To You, My Immortal Heart

By LotsChrono

It started with the innocence of a child. And summer. The blazing heat of summer, like that of the Sahara desert.

The chirping of cicadas was especially prudent that day. Buzzing with the unwillingness to let go of the new life the weather gave to them. They chirped as if the whole world was forced to listen and, well, she supposed she was.

Squinting through sunlight behind the counter of the Convenience Store she worked, as sweat fell down from her forehead, her thought perused which show she would watch tonight, and which snack or snacks it should go with. Chocolate and crackers with a rerun of ‘Friends’? So tame, but it needn’t matter, anything was nothing to her.

“Are you a vampire, miss!?”

The small child stared at her with wide, hazel eyes. His brunette hair fluttered as he moved side to side, looking up to the counter.

She leaned over, bright red lips in a thin smile, crimson eyes etched on pale-white skin, and long black-hair fluttering down. Truly, she did appear somewhat inhuman.

'What a cute kid,' She thought.

"Oh don't mind him.”

A voice caught her off, and she looked up to the sight of a middle-aged woman with a cigarette between her lips. A woman with narrow eyes, and even narrower cheek bones, her eyes seemed perpetually ghastly, like dim lights, and her bony body left much to be desired.

The woman released a breath of smoke, "He's been reading a lot of those awful things lately. Not allowed in my home but, hell, his teacher still spoils him.”

“I—I see.”

She didn’t know how to reply to that statement of hers and gave only what she could, an awkward smile that didn’t diminish her beauty in the least. The lady tched, releasing smoke from her lips, pulling out the cigarette, and flinging its ashes down. She folded her arms and tapped her feet, staring at her with eyes that were less delightful than before.

“I would like a pack, and a bag of candy or whatever you have for him,” She said, pointing to the little boy.

She did as she was told, eyes fluttering from time to time to the boy who stood by his mother’s legs, looking up to her with a stare of wonder. She smiled, handing his mother her pack and him a bag of mixed candies.

“On the house,” She said, and it was a lie as she paid from her own pocket. Either way, money meant little to her.

The boy gleamed in joy, looking up at a mother who merely nodded at her, then at his bag filled with chocolate and bubblegum and lollipops. He bowed.

“Thank you, Miss vampire!”

‘What an interesting little one.’

When he lifted his head, his face strained and he released a cough, her eyes faltered as she watched him suck in a breath, clutching his bag and spilling some of its contents.

“. . .what’s wrong?”

“I wouldn’t know,” The woman took his hand and sighed as he calmed down, “He’s been like that for awhile these days, coughing on and off and off and on again. I would get it checked out but. . .we can’t afford that.”

She spoke and flung her cigarette. Yet as soon as she did so, she herself coughed and weezed, and the boy looked to his mother with painful eyes.

“I see. . .see you again.”

And she did.

It wasn’t more than a week before he came into the store, alone. At a glance, she recognized him more dirtied than before. His clothing wasn’t in the best shape, and it was the same as the last time.

"Miss vampire! Mamma told me to buy some cigarettes!"

She frowned.

“She told you that?”

He nodded, twice.

“Sorry, but I can’t sell to a child.”

His expression turned to shock and he approached her with much more uncertainty.

“B-but-.”

“No means no.”

Her voice was more stern than soft and the boy retreated with even more shock. Her eyes turned to him and she wondered why something so inconsequential affected him. Before she could even reach out to him, his figure had already spun around and ran.

“Strange. . .” She mouthed.

It was another hour when the mother came alone.

She seemed to dress as best as she could, but even her best was only a ripped and tattered pair of jeans, and a shirt of brown white. She came in, the last of her cigarette between her lips, and stood before the counter with a sudden sigh.

“That child. . .” The woman wanted to begin, then stopped, “Well, miss Vampire-.”

The woman was forced to stop again and she couldn’t help but chuckle a bit. The woman, blushed, “Ugh, its, that child has gotten to me.”

She sighed and took the item from her lips.

“Is he hard to handle?”

“No. . .ever since his father died, and I took ownership of him. . .he’s been well behaved.”

“It must be tough on you.”

“It’s tough on both of us. . .he tries his best to keep it in and, as much as I don’t want to admit it, his teacher became an older brother to him. Sometimes they feel even closer than me and him.”

She nodded, recognizing why the lady’s mouth had been fowl when she first spoke about the boy’s teacher.

“Still. . .isn’t what’s best for him, what’s most important?”

The woman took a drag of her cigarette and released the smoke, to which she frowned, “I can’t deny that.”

“Y’know, I sent him to get some cigarettes, yet he came back crying that he hadn’t been able to achieve it, as if I would throw him away because of it,” The woman chuckled, darkly, her sunken eyes looked back up, “I’ll take a pack.”

“You really shouldn’t smoke, miss.”

