The fairies dispicable journal entry 2

It is 2:22 am and I creep slowly beyond the posted sign and into the open field that I love to play in during the evening. I can see everything in the darkness--even without the moon. I look up and yes, there is the star. The bright one. Venus sits in the darkness and stares back at me. The brightest and most beautiful star of the heavens will watch me hunt tonight.

 

I welcome her gaze and her vigil she keeps with me. Something in the back of my mind tells me to watch for coyote but I have no feeling that he will join us this night. Coyote, Wolf--does it really matter which standard that I use? Reaching into my pouch,I withdraw a hand full of glittery ectoplasm and drape it in the breeze. I feel the magic pass through my cold body and replenish it with the voices of the ones before me. They have enmity for me,no doubt but they are bound. Bound as they may be they moan in regret of my curse.

That is usually when I smell them. Just as I drape the dust, I recognize the scent of the human body. There are always certain idiots who tend to wander too far when smoking their cigarettes. And any of them who wander this time of night deserve the fate they recieve.

I do not really wish to share the details of my betrayal. It is ugly and quite unlady-like. There is no longer a remorse for them. I save my remorse for my writing. I put all my darkness into pen and paper or the keyboard. I share nothing of what I must do because your imagination can fill in the rest. I read your words and I love the way you describe things that you see within your mind's eye. I love your vampire stories and how you strive to feel as they do. But, if you could join me this night, you would put down your pen forever in horror of the brutality reality offers up to you. You cannot complete it. You shy away from what you do not understand. YOur stomach turns and you do not know why.

*sprinkle more faerie dust upon the ground before stepping through the cemetary gate. Runs to the stone and falls upon her face. Tears burn her skin and neck. She looks up and traces the letters with her bloody hand.*

I miss you mother. But I hunt this night on your kind because your light is absent.