LTROI-Novel

Eli and Oskar walked slowly across the courtyard, leaving footprints in the still-falling snow. They had made their final choice this afternoon, and waited until well after dark to set out from their little apartment. The Biology Building at Karlstad University was barely visible through the snow as they turned onto the well-lit walkway towards the main entrance. Oskar could see the lights in the window on the second floor, where Professor Dawson’s office was located.

I have always thought that there must be a way to write an epilogue to this story that is grounded (as much as possible) in reality, and still gives Oskar and Eli a happy ending. I have tried, without much success, defending such a position in various threads. I don’t think I convinced anyone that the artistic, fairytale quality of the story, so beautifully crafted by JAL and TA, wouldn’t be compromised by any finagling with such boring worn-out ideas as blood banks, voluntary donors, DNA replication, etc., but I just couldn’t shake the idea.

Esteban stepped out of the bathroom. He wondered if Eli had come back while he was in the shower; if not, there was still plenty of time before sunrise. He was heading to his room when the front door opened, and Eli walked in without saying a word, closing the door behind him. Esteban saw the dark stains on Eli's shirt and on the corner of his mouth. Who did he kill tonight? Eli was looking down, away from Esteban. A mother, a father? Another child?

Eli looked up. In the electric light, his eyes were no longer slits.

Seed of a dark sire, born of sinister motives without choice.

Youth and beauty mingled with affliction and macabre.

Abomination, scourge, monster, vampire.

Death's chore forced upon you, taker of souls precious.

Forsaken by mortal comforts, forever a nocturnal exile.

Strength uncontested yet bound by day intangible.

Time as an ally and enemy, loyal as both.

A curse within not yours to bear alone for it's will brings bereavement to many.

Traps set with deceit and baited for compassion are your works.

'No! No! No! Get off me!'

Eli, lying on his back, uselessly flailed his arms. Oskar, his chest lying sideways on Eli's ankles, tickled Eli's bare feet, while Eli laughed uncontrollably.

'Stop!'

Oskar chuckled.

'Stop! Please...'

Oskar did so.

'It's your fault Eli, for having such beautiful laughter. And for going barefoot.'

He lay down next to Eli. They cuddled in silence for a few minutes.

'Oskar...'

'Hmm?'

'Don't you sometimes feel… trapped?'

'What do you mean?'

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.

My spirit is weak and my mind weeps.
The hopes of this life have become daggers that have pierced my soul.
My wounds I fear are mortal.
My fractured heart has bled out, my veins have collapsed.
My essence is starved, craving the delicacy of life.
I feel the rot and decay of my soul within push toward the surface.
I cannot let this be. I shall retreat within myself until the sun sets on a better day.
Will I find solace in the depths of my mind or shall I be consumed by the rot within?
Can a soul be revived?

The higher powers of the reflective intellect
are more decidedly and more usefully tasked
by the unostentatious game of draughts than
by all the elaborate frivolity of chess.
E. A. Poe, The Murders in the Rue Morgue

Esteban placed the jug of lemonade he was carrying on his bedside table, next to which Oskar was lying awake.

'How are you feeling?'

'Tired, but OK I guess.'

And this word plunged me into fury and I bared
my teeth under my hood and I leaned towards his
fresh neck and he didn't flinch at all, and I said:
–Why aren't you afraid of me?
Marcel Schwob, The Children's Crusade

A middle-aged man sat at the dining room table, drinking coffee after having finished a simple breakfast. He had not slept well. It would soon be morning, and he could see through the windows that the sky was no longer completely pitch-black.

Post-ending fan fiction, mainly novel-based but should fit with the film plotwise. I've tried to be 'realistic,' which I found difficult in matters such as who (and more importantly, why) would willingly help Oskar and Eli. Hopefully I've managed to not spoonfeed the reader without being too confusing. Let me know what you think, and please point out anything that would be too outlandish in Sweden (which I've never set foot on) or language errors.

There is an alternative ending version, that would start right after 'The Vision.'