick holders. Apparently, you could share these items you owned with other ghosts. I made myself a mental note that if we had enough time I would write the ghost handbook to help other spirits that might come after we are long gone.

Kelly had taken an old white dress and some of Brian’s Ace bandages he used for football sprains to fashion herself as Elsa Lanchester in The Bride Of Frankenstein. An entire bottle of hairspray and temporary black face paint helped her create the bride’s frightening hairdo.

Donald took the easy way out and made himself into a punk rocker again, down to the misfits t-shirt and safety pin through the eyebrow. He had let Lori draw the anarchy symbol on his cheek, and to top things off, he spiked his hair and applied four different colors to it. You would have thought Johnny Rotten had just crashed the dance.
Lori dressed herself as a dark gypsy. With her black goth make up, she looked like a cross between Stevie Nicks, Elvira (minus the revealing cleavage), and that chick from the Lost Boys movie. In my honor, she had adorned her cheek with the Kiss logo. Of course, I’m not sure if she intended it to represent the hard rock band or a target spot for Robert Smith’s mouth.

For myself, that’s right you guessed it, I cheated and went as a long hair rocker. Jeans so tight I could hardly move in them, a spandex shirt that revealed way too much of my bare chest, and black boots with chains wrapped around them. On my head I wore a Guns and Roses headband, on my hands black leather fingerless gloves. Lori had gotten me with the makeup too, adding a bit of painted flourish to bring out my eyes and cheeks in ways that made me look like I was auditioning for a spot in Poison. Brett Michaels would have been proud, if not downright jealous.

We drifted among the costumed dancers. Many of the boys were Freddy Krueger, Jason, and Michael Myers, with a few Klingons and Imperial Stormtroopers thrown in. Girls had selected Princess Leia, the wicked witch of the west, and She-Ra. One adventurous lass was dressed as Sheena, Queen Of the Jungle, but several chaperones made her cover up.

The DJ, a young man with mullet and beard, changed the song to Whitney Houston, and altered the tempo of the dance floor. It was easier to dance to Whitney than Leppard, so the gym floor found itself with a lot more kids dancing. Some swayed as couples, but most seemed to be single individuals hoping for someone to dance with. Because of the nature of costumes as disguises it seemed our peers were braver than usual and actually approached each other to ask for a dance. Or perhaps it was the newly realized notion that life was short and could be taken away at any time that caused everyone to take a few extra chances.

I looked at my favorite companion. I had to ask myself how in the world I had missed her all this time. How did she move through high school without me taking real notice of her? She was beautiful. Not just pretty like other girls, but strikingly beautiful. She’d hidden it all under her goth attitude an make up, but really when it came down to it, she put others to shame. Kelly may have been the reigning queen of the high school, but Lori was like the gorgeous princess hiding her true self from the wicked stepmother.

“What are you staring at?”

Her voice brought me out of my thoughts with an embarrassed flush. “Um, no reason. Just glad to be here.”

She smiled. “Me too. I don’t think I’ve really been envious of anyone, but I’m feeling kind of jealous now.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Jealous? How?”

“They get to enjoy this next year. We wont be here.” I thought I saw a glistening tear at the edge of her eye. “I can’t believe how I never appreciated any of this. How I just came to school because I had to.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. But hey, we don’t have to miss it just yet. We’re here now. At the All Hallows Eve Dance. Together.” I took a deep breath. A thousand butterflies invaded my stomach. Under the gym lights, she looked so beautiful I wanted to cry and just take…

“Look at them silly asses,” Lori said, pointing out on the dance floor, and making the butterflies scatter as if hiding from a collector’s net.

Brian and Kelly were in the middle of everyone, Frankenstein and his Bride doing a hilarious variation of the twist. While it threatened to become dirty dancing, it was quite comical as they were exaggerating every move. You would think they believed all eyes were on them and that they were still the king and queen of the ball. Perhaps they were.

