Inside Closed Eyes

I'd heard they could do that, but I had never believed it and had written it off as simple superstition, as stupid as that may sound when you consider the fact that things like them were thought of as nothing but the insane superstitions of ignorant backwoods, East European peasants when my parents were kids.

"Yeah. My sister." I replied. "She was killed when we were children by ..."

I stopped, realizing that if I made a mistake, I was dead. I mean D-E-A-D, fucking dead, if I made the mistake of blatently informing him that I knew.

"By one of my kind." he added.

Oh, he knew! I'd fucked up. If they didn't get here fast, I was dead. I knew that much. He'd kill me, suck my blood out and wallow in it. He'd be unstoppable then for a time.

"If it's any consolation ..." he paused, as if searching for the right words. "Well, I'm

sorry; even tho I know it doesn't change things or stave off the loss."

He looked at the floor and didn't say a word.

I was shocked, but of course it was too late. I'd never expected that one of the things could be capable of sympathy or other emotions and it made me realize that I'd made a mistake, for at that very moment, the front door was flung open and a sea of red faces, flushed with anger and sweat had rushed in like a flood and overwhelmed him.

Of course, I'd been the one to make the call as I'd seen him toiling over the broken down car. I'd been the one who called for this death squad.

And I could hear his screaming outside as I closed the door and the bright hue of a conflagration shone on the dusty window panes.

That penetrating scream, like the sound of a breaking spirit.

I close my eyes, and for the first time, in the darkness there is a silence.