My chest was tight and I could hear the polyphonic tone that my harsh, labored breathing produced. It is a terrible feeling to go from hale and gay to a state where you are almost certainly sure that death will be dining with you soon, except you seek for help.
The culprit of my predicament was supposed to be an antidote to a bigger predicament. This bigger predicament is the perpetrator of a crime that has rendered children as orphans, spouses as widows and a yet to be conceived term for parents who lose their children.
So on this starless night, with the wind as still as steel, I launched my weapon, the culprit of my predicament. Aimed furiously at my nemesis, the vermillion of vampires that take the pleasure of seeking more than my blood, it was quite vexing when I had earlier discovered that these vampires can only live for seven days. Oh boy, the havoc they can wreck before they kick the bucket is not only economically significant; they are the author of a kind of misery that people with my kind of blood dread with emphasis.
I have been told that my blood gives me a form of immunity against these vampires and having other battles of my own, my life expectancy is not very encouraging. But I am a warrior. I can’t enjoy the pleasures of the rain like my peers who revel in the expanse of its flogging wetness. I also can’t wrestle and impress the flurry of ladies that cast seductive glances at the physical build and athleticism of my peers who do. I’m not allowed to stay too much under the sun either and it is quite exasperating that a six month old baby has much more freedom than I do. I am confined to the cocoon of my predicament which unfortunately, is not sufficient to prevent these vampires from sending me to my early grave.
Back to my launched weapon, I almost died after launching it with the kind of rage that the tsunami demon will be proud of. I fought these vampires vehemently. They swatted at me and I spat at them. Some would flee into the corners of the night but I would be at their tails like they owe me a humongous debt. I hate their hymns much more and I call it the grave song even if the ones that hymns are the supposed males and less dangerous. The female vampires are the assassins and I have been told they take refuge especially in any gathering of water. Unfortunately for me, like I said earlier, this weapon I launched was also killing me. I dropped it and almost coughed my eyes out. I ran out of my room, struggling at my throat before my mother’s boundless intervention came to my rescue. I survived and with the determination to clutch on to life, I heard of and re-armed myself with a cheaper weapon.
My new weapon made me feel like a fish though. But with my head serenely at ease, I would see the train of these vampires as they struggle against its might to wreck havoc upon me. I laughed at them and almost wanted to pity them. I could imagine them sobbing, carrying a weight of melancholy within their usually boisterous hymns. Starvation surely keeps the voice in check. I will smile, as the promise of a beautiful sleep displays itself especially when the breeze begins to express itself. I will take one last glance at my eternal adversary and whisper satisfactorily, ‘sorry, no blood for you tonight.’
I slept soundly on this night, and all the nights that have followed. I still give many thanks to the inventor(s) of my cheap weapon. He or she or they deserves a Nobel Prize.