This is my story, inspired greatly by Lyrical Lemons story "I love Nightmares."
If you have any questions, please ask, because I will most likely not cover them in the story.


He was still their,
Still their, right their,
Close enough to reach out and touch.
But he couldn’t, he had to pull his mind away from the boy.
And then he was gone,
Gone for another day,
Another day before he could see him again.
He didn’t know why this boy stayed in his thoughts.
Didn’t know why the boys face had to torture him,
Especially now, in this time,
When demons were not safe, even in disguise.
When people just had to say a word, and priests would come,
Come to drive out the unholy menace.
Night after night, he watched the boy go by, and night after night, he hid himself, and watched from the shadows.
He was tired of it.
He wanted to see the boy face to face.
Just to see him.
To see if he was as beautiful as before, as beautiful as all the past times.
So he put on an illusion.
He disguised himself as a low. A street dweller.
And the boy came by, as he always did,
And stopped, as he always did.
And then he looked around, and saw him.
He looked into the others eyes, and then he knew what he was.
But he didn’t run, He didn’t call for help.
He stayed.
He stayed still, and they watched each other for an eternity,
An eternity that lasted for only a minute,
And then a bell rang, the curfew bell, and the boy jumped, and then he ran.
And the other ran too, because curfew meant the hunters, and death to all demons who think they can challenge the church.
He ran back to His hole, to his refuge on earth, and the boy once again stayed in his thoughts.
But now his mind lingered on things.
It lingered on his hair, the soft brown hair that hung lank on his shoulders.
It lingered on his lips, full and innocent, bursting with questions.
And his eyes.
His eyes, showing right down to his soul.
And his soul, reaching out and trying to touch the other.
His soul, which was not so innocent as it looked.
His soul, which was troubled, haunted with thoughts against the church
Thoughts against the cross that everyone, even him, wore pinned to their breasts.
He saw resentment, and he saw darkness, but he saw light too.
The mixture was mouth watering.
He wanted to taste the boys soul.
But more then that, he wanted a small taste of humanity.
He wanted to touch the boy,
Hold him
Kiss him
Maybe…
But that could never be
Because the boy was human
And he was a dweller of the darkness
The unclean
The soulless
A demon.