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The silence is the only thing that can be heard. It’s deafening, closing in on you, doesn’t let you escape.Right, love?


1. Sundown

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Gabriela Mistral

Siento mi corazón en la dulzura
fundirse como ceras:
son un óleo tardo
y no un vino mis venas,
y siento que mi vida se va huyendo,
callada y dulce como la gacela.


The silence is the only thing that can be heard. It’s deafening, closing in on you, doesn’t let you escape.

Right, love?

I watch you as you stare at the floor. Your look is terrified, horror twisting your face until it breaks that mask everyone wears, revealing the whimpering child underneath. You look as if you do not yet comprehend what is happening to you.

I don’t blame you. Few could.

The body is an obstacle separating us. Nevertheless, it’s an obstacle easy to overcome. I shake my head slowly; this kill was an error. A simple miscalculation. I mourn the wasted blood that spreads in a pool of gore underneath the broken body. I’m not breathing, which is how I can watch calmly as the pool transforms into a river, trickling toward the stairs. There, it metamorphoses into a dark cascade. The small drops, glistening rubies, fall in delicate symphony, painting the stairs a vivid red.

Despite my care in keeping from breathing, I cannot control the Thirst that howls inside me as the first drop falls. But my distress is nothing compared to yours. Your eyes follow the path of this river until the first drop, as well. Then, you raise your gaze, searching for the danger, knowing its there, knowing it can see you—but you can’t see it.

Your body grows smaller until it almost disappears. You have stopped breathing. You have stopped moving. Perhaps you think you can escape the predator if it cannot see or hear you. But this predator is unlike others. This predator sees what others do not, hear what others miss. This predator can smell, can taste. Your stark palidity can be seen like a beacon. Your heartbeat can be heard pulsing a heady tone of dread. I can smell your fear on the air, soft as silk but electrifying. I can taste your horror, a chocolate that melts in your mouth, as delicious as it is sinful.

I feel a smile cross my mouth at this thought. Don’t worry, love, I’m patient. The wait simply whets my appetite. So tremble, whimper, pray to your God for help. The wait will soon end for us both…

Minutes pass, slow as hours. Suddenly, your breathing is clearly audible. You breathe as if you were drowning, every gasp harsh and desperate. Terror begins to paralyze your lungs.

My smile grows wider.

You watch as I untangle myself from the shadows. Your face changes from terror to wonder. You collapse onto your knees before me, hardly believing me real. I see myself reflected in your eyes. A graceful figure clothed in a crimson gown a shade darker than the blood running through your veins. Skin pale as snow and just as cold, paler still when contrasted with the liquid red of my gown and the ink-black curls cascading down my back. The high cheekbones and perfectly delineated mouth. And of course, the vivid red eyes of my kind.

A goddess in mortal form, Aro once called me.

Your mouth opens, attempting to work against the haze you’ve fallen into by looking into my eyes. But I can’t have you doing that. A delicate hand reaches out to cup your face and your sigh I both hear and feel. I lean closer, my eyes staring deeply into yours. My breath ghosts over your lips which part slightly. My lips gently trace the contours of yours and you shudder against me. Holding you softly, I trace kisses across your cheek and down your neck, one hand climbing to your dark hair, the other mapping every line and curve of your chest.

A heavy moan escapes you as does that hot and decadent wine that radiates from your heart.

Translation of Atardecer:

I feel my heart in the sweetness
extinguish like waxes:
they’re a slow oil
and not a wine my veins,
and I feel that my life is fleeing
hushed and sweet as a gazelle.