Awaiting the Day

(Really short vampire story)

Cortes gazed out over the nearby rooftops. It was still a while before sunrise and he had made his decision. He just wished the day would begin soon so his life could end; just a second was still too much time alone with his own thoughts. He tried to think of other things, things besides Lujuana and Kiyo. He thought of the view from the rooftops in Casares, where he had grown up. This miserable little city could not even compare but he had long ago decided that he could never go back. So much had changed since then, both good and bad; although a lot more bad than good. He decided not to linger on either too much because it always led towards the bad and today was special, today it would all end. Throughout the night he had come to a decision and that decision made him the happiest he’d ever been in…well, it had been too long. It would all start by climbing up to the roof and watching the sun rise. He felt the warmth slowly creeping through the city as dawn approached, the chill air of the night losing its crispness. He felt a pang of fear, merely instinct he told himself, and continued to watch the brightening sky to the East. As the sun finally burst over the horizon he felt pain as the first few layers of his skin turned instantly to ash and slowly started to blow away in a soft breeze. Whatever it was that made the sun destroy his kind started to work on the next few layers, burning deeper (he doubted it was simply the UV rays. He’d been under UV bulbs several times and hadn’t felt any discomfort whatsoever). The pain was excruciating but he relished it. The end was so near.

Time seemed to slow and his mind flickered through his life, all 95 years, despite his earlier decision to try and repress all thoughts. It had been troubled, that much he was sure of. He had slaughtered Lujuana, the woman he loved, when he had first been changed. Untrained and let loose by a master he would never meet. He went ravaging through Spain during the civil war and ended up in the Philippines during World War II always hiding, always hungry, and constantly alone. That was until he had met Kiyo while hiding in the United States. She had taught him how to control his hunger but he was left devastated by the memories of what he had done earlier never completely forgiving himself. Through Kiyo, he found out how few of his kind there were left (thinking, for a long time, that they were the only two). He found out how they had been hunted down and slaughtered throughout the ages because of mistakes like the ones he had made, letting his hunger take control. She had helped him move on despite being unable to forget. His memories that never faded with the passing of time. Now she was gone. He was alone again and it was his fault, now wasn't the time to dwell on that.

He felt the pain slice deeper, starting to tear into vital parts, and was back in the here and now. He wanted so badly to close his eyes and lay back to enjoy his death but the view was so beautiful. He didn’t want to miss the first sunrise he’d seen since 1936. The sun crept slowly but surely upwards, taking his life along the way. To where, he did not know, did not care. As larger pieces of his flesh began to break off and vanish in the breeze, he lost consciousness. Within a few seconds the pillar of ash that had once been a happy and loving husband turned desolate and lonely monster blew away in the increasing breeze. Nobody below in the city would ever know that he even existed. Francisco Cortes along with his anguish and all his woes was no more.