“Hey, wanna go out, I read your profile and it’s very catchy” that’s what he sent me as a message on a dating website. A good way to approach someone, I guessed, so I sent him my number. After several conversations, he asked me out. We agreed to a place, though I had no idea where was that place. But I did go anyway.
I didn’t recognize him at first sight, for he had shown me photos with special effects and that sort of things. He was wearing a long leather coat, with leather pants, long boots, and lots of jewelry on his left hand and arm. But his face, that was something else. Starting from his hair, dreadlocks, but raised into a Mohawk, his face was painted white, with his eyes lined with black and black lipstick, and he had fangs! Artificial, he got them at a dentist as I found out later. He was a Goth, something I have been looking for a very long time, and I finally found.
He approached me and whispered with the deepest voice I ever heard “you must be here for me”. I looked at him with astonishment and went all silent for a moment. He raised his hand to my shoulder and pressed hard on them “you have a fine posture, and your skin is amazing” he exclaimed. Things went good.
We went out several times later on, the conversation where normal. Football, cars, food, music, cultures. One day the whole concept of the supernatural was brought up. We thoroughly discussed the ideas of magic, witchcraft, paganism, wiccans, and other aspect of the topic. He couldn’t but appraise my knowledge and interest concerning the whole topic of the supernatural. That meeting ended by a phrase that echoed for quite some time… “Perhaps, we will discover more about that topic by ourselves next time”
He invited me to his place for the next meeting. His apartment smelled funny. The smell of blood and rotting dominated all smells. “Come in, we will do something different this time” smiling and revealing his fangs. He guided me into a room painted black with weird symbols and writings all over. “Witchcraft?” I said. “Beyond, way beyond witchcraft dear…. Necromancy!” he replied. He prepared me up for the ritual by a bathing in a special solution and placing me on the altar “you will be my medium for today” he hummed while fetching some equipment from a commode. He placed a dagger, a needle attached to fine tube, a grail and two black robes on a table. “We need some of your blood, if it’s okay with you” I moved my shoulders as in saying yes. He approached me and injected the needle into my radial artery, and filled half the grail; he added some powders and bones to it later on after taking few sips from it, and placed it on the left side of the altar. He instructed me to strip off my clothes and wear the robe, and hold the dagger in my left hand. He stripped down and wore the robe and stood in a circle drawn on the floor… He spoke in a weird language, things started shaking, papers started flying, and the blood in the grail started boiling. The grail fell, blood flooded on the altar and got scattered all over me. “Cut your right palm with the dagger now” he yelled, and so I did. I felt something in me move, my heart pounded harder and faster, I bathed in my own sweat, and my breath ceased. Things dimmed, and I blacked out. I woke up to the feeling of something moist on my hand. He was sucking the blood from my hand which I cut before. “We called for Belial, chief of demons, and I have to drink your blood to spare you some of his evil and so I can gain some of the underworld knowledge”. He cut his wrist and offered me his blood in return. It was the first time I tasted blood, and an addiction was born after which. That red fluid tasted like nothing I have ever tasted. It was orgasmic, that velvet warm feeling in my mouth. I sucked on his wrist vigoursly, and found it hard to stop; he pushed me away after a while. I left later on with a terrible headache.
He taught me about the dark path and necromancy on the following days. I started practicing some black magic on my own; I even participated in some black mass ceremonies. I suffered from terrible nightmares the following weeks. He told me it is something normal, “the demons don’t like to be disturbed, and they have to punish whoever calls for them”.
We went out days later for a walk near the sea. After a long walk, we got thirsty, “I shall bring beer for refreshment” he claimed, I was 14, and an underage so I refused. But he had a strong influence on me; he convinced me that a can won’t hurt. He kissed me, and went to the shop across the street. The sound of tires scratching against asphalt shook me, and my heart plundered upon hearing the sound of a crash. I sensed something was wrong. I walked with discomfort towards the source of the sound. I saw him a lying on the street, impaled with a part of the car, with his precious blood forming a pond next to him. The earth stood still for years as I approached him, everything went silent, and the sun was nowhere to be seen. The sea was black, and the crowded street was deserted. I took his face into my chest, and wept blood. I felt him move, I asked him to stay still, but he looked me in the eyes and said “you made a very miserable and unhappy person very happy, your soul is blessed….and your blood, don’t spill it anymore”. Azreal descended to claim back his soul; it stabbed him with its claws, and ripped out the essence of life. I watched him die helplessly.
He died that day, leaving me alone after he planted the seeds of vampiric lust and addiction, darkness, and cruelty. He left me a fiend dwelling among those creatures called humans. A raptured soul, disfigured by darkness, tempted by the will of power, destroyed by hatred and contempt.