• Keri Heath

Loving the Sun

Winston stared out the window longingly at the brightening sky. Another night's end, another day of waiting. He sighed and licked the blood off his pointed teeth. The fresh taste of the night's hunt still lingered in his mouth. It had been delicious and it would see him through, but he still watched the sunrise forlornly.

It wasn't Winston's fault that he was a creature of darkness, a child of the night, a monster of shadow and a lord of the lightless. He just really loved the sun. Though he always retreated before the sun actually crested the horizon, Winston loved watching its warm, soft glow. He just wanted to know what it felt like to stand outside with its light on his face, its heat spreading over his cold, undead skin.

Of course, he wasn't stupid. Last year, the guy who liked to hang out by the crypt - a little on the nose, but to each their own - had got caught outside at sunrise. He'd been lured by a particularly tasty looking human and when he turned around, there was the sun. Poof. Dust. It happened that quick.

Winston sighed again and closed the thick black out curtains on the sun. It was time. Of course, he tried to remind himself of its brilliance while he was stuck inside. He'd painted little drawings of suns all over the abandoned house he'd made into his lair. There were pictures of sunny fields and beaches and bright streets in Italy hanging everywhere. A mobile of suns and clouds slowly swiveled from the living room ceiling. As he settled in for the day, Winston turned on the TV - always shows with sunny, bright scenes. Today it was Lion King.

Winston liked to drink coffee while he watched TV. Of course, as a vampire, the stimulation did absolutely nothing for him, but he liked the thought of drinking coffee, waking up with the rest of the world. He once had tried to make some eggs to go with his coffee, but the mere smell of them made him gag and run out of the room. Human food was just disgusting.

Sometimes, especially on the days he stayed by the window dangerously long, he'd lay out a towel, turn on the lamp and sit in the glow, pretending he was at the beach. He'd try to remember what it had been like when he was human to feel the heat on his skin, but he'd been a vampire for hundreds of years now. The memory was gone.

On the one hand, he was glad to be a vampire. Humans were stupid and slow and died and their bodies were ugly and gross. He loved being a child of the night and stalking his prey every night. It gave him purpose. But sometimes, when he was feeling particularly melancholy, he wondered if it had been worth it, becoming what he was and giving up the sun.

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