The Dark Sire Issue 1 (Fall 2019) | Page 59

They bound her hands and ankles, and stretched the ropes so as to spread-eagle her across the heavy oaken front doors of the church. She pleaded with them as the sun began to claw its way over the horizon. She cursed them as they fell to their knees and began to pray for her soul. They lowered their heads, clutching their beads and thumping their chests in supplication as the sun’s killing rays fell fully upon her and burned her to ashes. In a small corner of his soul her screams still echoed. And now, so many years later, the innocent young girl stood on the bridge, her back to him, leaning over the rail, amused by the shimmering lights reflecting on the surface of the murky water below. It was a summer evening, warm but not hot. The traffic on the bridge was momentarily heavy as those who had been attending the park band’s concert in the gazebo along the canal headed home. Her youth, beauty and innocence had captured his attention. His intentions were anything but beautiful and innocent. Of late his diet had consisted primarily of rodents and the occasional house pet, but he knew that would not satisfy his cravings this night. If he were to truly follow through with his plan he would need the strength from one final feeding. Though his poor eating habits had begun to erode his appearance, the smooth, hypnotic strength of his voice had been enough to ensnare her. “Did you enjoy the concert?” he asked quietly, stepping to the rail beside her. “Oh yes,” she answered breathlessly. Without turning or looking up at him she knew that he had been 57