“I’m going to go to the punch table,” she said. “See if I can sneak a glass without being noticed. You want anything?”

I hesitated. There was, but I couldn’t speak it. “No, I’m alright, “ I said.

She flashed a brief smile. “Okay. Be right back.”

I watched her walk over to the refreshment corner, careful to avoid as many people as she could. A few passed through her, but none had the effect that had overcome me at Brian’s house. Her gypsy dress swayed around her, her bare feet gliding across the polished floor. I couldn’t take my eyes away from how she moved with a slight swish of her dark hair as she lightly bounced up to the table. She reached for a glass of punch, and I turned my head away to see Donald out on the dance floor now acting like a fool. No, that wasn’t right. I was the only fool here.

A new song began. Bill Medley and Jennifer Warnes. I’ve Had The Time Of My Life. I looked to heaven as if to utter a prayer, and then went on the move. I dodged around dancers, shifting from foot to foot, graceful and fluid, as if I were Johnny Castle in the movie. I reached the table where Lori was standing. She had spotted me swaying towards her across the floor and was laughing at my antics. I bounded up to her and held out my hand with the biggest, bravest grin I could muster.

“Nobody puts baby in the corner,“ I drawled. “Not even herself.”

We both stood there a moment, me with my hand held out, and her savoring the moment. Finally she smiled and took my hand, allowing me to pull her out on the dance floor. We tried our best to emulate the signature moves from Dirty Dancing, but it was no use. I was no Patrick Swayze, and thank the stars she wasn’t a Jennifer Grey. But we were Christopher and Lori, having fun under the gym lights, and dancing the best we could, not caring how goofy our attempts to be footloose and fancy free might look. Only three other people in the whole place could see us anyway. Lori laughed as I spun her, one hand holding hers straight out from her, and the other lightly on her hip. Then someone scratched the record.

It was a loud, scraping sound, like long nails on a chalkboard, as the stylus needle was drawn across the black vinyl of the record, interrupting the whole mood. We turned our head to the DJ table and found him looking at his twin turntables in complete confusion. A hush fell over the room, except for a solitary snicker. Donald stood beside the DJ with a finger to his lips, grinning foolishly. Then the DJ’s second turntable started to spin a new song.

“Oh My God, “ Lori whispered, with an exasperated sigh. It was Whitesnake. The song, ‘Is This Love?’ began to play and she looked up into my face. “Well, it looks like you get your wish after all.”

“I don’t see a disco ball,” I replied.

“You can’t have everything. This is 87, not 79.”

I smiled. I did have everything. I pulled her close to me, and folded up into my arms easily. She lay her head against my shoulder as I began to sway with her in time to the power ballad. If you’d asked me days ago if I would be dancing with Lori O’Donnell in my arms to Whitesnake under the gym’s bright spotlights I would have accused of messing in the super weed, but tonight it was just as natural as breathing. The slow yet steady bass and drums of the song propelled us in slow circles to new dizzying heights of existence. We were truly ghosts now, because for me nothing else existed but the girl in my arms. And as the verse moved into the chorus, with the singer pondering the notion whether it’s love or a dream, Lori lifted her head to me and I kissed her. Her lips met mine softly, as if they had always belonged there, pressed against mine and breathing in my kiss. Her arms slipped around my neck, mine around her waist, and we danced so close we could have been one entity. And in this embrace, her hips swaying gently against mine, her mouth partially open on my own, I no longer felt like me. Now I was us, and nothing, not even the reaper himself could drag me away from this girl, this song, this dream. And no matter that the song ended four minutes later. We swayed, and turned, moving like forever lovers that none could separate through three more songs, our lips never once leaving the other.

