Two for tragedy. Volume 1 - стр. 5

When I arrived at the bridge, I parked my car in the small car park and headed for the high iron railing.

Whatever superstitious people might say, the Nusle Bridge was a work of art, filled with a special atmosphere of moral freedom and reflection on the mortality of life. Admiring the heavy clouds flying above me, the colour of a stormy sea, with thin veins of grey threads cutting through them, I thought a great deal. There were a few people on the bridge besides me, but they were just curious tourists, seduced by the bridge's terrible beauty. Banal: they would take pictures as a souvenir and soon leave, unable to withstand the aura of hundreds of suicides.

And so it happened, but my mind was visited by an unpleasant reminder of the beginning of the mid-term autumn exams, for which I had no point in preparing. I knew I would pass all the exams, after all, I had covered this material many times before. As I mentioned above, I have had the honour of studying at all American, Canadian and European universities, including Prague University, where I am studying again. I have studied here three times, in different eras, under different names, naturally without drawing undue attention to my identity.

Darkness descended on Prague. The city was lit up with thousands of multi-coloured lights and filled with the hum of evening fun. People got their long-awaited rest. What did that bode for me? I had only eaten two days ago, so I wasn't hungry, but Markus was out hunting tonight. Let him have his fun, perhaps even paired with the lady of his heart.

I leaned against the railing, closed my eyes, and stayed that way until I caught something unusual in the air that made me forget my thoughts and look in the direction the wind had brought me: a girl standing about fifty metres away. I couldn't have been mistaken, because a vampire's gaze was much more distinct than a human's. And despite the thickening darkness, I stared openly at the stranger.

The scent of her blood intoxicated me. This bouquet, never before heard by me, struck me with its beauty. The scent of fresh young human blood, filled with a touch of sea breeze and tart sweetness. To savour it, I breathed often and deeply, and my mind was involuntarily filled with strange questions. Who is this girl? What is she doing here? How had I not noticed her appearance on the bridge?

My interest in the stranger grew with every second, and I involuntarily just stared at her. Suddenly, as if sensing my frank gaze, the girl turned to me for a few seconds. But half a second was enough for me to reproduce her portrait in my mind. The first thing that caught my eye was her hair-dark, thick, falling in a waterfall down to her waist. The stranger's face was unusual, intriguing. The soft pale lips gave a slightly sharp contrast to her bright dark brown eyes. Her figure was slender, with no outlines of unhealthy thinness or starvation. The girl seemed mysterious and even beautiful to me. Her beauty was soft and expressive, like an autumn day that had not had time to cool down from the sun's rays, but already with the sun gone, sprinkling the sky with its farewell light.

For a moment our gazes crossed like swords. Suddenly the stranger took a quick step away from the bridge, as if fleeing from my unwilling, insistent attention. But I, as if mesmerised, looked after her, I just couldn't let her go. Let go of that magic.