Monday, September 19, 2011

Evading the Dark Persuer (Vampires on the trail of men and their desires, borne of the will to see beyond the day and the encroaching darkness, he must move onward to the edge of the dream)

Ron Koppelberger
Evading the Dark Pursuer
He suggested, hinted at the lifeblood and ancestry of rival factions and hunters in eventide sun. He rode the stallion through desert beds of ancient gully; the water was scarce in the midst of the chase, nevertheless he had his canteen. He took a sip and stitched the bottle back onto his hip.
They were closer than three miles of dust, sand and dry desert wind. He moved on patting the black skinned horse on the neck, his hand came away slick with the animals perspiration. The vampires never rested even in noon day sun, they were a certain brand, a breed made for daylight hunts. Although sensitive to the suns heat and glowing rays they wore heavy, dark robes and shadowy face masks. They were a persistent breed allowing only twilight avatars to press forward through their territory, all others were fair game.
He rode and the sky became red in great slashes of color, red like the essence of life, the blood they eagerly sought. He looked back and distant ripples of mist, dust and three pinpoints in black secured their place on the backward horizon. Rare stories said escape, farewells and long breaths of respite were in the reverie of a distant illusion. They’d persist, unless, he thought they found prayer, found the god of their source. Squat boulders and an oasis of tumbleweed lay ahead, he’d rest there; perhaps he’d make his stand in hopes the vampires would fall to worship.
They derived their power from an ethereal enchantment and were in constant debt to the source of their bloodlust. They were prone to long breaths of unconscious worship when confronted with the source of their power, during worship they were vulnerable, even helpless in trances oblivious. It was a chance at salvation, he climbed off of the stallion and surveyed the large stones, the sand and sage brush in the tiny clearing.
He didn’t have any choice, he pulled out the sharp blade he had fastened to his side. With a quick slash his palm bleed bright red droplets of blood. Moving to the front of the largest rock he drew a semicircle in blood. The design was a vampire symbol and sacred to the worship of their breed. It was his only hope.
The sun approached the horizon and spears of pointed light illuminated the boulders face. The vampire riders paused and got down from their horses. Their eyes shifted between each other and in unison they knelt down to pray.
The vampires had become the prey. They were oblivious as he severed their heads one by one. It had been a close call, he’d have to be on his guard now. There would be others and when they discovered the trio they’d be relentless.
He mounted his horse and headed North West toward the mountains and a chance at freedom.

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