When I came to the river I crossed over on a rusting bridge, rushing across through a strong wind that blew off the cold surface of the water. I did not seem to be followed but still I sprinted on unwilling to be caught in the open. The sun glinted off the waters and I ran into an orange halo of light in which blazed the brick buildings across the river. Once across I turned south running along the streets that paralleled the water. I felt empty and ran like a machine with no thought except to head towards the warmth and humidity of the south hoping that it could free my limbs from their perpetual chill. My humanity had been sundered. My mother and brother had been lost. My mortality had shuffled off with them. All I had left was this body; still mine but changed, and my mind; still mine but consumed with a hunger for the blood of my fellow man no longer. The river beside me wound through the land like a long dark snake tempting me into its cold everlasting waters but I had no desire to test the hell that had been promised me. Better to suffer the whips and scorns of the long years ahead of me trusting that memory would wash away the knowledge of my sins. I ran alone through the decrepit remains of man’s glory as the night fell blessedly dark and cruelly cold and I drank deeply of the air with my nostrils testing it for the scent of humans and their blood. I hoped against hope fearing that I would find its hot scent there.
