FUENTE


Zhaidy organized the books on the shelves using her innate artistic sense (the books were her palette of the painter)
She told herself that books -such as food- entered through the eyes and had a special way of locating them, not only for themes but taking into account the combination of colors and figures on their covers and this made the person who bought one inwardly will schedule to return to acquire the another one next.


Suddenly she felt something like an itch on the back of her neck, that discomfort that produces an insistent look. She turned around with a movement studiously casual and saw him. Oh, another vampire, of course.
Sometimes one of these happened encounters, a cross of looks, something of curiosity (from a distance
always) part and part and finally the distance ...


She continued her work, but the discomfort persisted. He looked her . He had in his hand a book that he leafed through without seeing. He turned again and held his gaze. Common face, nothing special, dark hair, strong complexion ... but there was something ... disturbing in his look (even for her). And she noticed the medallion hanging from his neck.


She was paralyzed. He was wearing a black shirt unbuttoned and there, on his chest, the legendary medallion. With its particular form. And even at that distance she could recognize the mythical signs. Her lips trembled, she noticed immediately he held back a mocking smile. A storm was unleashed in the mind and feelings of Zahidy: he could free her ... if he decided, if he wanted to.
The Myth was in front of her and he was real. He was the only one who used
(the only one that could use) that medallion. And he was the only one who could free her of the curse, the only one who could make her human ... again.


She approached him. He looked at her in a strange way ... that she couldn't decipher.
-That medallion ... you are ...
She was not able to continue. He simply nodded:
-Yes it is.
-And you ... only you can ...
-I can ... if I want.
He emphasized the last two words and remained silent. He continued thumbing through the book, now going through the illustrations with the seen, as if they had suddenly become very important for he. As if he were alone.


Zahidy was outraged:
-You were looking at me.
-And you at me?
-You know who I am.
-I know what you are, I don't know who you are. There is a difference there.
-I did not want ... I did not want ... I do not want to be like I am. You can help me.
The dialogue had developed without visual contact because he persisted in seeing the illustrations in the book. Now he looked up and with a sudden voice, he rasped:
-And to me ... Who helps me?


-But you...
-Yes, I know nobody can do it. Actually ... I don't need it ... I don't want it ... My ancestry is very old, I can say it with pride
However there was bitterness in his voice, Zahidy noticed it immediately.
He looked her and say:

• But I did not choose either. I did not choose for me ... Why choose for you?
  
  
  He insisted in talked her with irony in his voice. Zahidy, furious, turned her back to him. What did she want? What could she offer in return? The incipient hope vanished giving way to a sharp frustration.
  She turned around again ... he was gone.
  Alone again in front of the bookshelf
  she felt, however, his presence there, disturbing, as if something
  of his essence would have been left behind. She approached the door
  quickly, she looked out, down the sidewalk , down the
  avenue ... nothing. No sign. She thought that she would not see him anymore ... wishing
  to be wrong about it ... and not knowing that she really was.
  
  
  

  In the next chapter we will know who was the first vampire ... You will be surprised!

  
  
  
  

  If you want to read the chapter one,
  please, click here: 1

I want to share you the tale that gives name to a book of stories that I published with the editorial "Project Expressions" of @joseph1956 a few years ago. I shared it in six chapters, I hope you like it.