Ray Sostre: http://theafterdarkworld.blogspot.com
Gemma Parkes: http://gemmaparkes.blogspot.com/
October 31, 1985
Gabriel lurked outside after Damien fell into a deep sleep, a gust of wind blowing the shutters open. He attempted to withhold his strong desires and thirst. He could not hold back, climbing quietly through the window. He sat beside Damien, his nude body spread out on the bed without covers. He wanted him that moment more than ever. He inspected the man he’d rejected years before. He was older but retained the flavor that attracted him when they first met, a child-like innocence, asking questions honestly and blurting out his observations with no regret. He continued admiring him, a strong hunger building inside, a fire that scorched his heart like never before. Leaning over his head, his hand reaching for Damien’s limp dick, he opened his mouth, gently biting him on the neck. Splurging on his human blood, his hand ceased massaging his now rock hard erection. Gabriel released his neck. I don’t want to kill him. He pressed the wound with his lips until it barely trickled. I want to suck your cock, but I’m afraid I might wake you. Could I trust you after the past several years, suffering from other men’s rejections? And there’s still David. After kissing the wound on Damien’s neck, he vanished through the window, hoping his friend would meet him in the cemetery later the next night to consummate their mutual attraction.
Damien anxiously departed the house, leaving the door unlocked. The heavy rain swept over him, the blustery winds trying to hold him back as he trudged up the street. All was dark with no humans or animals in sight. Even the birds sought refuge in silence from the typhoon. Walking up the lane, slowly, the trees bending, almost ready to come crashing down, he crossed to the side street which led to the entrance of Lone Oak Cemetery. Fortunately, finding the pedestrian gate unlocked, he entered without having to scale the fence.
He crept past the reception offices, the first mausoleum, and headstones, bordering the narrow asphalt roadway. He listened to the wailing chants from the graves. He knew exactly where to go; the oldest, darkest deserted burial grounds hidden in the depths of aging tombstones next to Sulfur Creek, where the Eucalyptus trees reeked with the scent of death. Trying to pick up his pace, he heard the cries of the departed, screeching out, “Help! Help!”
When he reached the paved circle where the oldest graves sat around the old bubbling fountain, the wind and rain ceased briefly, and the voices silenced. Beneath an aging oak tree and saturated lawn, he sat on a marble bench. Focusing on the names inscribed on the tombstones and trying to decipher the engravings, he read, “Caesar and Ramana Tivoli rest here. May you find peace from the hell you brought.” As Damien continued to read, he discovered they both died on October 31, 1852.
A streak of lightning flashed nearby, followed by a booming clap of thunder, the wind and rain diminishing. Instantly, he remembered Gabriel’s last name. Yes, you are Gabriel Tivoli. Is this your family plot?