The Last Sun-Worshiper.

They look at me (the vampires) with a mix of curiosity, pity, and revulsion. I am the last of my kind, the last full-blooded human, the last of the sun-worshipers.

They don’t understand why I didn’t allow myself to be turned when I had the chance (I’m 90, too late now). They don’t understand why I would want to remain human, why I would want to live a limited life span with such limited senses.

And I don’t think they ever will.

They think that giving up the sun is worth gaining immortality. They are wrong. I would rather live a single day under the sun’s warmth, worshiping at the altar of Apollo,  than a thousand years under the cold glare of the lonely moon. 

They have forgotten what it’s like to walk under the sun’s light, to feel it’s heat as it slowly darkens their skin. There are no secrets under the burning gaze of Apollo. Everything is brighter, fuller. Hope and innocence radiate from the eyes of the children as they play under the yellow sky.

These days, there are no children. And there hasn’t been any in decades, unless you count the packs of werewolves that hunt at the fringes of the city ( failed attempts at turning children).

The vampires think they are no longer human, they think they have evolved into something better, something divine, godlike. They are wrong once agin. They are less human, but more destructive, more slothful, more gluttonous. The divine spirit of human achievement, what drew us from our caves and into cities seems to have abandoned this new race of being. They do what they want, when they want with little to no regard for consequences.

They view me as a relic, a walking, talking antiquity spewing stories no one wants to hear anymore.

Soon they won’t have to.

Soon the silly old woman with the wrinkled skin, and the white hair, and the creaking bones will no longer be a bane to their fun.

The small vile of poison that I clutch to my chest will make sure of that. I had a devil of a time getting it, but it was worth it. When I get to the park, I will sit on my favorite park bench, and greet the rising sun one last time before downing its contents.

The vampires will have retreated to their underground lairs and boarded up homes. Which means there will be no witness to my last moments on earth.

Except for my beloved Apollo. He who reigns the morning sky, he will lift my battered soul into his chariot, and take me up to the sky. My cold carcass will be all that is left of me, a curiosity that will soon be torn apart and scattered, and ultimately forgotten as one would a bad dream.

I look forward to that.

I look forward to leaving this world behind.
   

END..   


I found this while I was going through my old stories. I thought it would be appropriate to polish it off and post it considering it's Halloween tomorrow. I hope you enjoy.

WARNING: It's not been beta read, so expect some grammar and tense mistakes.