Warrning -- This is my own story , i do not intend to infringe on anyones copy right . NOTE -- this is a short piece i have had banging around in my head for the last few months , it has nothing to do with any of my other specs , and is a stand alone . WARNING -- This is set just after MtD , and it is disturbing . --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Lestat He stood in the snow looking intensely at the ground . Could he be really gone , Armand oh dear Armand what have i done to you . Slowly a single red tear left the corner of his eye and rolled down his cheak , leaving a trail red as a snail leaves a trail of silver , often the only sign the it ever existed . Just as now the trail of red was the only proof to the feelings and termoils inside of him. Slowly , regretfully he turned away and started to walk down the street , not seeing where he was going , intent on his thoughts and feeling . At about midnight he found himself outside a church , no not a church , the church . After hours of walking around he had returned to where he had started from . The church where Dora preached her story , the church where it lay , The church where Armand............. . Best not to think about that , best to think of other things, Of love of the past , but that was not easy out here in the bitter snow. He looked up at the spiral , and to the cross on the top . Below that was the stained glass windows depicting the stories of the saints . Whilest watching the stories unfold before him a bitter cold blast of the winter's night air blew through him . Though it was true he did not normaly feel the cold , he had not fed since that morning , oh that terrible morning , the morning when his world was ripped apart . With a curse at the weather , he headed into the church . His footsteps echoed though the now silent church , he walked about a third of the way down when he turned into a pew , and sat down . Here in the piece and quiet one always finds in a church , he sat and thought of his life , wondering what it would have been like without Armand , his dear Armand . How would he have survived the time after Claudia tried to kill him . Or those first new years as a fledging with no-one to guide him but Armand . Beneath him Lestat cold feel the cold hard wood , press against him . The small crack , a deformity in the wood , it wood leave its mark on him , but that would fade soon after he left , The memory of Armand would never fade , nor would the pain of loss . Lestat's sensitive hands felt the wood from the back of the pew in front of him , the strokes that the carpenter had left behind when he had varnished it. Oh something as elegant as this hand crafted pew , even it had its flaws , for nothing in this sad world was ever perfect . Even that vail upfront in its glass case was not perfect , oh it looked perfect to the eye , but nothing perfect would cause the death of one so loving as Armand , sweet Armand . Armand could not even bring himself to kill the criminals outright , like he himself did . No , Armand could only drink from those who answerd his call for death . And death he gave , that gentleman Death, oh to die in his arms was one of pure bliss . Lestat never feed in giving pleasure to his victims only the death they deserved . Lestat would carry on giving death to those who should die . But them that wish death will never be released by the the kiss of Gentleman Death again. On this sad thought , Lestat stood , and headed forward to the shrine . Standing before the Vail , Lestat shook his head , and onto the ground fell a single red tear . He slowly turned and walked down the aile to the snow outside . Time for mourning was over , Now is the time for the Vampire Lestat to return . Death had come to Armand through him , now was the time to bring life to the rest of his family . To show though his life why a Vampire exists , to let them know that life need never mean death . A begger on the street looked up and saw a man come out of the church , he had that look on his face , that same look all who had seen the Vail had . It was a look of determantion and one of hope . Hope for life and hope for the future . Prehaps one day he too would look upon the Vail and understand it all . But till then , he would sit here on the ground taking arms from those that passed. He looked up from his thoughts , taking one last look at the man as he rose into the sky .................. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I hope you enjoyed this , please let me know what you think of it Patrick G The Myst