Passion

I loved the night–it made me feel alive. Long ago, the nights were quiet, and hardly another soul would be out on the streets late at night. Electric street lights had changed everything, and I was ecstatic. 

The nights were so alive, and I revelled in it. 

Over the years I’d gotten very good at blending in to my surroundings. My soul was hundreds of years old, but unless you knew my secret I would just be any other twenty-something looking for a fun night on the town. It suited me well, and I was happy that I could adapt so well. 

Every night I laid my trap, and every night I came home with a prize. 

The night was mine, and I intended for it to stay that way. I refused to share my territory with any other members of my kind. I was known as a loner, so I did recieve challenges over the years, but this loner did not give in to a fight. 

I left my enemies broken and bleeding as the sun rose over the city. 

Word of my prowess and ferocity spread like wildfire through the ranks of those who stalked the night. Some were still incredulous, but they suffered the same fate. They had to die–they were a threat to me and mine. 

I didn’t kill my nightly victims, but I did enjoy the thrill of the hunt. 

I had a fantastic home and I loved the pace of the night life. I would do what I needed to protect myself and others around me. We all deserved safety, and I was the best creature for the job. Blood would run in the streets, but only if someone dared to cross my path. 

I looked forward to seeing how the next one hundred years would change.