I sit down on the snow when the night has just reached its darkest hour. There are barely any stars visible in the sky anymore and the moon is just a thin sliver about to be extinguished altogether. Tomorrow it will again be on its way back to full. Not that I’ll see it. I’ll be long gone by then.

I can feel the bloodlust rising in me. There’s no getting over it. Not anymore. There will be no mercy no solace will be given to me by bull’s blood bought from a supermarket where the glaring lights make my skin seem even whiter than usual. No taking the lives of rats or stray dogs scampering my way. No, no. This time the bloodlust will have no substitute, the blood must be human. Whether I want it or not is entirely irrelevant. By dawn I will have become a monster without will or conscience ruled entirely by its hunger. So I sit and wait.

Slowly the sky turns a very subtle shade of purple. I’m reminded of the purple in my lover’s dress the first time I saw her. But that was centuries ago. She rejected me when I was turned, told me I was a monster. She died an old woman with her extended family gathered around her with the first snow falling on my hair as I looked longingly on the scene from the shadows outside the window. I should have been the one holding her hand when she went beyond the veil.

I stare into the horizon, marveling at all the colors and hues presented to me by the rising sun. When the horizon turns blood red I am again reminded of my hunger. I can hear the small hearts of rodents beating all around me. Somewhere behind me in the woods there is the tap-tap-tap of the heart of a fox that’s getting ready to pounce on one of them.

The horizon is starting to turn pink and I prepare myself. I don’t have long to wait at all. Soon the first rays of sunshine will pierce the horizon and burn me. After that, no more hunger, no more pain, only the sweet release of death.
Just before sunrise the horizon turns a light blue and then there’s nothing but pain. Pain like I’ve never felt before and then nothing.