He looked over the city as night began to fall. He liked this time of the day

                                                -or rather night. He thought it was very beautiful. He stood there for a long

                                           time, and if anyone would have been able to see him on the roof, they would

                                      have thought he was a statue. Some birds even thought he was and one of them

                              did something it shouldn’t have done: it dropped a big, white spot on his shoulder. He

grabbed the bird before it could fly away, and he slowly brought the bird’s neck towards his mouth. When

he felt the soft feathers brushing his lips, he opened his mouth, showing two long, white fangs. Slowly, the

fangs sank into the warm body of the bird and blood started to flow out of its veins. He sucked up the

blood, and its warmth filled his entire body. When the bird had nothing more to give, he just dropped it,

and it fell off the building, onto the ground far below.

“Michael, did you really have to do that?” He turned around when he heard the feminine voice he knew so

well. The voice belonged to the woman of his dreams: a pale, black haired and dark eyed woman of his

age, tall and slender, with a soft voice that gives you the creeps.

“It was just a dove who needed to go very badly and it mistook you for a statue. Not that I can blame him,

you really did look like a statue.”

“Selivra, for how long have you been standing there? You’re dressed way too cold; this won’t be a very

warm night.”

She was wearing a beautiful dress which could’ve come straight out of the Dark Ages. She looked

absolutely stunning.

“Oh, I’ve been standing here for an hour or so. And for my clothes, I know you’ll want to keep me warm.”

“And I know you’re just playing with me. You’re trying to make me want you even more. But I’m not going

to play with you. I am strong enough to resist, and only when you say that you want me too, I will give in

to my lust.”

“Then you will wait very long.”

“How sweet,” said a dark, powerful voice from the roof besides theirs, “You really enjoy playing with men,

don’t you Selivra? Michael, you really should try to be the one who plays her, instead of letting her use you

as a toy. Well, that’s the way I did it.”

“Keep out of this, Grinthor; I don’t need you for this!”

“Oh, really?” said Selivra, giggling. “Then why don’t you have me yet?”

Michael felt the anger rising up inside of him. He tried to push it down, to control it, but the anger was too

strong. It had been there for centuries and now it could finally get out. Michael finally gave into it and let it

flow out of him. Then the anger turned to force, and started to build up. For a moment, Michael panicked

because it kept going, but he pointed his rage at Grinthor. Suddenly, with a loud bang, the force came out.    

A wave of power went over the entire planet, killing every living being in its path. A second wave and all

the things mankind had ever made were destroyed. Another wave, and everything that was left, was gone.

Only Michael remained. And one other person: Grinthor. The subject of his rage was still there.

“Now THAT is an oops-moment, I would say.”

Grinthor laughed and faster than anything else that had ever lived, he flew to Michael’s neck, broke it, and

started to drink his blood. When he was finished, he stood up and cleaned his mouth with his sleeve.

“Oops....”

Written by Nathalie van Basten Batenburg on 11-19-2005