The first strike. A scary bedtime story

The fifteenth of January two thousand eighteen year
is the one day of the short meeting with the heartless death.
The worst of all it was not accidental. This winter date
is my the second birthday, and it left the clear trace.

The only unforgettable chill kiss could be the last one.
It socked the life out of the paralyzed by fear corps.
The chill was filling every capillary. The mute crump
into unconsciousness was poignantly long.

And only Heavens know, what forced "the vamp" to go off the prey
as since next consequences shew the happened trouble source.
That person could not hide deep-blue impressions on the head,
which were the change from a black force for the undone black work.

Those marks and some odd words had pointed out the ruined deal.
There couldn't be a mistake. Even the chosen early date
for the unclean black work wasn't so casual as it really seemed.
That day Someone saved life. That force didn't kill, giving new strengths.

                by Thea Ariss      
                22.10.2026

P.S.: That strike helped to obtain some skill...
      The birthday reminded of this story.