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The poker chips, those treacherous tokens of hope, clatter together like bones rattling in a grave, taunting me with their gleaming presence. It’s a symphony of defeat, a haunting melody that whispers in my ear, reminding me of the impending loss that looms over my head like a dark cloud of shame.
My opponents, Marcus and Alexander, exchange smirks across the table, their eyes glistening with triumph and mischief. The two devils are reveling in my misery and delighting in my self-inflicted torment.
I curse myself for ever agreeing to this foolish game and for falling into their wicked trap. Their constant pestering wore me down, but as they both seem to be winning, I regret my moment of weakness.
Alexander, with his golden locks and luminous green eyes, chuckles softly. “Hey, chill out, X. It’s just a game, man.”
I glare at him, feeling the anger bubbling within me. “Just a game? I’ve lived for three hundred years. I’ve witnessed the birth and death of kings, the rise and fall of empires, and endured wars, famines, and plagues. Yet, I still can’t seem to win at this infernal fucking game.”
“Because you’re so predictable, dude. You keep pulling the same moves over and over again without even learning from your slip-ups,” he comes back with a grin. “You know what? Maybe it’s time to give a different strategy a shot.”
My fangs protrude slightly as I bare my teeth. “Don’t call me dude, and I am not predictable,” I growl.
Being a vampire, my body operates in stark contrast to that of a human. While I can endure consuming human food and drink, it fails to provide the nourishment I require. Blood, on the other hand, stands as the unequivocal preference and sustenance for my body. I have the ability to sweat and regulate my temperature, but too much daylight is like kryptonite to my being. It saps my strength and leaves me feeling drained. While I’m not necessarily afraid of bursting into flames, the sun is most definitely my adversary. Thankfully, I crave the comforting embrace of the night and all the shadows it holds. The darkness is my ally, and I gladly take refuge in its cloak.
In addition to my physiological traits, I possess a range of extraordinary abilities that set me apart from humans. My senses are extremely sharp, and I can see in the dark, hear whispers from great distances, and smell the slightest hint of blood in the air. My physical strength is unmatched, and I can lift heavy objects with ease and overpower even the strongest of enemies. I have the power to beguile others, bending their will to mine with a single gaze while I pull their strings like a master puppeteer.
Despite the advantages, being a vampire also has its share of disadvantages. Stakes pose a real danger, and a single puncture through my heart could kill me instantly. If I were somehow decapitated and set on fire, I wouldn’t return from the grave.
Silver causes my flesh to blacken and leaves me weak until the silver is removed. It’s a shortcoming that I have to live with. And while myths like garlic, crucifixes, and holy water have no effect on me, werewolf bites pose a significant threat. The pain is excruciating, and it leaves me crippled and vulnerable to further attacks. It’s something that I try to avoid at all costs. But despite my powers and abilities, it seems that poker is my fatal flaw. No matter how hard I try, I can never seem to master the game. It’s a frustrating weakness to have.
Marcus eyes me suspiciously, his brow furrowed in concern. “What, pray tell, has precipitated this disconcerting state of yours? It is most uncommon to behold such manifestations of irritability and restlessness emanating from you, considering your customary temperament.”
I lean back in my chair, feeling the weight of the centuries on my shoulders. I have the luxury of time, allowing me to pursue my interests and indulge in my desires without fear of aging or dying.
But how much time is too much?
How long can I walk this earth and not grow tired of it all?
It is not a trivial thing to be immortal; the world keeps changing, and we have to evolve and alter our ways constantly to fit in with the times. While Alexander and I have managed to adjust to some extent, Alexander more so than me, Marcus persists in his antiquated manner of speech, as if he still lives in the bygone era of the seventeenth century.
“It’s nothing,” I reply, trying to shake off my malaise. I don’t want to tell him the truth—that being immortal is starting to feel more like a curse than the blessing I once thought it was.
“Verily, you persist in uttering falsehoods,” Marcus insists, his voice unwavering. “Our bond, meticulously forged and steadfastly tested over the span of two centuries, has endowed me with an intimate familiarity with every idiosyncrasy that defines you. I implore you, do not compel me to resort to invoking a truth spell upon you, thereby compelling you to unveil the undeniable verity of the present circumstance.”
“You wouldn’t dare, because I’ll rip out your spine and suck the blood from your vertebrae before you can even finish the incantation, friend or not.”
Marcus doesn’t bother to address my threat since he knows it’s as harmless as a wooden stake to a vampire made of stone. I would never harm him or Alexander; they are my companions, my friends, and the only family I have.
Instead, he smirks and replies, “I shall bestow my trust upon your utterances. I beseech you, sheathe your fangs, and kindly unveil unto me the profound cause of your present condition.”
My gaze travels through my home; the only source of light in the living room is a series of candles flickering in their holders, casting shadows across the walls and ceiling. I have long since given up on the crystal chandelier that swings from the ceiling, preferring the warm and natural glow of flames. The darkness adds to the atmosphere of the room, giving it a certain mystique that enhances my allure as a creature of the night.
My bookshelves are filled with ancient tomes and volumes of knowledge spanning centuries, each one containing the secrets of the universe that I have uncovered over my long life. I often find solace in reading, losing myself in the words and stories of humanity.
Rich tapestries depicting battles and conquests adorn the walls, and the air is rich with the scent of aged leather and rich, smoky incense. The furniture is heavy and ornate, a reflection of my collective love for luxury and indulgence, but even the opulence can’t mask the sense of discontent that lingers within me. I long for something new, something that will ignite my senses and remind me of why I choose to continue existing in this world, but here I am still playing poker with the same two fools I’ve known for centuries.
Standing up abruptly, I push my chair back with a screech as I pace the room, my body moving fluidly like a panther ready to pounce.
“I’m bored,” I announce, my voice echoing in the stillness. “All we seem to do is drink, gamble, and fuck, and I may as well drive a stake through my own black heart if that is the grand sum of my life.”
Marcus raises an eyebrow. “Are you implying that you are weary of existence?”
“No, I’m not tired of living. I’m tired of merely existing.” I look around the luxurious room, feeling suffocated by the extravagance that surrounds me. “I want more than this endless cycle of hedonism and debauchery.”
“You appear to embody the characteristics of a disheartened adolescent.”
I shoot Marcus a withering look. “Don’t compare me to a human teenager. They have the luxury of growing up, growing old, and dying. I have none of those things. I am stuck watching as the world changes around me, but I remain the fucking same. It’s maddening.”