 

Torture Me

Torture me

Within my caged innocence

Where devils make pleasure a mockery

Of the grand design of love

Drink from me

This very lifeblood that cries your name

In rivulets of crimson sorrow

To your moist waiting lips

Possess me

Completely, my love

Be the one

Who makes me sweat your name

Torture me

Make me plead

To be more like you

And more like me

Until we can’t see

Where one stops

And the other begins

Torture me…

Blood Red Passion: Her Vampire

​Her Vampire”

I saw the tears falling
From the sun’s very face,
And I buried myself
Deep in her lace;
Don’t let it take me,
No, not again,
Please let me stay here,
Touching her skin.

I saw the smile crossing
The smirk of the moon,
And I feared to myself
It will end soon,
So I took her affections,
And devoured them whole;
For I am her vampire,
And she is my soul.

By Paul D Aronson. All Rights Reserved.

Blood Red Passion: My Crimson Love

​My Crimson Love”

Sometimes I hate this lonely existence,
though my solitude has its merits;
I can hear the silence of darkness,
what beautiful music it makes.
While the others are busy talking,
I listen to the things they won’t hear;
The passing tick-tock-tick of time
that affects all around us…except me.

I have heard the inner voices
that people speak when they’re alone,
and I have acted on their thoughts
when they merely wished they could.
The greatest sadness is fantasizing,
and never having the will to pursue it,
like the life pursues the blood,
and the blood pursueth me.

Cast any look in the mirror,
tell me what it is you see;
a pale reflection perhaps
of who you could be if you wanted.
I don’t worry about the mirror,
I have cast useless vanity aside,
and become beautiful in my mind,
for that’s where it begins, as a thought.

My thoughts once called out,
and were received by a shadow,
from whom all earthly light had fled,
and darkness had embraced like a brother.
sweet sister, please do not cry,
for I am nothing as I was,
and the curse that had lain hold of me
is now my blessing to give to you.

Come to me and let me show you,
what lies behind the veil,
remove all inhibitions and worries,
for now I will show you the gift,
of surrender, renewal, temptation,
tasted from these ruby lips;
bare your skin to me that I may drink,
and return to you my crimson love.

By Paul D Aronson. All Rights Reserved.

Blood Red Passion: Come To Me

“Come To Me”

I’ve tried my best not to want you,
But how can I not,
When every smile from you
Brings shivers down my spine,
And a warmth to my body
I have not known before,
Yet have craved.

If I close my eyes again,
I can feel you touching me,
And though my heart says we shouldn’t,
I want you to take me,
And teach me how to love,
Wrapped in your arms.

I’ve tried my best not to want you,
But I want to feel your lips
On my pale tender neck
More than anything;
Please come to me tonight
Or I will come to you…
My vampire.

By Paul D. Aronson. All Rights Reserved.

Blood Red Passion: Red Snow

I recall a winter ages ago just like this,
snow on the ground and blood in her kiss,
splayed out on the earth under moonlight,
she lay across me her skin so white,
the truth from her lips quietly spilled
into my own with a shuddering thrill,
she told me to drink of her, rich and deep,
and as her cold embraced me I sank into sleep.

I dreamed of castles high on craggy steppes,
a girl who gave herself with her dying breath,
of her search for the love she had lost,
the price she had paid and at what cost;
and I saw myself as a different man there
with ocean blue eyes and long flowing blonde hair,
how they had killed one and suffered the other to live,
the dream washed over me with memories to give.

So that when I awoke in the snow once more,
the flakes falling around me a hundred score,
her blood reminded me of our common past,
and my eyes sprang open with the remembrance at last,
of her lily white skin and pale beating breast,
the dark of her eyes and her hand on my chest,
I remember the way her lips curled in a grin,
right before a kiss that said “please love me again.”

And as she gave me her blood, crimson and red,
on each other now we so anxiously fed,
until both were slated in the chill night air,
she lay her hand on my chest, labored and bare;
this new life we’d found in the rediscovery of youth,
soulmates once separated, united by a curse and the truth,
I recall a winter ages ago just like this,
snow on the ground and blood in her kiss.

By Paul D Aronson. All Rights Reserved.