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The Thief
The old lady was on the ground with a blood-soaked head.
It was as if she was watering the ground with her blood and yearning for flowers to bloom out of her pain. Rufus and Cordelia stood beside her with the boots of the female vampire pressed down her back. She was cursing the old lady while she continued to stomp on her, each force sending the old lady to cripple in pain. Celeste rushed forward as she tried to push Cordelia far from her grandmother. The vampire stumbled backward as Desmond ushered down to comfort her grandmother that cried in pain. Rufus lifted Celeste by the throat as he waved her in the air. The child clawed at his hand while screams were unable to escape her throat.
“Let her go,” I yelled at Rufus but he just gave off an amused smirk and tightened his grip. Ezekiel and Sophie stood beside me as we were all nothing compared to these vampires.
“I said let her go,” I screamed at him to which Ezekiel only grabbed my arm as if trying to warn
weeping prophetHey, it has been a while. I'm really sorry if I haven't been regularly uploading chapters but there are a lot of things going on for the past weeks. I can now focus on writing and uploading again. I deeply apologize. Thank you so much for being patient with me and for reading my book. I hope you continue to buy my chapters. I owe it all to you. I hope we could connect soon and be able to talk with you. I hope you would give a review and rate my book as well as some suggestions. I would love to hear from all of you. I hope you all have a great day and stay safe at this current state of the world. I love you. - the weeping prophet ❤️
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The cries of Ezekiel echoed along with the howls of the wolves in the far distance. The moon was bright enough to illuminate his torment. The light of the wood fire cast a red hue all over his face and chest, it was as if he had an open wound. It could have been the way he was feeling inside as if he was bleeding from an emotional wound that no one else sees. I don’t know how it feels like to be in his position; for love to turn into hate. A collision of polar emotions in seeing someone you love being in such pain that you could only hate them. I don’t know how it feels like to be in his shoe, to experience a romantic love so strong that it breaks you. But I know how it feels like to hate yourself, to blame yourself to the extent that you project it to someone else. I am mad at these blood drinkers and I am mad at everything that ever happened. It was as if I am only waiting for perfect triggers to expel the hatred I have inside of me. But it all boils down to my hate toward
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