When I first opened my eyes to the world, I was amazed at what I saw. The world, as I knew it, was full of wonders, fresh sights and smells and sounds. Ready to leave my hometown and follow my destiny for life.
It was exciting at first, getting to travel. I visited new places and drank new food. But after some time I was ready to settle down.
My boyfriend was a handsome enough guy. We spent our days catching up at our favourite bar, drinking our favourite nectar cocktail. From there I broadened my friend circle. Everyone came from the same rough life; everyone had a story to tell. It was a gritty way for us to bond.
If I knew everyone was going to die, I wouldn’t have bothered at all.
I think Cecelia was the first one. She had always wanted to be a dreamy mother, the sort who sings her babies to sleep. She wanted to be different. Not like her mother, who never cared.
She went off with her boyfriend, but the next time I saw her… she was dead. I still remember that night; the room was cloaked in shadows dancing on the wall, the moon shone bright and true. Cecelia was on the floor. She was the wrong way round and her legs were twisted at an awkward angle.
We held a candlelit virgil for her that night under the moon, but we didn’t have much time to grieve, for we heard footsteps and we had to flee.
Her boyfriend just…broke. It was mostly in his eyes, empty and lost. The world was gray. The rest of us knew though that the universe was sending us a message. Death was always knocking, breathing into our faces.
If we weren’t careful one of us would be next.
Still people were determined. The next few days were horrible. I watched, my heart torn apart by grief and pain, as one by one my friends died. All of them wanted kids like Cecelia did, but life never gave them a chance. Some died in the toilet. Others simply vanished off the face of the earth. Then that fog rolled in, which painted everything gray and picked the rest off.
Their faces haunted me. Twitching legs, eyes completely melted off. Their faces, pleading for mercy.
It was at this point that my boyfriend persuaded me to conceive. I was the last girl left. If I didn’t attempt to continue the bloodline, then our little community, already down to very few people, would be gone forever.
So I went into the nearest house. Getting pregnant was a hungry business. To prepare for my babies, I needed a special meal.
I found someone and got to work. Its blood tasted delicious. Like honey.
But I had just started when I felt the cold hard stares on my back. Then a shadow of a hand plummeted on me, and I knew it was all over.