Each Dawn I Die.

Each Dawn I Die.

Mornings always bring a sense of despair within me. My heart aches knowing what must happen at the break of dawn. Doesn’t seem to matter to the wakers of the world. Those who dwell in the daylight hours of the day will never understand the anguish within my soul. Just as they start the daily routine that keeps them in sync with the living, I start my descent into nothingness once more.

Never did understand the line between life and death. Made no sense to someone like me, a person damned to never experience eternal rest. Seeking out the comfort of night as dusk brings my rebirth and sense of living. I’m immortal and full of unlimited power; only to have it snatched away at the first light of dawn. Bones in a grave and flesh for mere hours every night eternally cursed to walk the streets in solitude. How old am I? It is uncertain. The world moves quite fast when you are cognizant for hours each night. I’ve seen the people move from wagons to carriages to motor cars in a matter of centuries, and I am older than that.

My clearest memories aren’t of childhood as I don’t believe I was always eternal. The memories come from what I believe to be my maker of sorts. Elderly gentleman with a hat full of parts and a young woman, perhaps his apprentice, would talk to me every day. Yes, I remember day. In my mind I was alive. The young woman would dance with me and touch the side of my face a lot. I adored her smile. She was very familiar to me; short red hair, uncombed but quite fashionable, petite, thin and different. Not like me; truly alive. The gentleman, however, he frightened me. He always wore thin spectacles and his white hair quite overgrown intertwined with his beard masking his face. Can it be his intention to set me about in this manner as a punishment? Sending me out as a prisoner of the night, a monstrosity, with none like me would be considerably cruel. But these are the thoughts and questions left of the faint moments I can not place. I’m certain they will lead to my understanding.

As you can imagine, a home is an unattainable challenge for an oddity as myself. For the most part I hang my hat in graveyards. As the dead are as close to friends as I will ever be able to rely upon. Some might call it spooky to dwell in the company of the dead. Necessity is what I call it. The indulgence of company is something that I enjoy on very few occasions. There are times I am quite lonely and spend the waking hours seeking out comfort in the arms of another only to find myself and belongings swept out in the trash at the break of dawn. Understandable as most ladies wouldn’t much enjoy waking up next to a pile of bones. Can you imagine the horror of that? Quite Frightening.

Death isn’t as painful as you might think. It’s quite unpleasant. I won’t lie and say it tickles. The moments are intense just before, and it feels like perhaps each time I’ll never return to life. The flesh of my arms tingles and slowly begins to disappear into nothing, as follows my legs, then the muscles tear away into strips, organs slowly disintegrate and once I can no longer see or hear the feeling of being pulled apart in silence remains. Then there is nothing. I can not give you instructions on what happens when I am gone. There is no light at the end of the tunnel. No pearly gates for me. Waking is almost immediate to me as leaving. My memories of the night are all that I’m afforded upon my rebirth. Which returning is something like awaking from a bump on the head. It isn’t restful. I don’t dream. As soon as I’m gone, I’ve returned. Whole. Painless. To me, there is no day, only night.

Night after night, I’ve been making my way across the world in hopes of finding my maker’s whereabouts. Throughout my hunt it is my hope to find another lost soul, damned like myself, to live in torment. There must be others. Perhaps it is my desire that the red haired beauty of my memories is cursed with the same affliction. So much kindness was in that smile. Just the recollection brings comfort to my unsettled mind. Ah, but it is simply a brief moment of peace in an eternal night that shows no sign of surrender. My heartbeat quickens and the skin of my hand tightens. The darkness is deceitful tonight. There are clouds moving in and shielding the emergence of day. Time is short here. Like a madman closing in… the break of light. Welcome day. Welcome death.