In the silence that only breathes around three in the morning, I stand before the bathroom mirror, feeling with tickling fingers the scar above my heart where the silver bullet had ended my nightmare. I was a rare anomaly, a man who had died and seen what lay beyond. I had no words to describe it: everything was a muddle there, all distinctions fading away, but then a voice, light!
I don’t understand how I’m alive; the gypsy said something about true love and sacrifice.
I snarl at my reflection, exposing my teeth to make sure they are still human.
Tale Told 