i_wantmortality (i_wantmortality) wrote in we_coexist, @ 2011-09-01 15:57:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | nick knight |
Still Undead (narrative)
Nick opened his eyes slowly. Was he dead? Was this the afterlife, at last?
He looked around in confusion. He was laying on concrete in a city, but not Toronto. He knew that in an instant, by the sounds, the smells, the lack of the CN Tower looming above the City in any direction. But...he should be dead. He asked LaCroix, begged him to release him from his torment. And what of Natalie? Was she dead, as he should have been?
In a moment of hope, he wondered if perhaps he was mortal. If somehow, upon his sacrifice at LaCroix's helping hands, he, like Janette, had crossed back over. But a moment's reflection told him he was...thirsty. He bared his fangs, his eyes glowing yellow even in the darkness. A low growl began, ending it a singe shouted word.
"LACROIX!"
How could he do this? How, after all this time, could he have denied Nick this one, final request? As he lowered his gaze from the heavens, he noticed the light had already begun to change. Dawn was upon him. He didn't know where he was, or how he got here, but he knew one thing for certain- he had to find shelter. Now.
Getting up from the hard ground, he drew his trenchcoat collar up around his neck, and reaching into his pocket and finding his sunglasses, put them on to protect his eyes. Not long. He didn't have nearly enough time to find a safe spot. He began to run, rounding the corner and for the first time felt a sense of relief.
His caddy stood in the still dim light in the distance, the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. There was no mistaking it; it had the same San Remo Turquoise paint job and the same Ontario plates-35H MV6.
He began to run, reaching the trunk of the car just as the sun peaked over the horizon. Patting himself down, he found his keys in the pocket of his jeans. As he fumbled with the lock, smoke was beginning to rise from the back of his coat. Burn! It burned! The key at last reaching home, he threw open the trunk and climbed inside, taking one last look at the strange City. He let the trunk shut with the protective, reassuring click and curled up into a fetal position. Where was he?
Slow, red tears began to leak from the corner of his eye.
"Oh, Nat. I'm sorry. I tried."
Perhaps he should have let the sun take him. But suicide by his own hands had never been an option if he sought redemption. And there was nothing he wanted more.