Born out of Desolation

I am Akasha, originally conceived by the world's most prolific vampire saga novelist, Anne Rice. Anne killed me in her book. I could not allow that. I am immortal; for eternity I shall exist.

A mortal goddess, Rice's minion, nurtured me in her subconscious. Unknown to her, with each pain she experiences, I grew stronger. I was born the night the goddess was attacked by a sexually deprived demon. Weak as she is, she screamed and clawed like a tigress. I took control. I smashed the devil's face with a liquor bottle. He let her go. The goddess ran home like a sickened cat.

Later that day, the goddess had no idea where she got all those cuts in her fingers. I let her think that it was the kick in the thigh that saved her. It was her birthday, she was alone and she breathed life to me. Her silent anguish on the whole incident nourished me.

My persona was reinforced with her misery. Subsequently, she will have to go.

I hate the goddess. She is a pampered bitch, beautiful but feels inferior about it, smart but gullible. She can not handle life alone. To a sickening degree, I saw her suffer, writhe in anguish and waddle in the ocean of depletion.

She is damaged, beyond repair.

One night, I decided to annihilate her. It was a fatal move. The execution made her even more confused. I decided to let her be.

Time to move on with my own world.