“. . .it’s the only thing that keeps me calm after my husband died.”

“Were you not divorced?”

Had she not spoken about acquiring ownership of the boy?

“We were, but I still loved him. . .I shouldn’t have-” She stopped herself, “Regret is a sad thing, Miss Vampire, you’ll do best to be careful. Love is a hard thing to let go of.”

The woman left with her pack and she was left behind the counter with that thought. She shook her head, eyes clear as day as she gave a light smile.

“I know, miss.”

It was a different day when the boy walked into the shop in a stagger. He looked familiar, yet she took a moment to recognize him as he appeared much more like his mother than himself. She tilted her head.

“. . .what’s wrong?”

“Mommy’s coughing too much. . .I have to get cough drops.”

He looked up at her with unwavering eyes as she handed him the item.

“Miss Vampire, how do you become a vampire?” He asked.

“Hmm?”

She looked at him inquisitional wondering why he brought such a thing up again.

“Listen. . .” She said.

“Even if you could become one, it wouldn’t be fun.”

Her eyes looked forlorn. She stared at nothing in particular as her gaze fixated onto the boy. It was as if she were piercing through him, looking at his life. And she took her eyes away because life was not something pretty.

“It would not be fun,” She shook her head, “There would be suffering.”

“Those you love will fall down and die. Food becomes tasteless. Sights become meaningless. Friendships and relationships cease to exist. The earth revolves and you remain stagnant. A suffering much worse than what a single life should bear.”

She sighed, “It would not be fun.”

So she refused to turn him. She refused to bring hell upon his life. And she wished he lived a life much simpler. . .much more mortal. . .a life which had meaning.

“Oh.”

The boy mouthed.

She watched as he looked down onto the ground, tears in his eyes.

Had she made him cry? She tried to reach out a hand to him.

“I wish. . .I-I wish father had been a vampire.”

He looked up to her and she stopped her hand, mouth agape at his stare. His face covered in splashes of tears and he spoke between large sobs and hiccups.

“I wish mother would be a vampire.”

With those words, he ran off.

A day later, a male walked into the store. Dressed in a messy suit of brown, with hair of the same color, and sunburn eyes, he rushed into the store with a loose tie and came upon her with a quick voice.

“Are you-are you Miss vampire?”

“I am, I suppose, what do you need?”

“Do you know where he lives?” He spoke as if she would know who ‘he’ was.

There were few people who called her ‘Miss Vampire’ so she figured he meant the boy.

“I do not. . .did something happen?”

He paced around for a bit, “He told me he was no longer coming to school as he had to take care of his sick mother.”

“Dammit,” He cursed, “I’ll go find him.”

And with those words, he ran out faster than she could stop him. A frown came over her and she wondered what could have occurred to the woman.

Days went by before a familiar, much more sunken, woman entered the shop in ghastly steps. It was as if she were a twig, shaking to even reach the counter, and appearing even more thinner than before.

“I’ll have a pack.”

She gave her the item and watched as she lit a cigarette and placed it between her lips.

“You know, miss, you really shouldn’t smoke.”

“Let me smoke, please.”

The woman answered her question, yet she did not go to sleep, and she watched as tears came upon her eyes with the fog of the smoke.

“. . .are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you really alright?”

“I’m fine.”

“. . .where is he?”

There was a pause.

"Oh. . ." The woman said, removing the cigarette from her lips as smoke filtered out, and turning away from the counter with a drooping shoulder.

It was as if her aura had been sucked out and the cigarette felt much heavier between her fingers. Her hand shook as her hollow voice came.

“He died.”

She spoke those words, placing the end of the bud back on her lip, sucking in a breath with the glow of the Fire.

"Di. . .died?"

"Mhmm," The woman nodded, turning around with wet eyes, "His lungs gave out. The autopsy said he had asthma, and. . .the environment was not good for him.”

She looked at the woman. Taking in her creases and her face, the voice that cracked, and the cough. She looked at the woman and her eyes remembered the boy. 

'. . .what's this?'

She stared at her hands that had become stained wet.

'Tears?'

It had been so long since she last cried, she had almost forgotten what it was. The irritation in her heart, the pain, her words choked in her throat as her tears fell down. It had been such a long time that the sensations felt foreign to her. She had cried so much at each loss in the past ad, now, when eating and watching shows was her connection with humanity, this was a first.

The woman smiled as they stared at each other and she watched as her dried lips opened and the cigarette was sucked till its bitter end.

“You really shouldn’t smoke, miss.”

The woman coughed, and weezed, yet still watched as the flames burned to the tip of her fingers.

“Let me. I want to smoke till my death.”

“I want to suffer the pain I’ve caused them. . .”

“My husband. . .”

“. . .my son.”

The cigarette became ash and she took out another, lighting one more regret.