Fan Fiction

Eli . . .

Eelii . . .

Footsteps on the cold stone of the darkened hallway

Coming for me, coming in the whistling dark

Run and hide, hide where He won't find me My feet go pitter patter

The flames flutter in their iron flickering shadows they cast

Try one door then the next but they're all locked, pull and pull but they won't open

Growing louder getting closer I'm so afraid

(St. Michael the archangel defend us in battle . . .)

His eyes flashed. “How dare you. That was supposed to be my choice. And I told you—remember? You asked me, and I said no—I didn’t want to be like you. With you, yes. But not the other.” He looked away from her, then rolled over to face the opposite wall. “Oh, I’m so angry right now. I trusted you, Eli! How could you?”

“I’m sorry. I said I’m sorry!”

I, Oskar, declare unto all who would listen what the night brings to me.

The grace of the night blesses me with my Eli and allows me:

To know the joy of darkness full and the dread of morning light.

To know the love of one centuries old yet forever young.

To feel her breath upon me and the soothing rhythm of her heartbeat when I
awake during our daytime slumber.

To see her beauty outlined in the darkness by the gentle light of the moon.

To see the silhouette of my guardian angel against the stars as she takes flight.