Anastasia
Moscow lay under a cloudy, blood-red sky. In the distance, the winter sun lanced down its rays. Smokes hung in the air over the wide borders of the capital.
The monitor screens transmitted images of the battlefields. Some were still active in fighting and shooting while others already died down with either counterpart retreated. Images flashed from screens to screens. I saw a crow standing on a corpse's chin, pecking hungrily at its eyes. A riderless horse stampeded by, driven mad by the smell of the dead and gas. Broken tanks and vehicles overturned. Torn flags snapped in the breeze.
I tried to locate where a certain group of hunters was. Groaning with impatience, I turned to the operators.<
The sound of planes crashing to the ground and bombs going off in the distance filled the city. Buildings, chapels, and monuments were blown up, crumbling into piles of bricks and cinders. There were war tanks and cars engulfed in flames.We had moved to our underground headquarter. I stood observing the masked soldiers crawling through the streets of Kremlin. The enemy had advanced past the gates into the capital at last."Where are the other soldiers?" I asked one of my generals."They're all dead, Your Highness. The remaining troops are also wounded. The army we have left is now defending our headquarter and the main bases."I realized that we were failing in the battle. They outnumbered us by the thousands. Those rotten undead-Naz
I sat holding Valerina against my chest. Her face, white as the snow that had frozen my heart, no longer showed any sign of life. The sounds of exploding bombs reverberated all over the city, but all I felt was the coldness that seeped through every pore of my body. The coldness that would last longer than any winter in the world."Valerina," I whispered her name over and over as if it would wake her up and bring her back from this endless sleep.I knew she wouldn't hear it anymore. The hollowness in my chest spread like a black hole. The words were lost forever. We stayed in the same bed, but it felt as if we were a world apart.Another bomb struck the ground, shaking the building. Dust fell from the ceiling like snowflakes then the light went out. I tightened my hold around the lifel
The nature of sorrow often fades over time, but once in a while it remains lodged below the surface of things, a stubborn thorn under a fingertip, making itself felt every time you brush against it.The years galloped past, flowing onward like the waters of a river, disappearing never to return, on this day, it had been three or maybe five years. I did not keep track of time anymore. But the beauty of the bright spring sunshine, rejoiced with blossoms and the song of birds, brought nostalgia to my heart.I brushed another paint stroke against the canvas. Purple was my favorite color, but now I had grown to love red. Red was vibrant and strong. Red was the color of blood and life.In the garden under the spring sun, the portrait was taking shape, a beautiful shape of a woman I loved and
AnastasiaIn Greek, "nostalgia" literally means "the pain from an old wound". It's a twinge in your heart, far more powerful than memory alone. It is a time machine. It goes backward and forward. It takes us to a place we ache to go again.One of the strangest things about living is that there is only the now, but we all seem to be wrapped up in the past and wandering aimlessly in the present, yet always wondering about the future.I brushed another light stroke of wet paint over the white canvas. My hand started trembling again as it always did when I thought of her. Every time I tried to finish the portrait, emotions would come rushing throug
I left the exciting and lustful life in Rio De Janeiro and came to Paris with a fancy invitation from someone who claimed to be a nephew of King Louis XIII of France.At first, I did not plan to be there as I had ignored all sorts of interactions with the royal class and other aristocrats, but I remembered how the very name of Paris had brought a rush of excitement to me in the past. And considering that there were no other places I could let my uneventful stretch of existence loose anyway. I decided to make France my next sojourn.If things got boring there, I could just return to America and find somewhere to spend a tiny portion of my eternity there or go around those ghost cities like a lost soul I always was and party with those fine beauties like I always had.I stood on my bedro
The misty air around the ballroom had thickened with more scent of alcohol and the smell of fresh blood. The golden light had dimmed down, making the atmosphere even more appealing.I watched the vampires enjoy their feast and music, laughing and talking nonsense to one another.Before I knew it, Jean and Estella had become each other's company. Each had a human slave by their sides, ready to serve their needs. I was too preoccupied with my own lust to even care.The girl sitting on my lap began to move, gently rubbing her heated private against me. She bravely took my face in her hands."I want you to have more of me."The punctured skin on her neck had stopped bleeding and healed.
"What a surprise to see you here," Victor said, putting his fist over his heart and bowed. There were about thirty black-coated soldiers standing behind him. Jean's bodyguards approached them, but they were signaled away by the host."Likewise," I said."My apologies for showing up unannounced, Grand Duchess," he said again.Lyra was about to move away, but I wrapped my arms around her waist to keep her with me."You stay here," I whispered. Lyra silently complied. She then rested her head on my shoulder. Her long bare legs still straddled over my lap. I wanted to make Victor feel uncomfortable talking to me like this. Besides I didn't mind letting Lyra curl up in my arms since her warmth comforted me.
We boarded my private jet, getting ready to fly back to Moscow before dawn. It was a long boring flight. Over the years, I had found ways to deal with boredom, but as of now, they didn't seem appealing anymore.Fortunately, Jean-Phillip had given me a few presents to amuse myself with during the trip-two human girls and a human boy. Among them was Lyra, the little beauty I seemed to grow fond of ever since the lustful night in Versaille. The French royal had insisted on seeing me off, but I refused with a promise that we would meet again in the near future. The nephew of King Louis was a fun company after all.Victor didn't bother me with any boring details of the Council's matters though he could have done so. For now, he just left me alone. I knew it wouldn't be long until I was bombarded with responsibilities. This gave me more reaso