Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-24996913-20140920041748

I never cared for air conditioning. It's unnecessary when the cool air from outside on a chilly night could easily remedy any heat induced discomfort. Everyone is so degenerate nowadays. They don't remember their beginning, what made them powerful and ahead of all others on the foodchain... Once upon a time, a simple fire at the base of a cave was enough to quench their ancestor's basic comfort necessities. Why is everything so convenient, allowing basic survival tactics to alleviate from their DNA, pushing them further down the food-chain when and if they shall part from their precious technology?

Because of laziness within society, I am forced in an uncomfortable environment. I, more often than not, stay up late, shivering because my family decided to turn that damned air conditioner on. Every rustle I hear from the ventilation, every breeze I feel upon my face as it glides through the countless metal tunnels of the house, angers me. I don't know whether to bail from the situation or power through my own discomfort, continuing to be the hero within the shadows. But every night, every God damned night, they turn the air on, causing me to rethink my decision to protect them.

I mean, don't they know I live here?

How rude of them to impose such conditions on me. After all I've done for each and every one of them. I watch over these people I consider family, making sure they are safe from any shadowy figures lurking within the darkened house. I am their protector, and they don't even appreciate me.

With every passing night, as I watch them toss and turn in their comfortable beds, clinging onto the blankets they're wrapped securely within, I grow envious. I don't wish to be this way, but it's so damned cold. Even when I fight off the others, betraying my bloodline as they attempt to harm my so called family, I cannot shake the unwavering cold from my body.

I love these people, I really do, but I cannot stay if they do not turn the air conditioner off. My body was created to withstand heat... not cold. Even if they were to compromise with me, turning it up a mere degree or three, I would be satisfied. But, they are unwilling.

It's not like I can ask them to turn it down.

My... people are forbidden to touch things in this realm. We only feast on the dreams and induce nightmares for an added treat, quenching our appetites for the night.

I don't want to be selfish, but I starve myself century after century, battling my own kind to ensure my family's safety, and they don't even care that my rib cage protrudes from my gaunt torso. They don't get to see my hollow cheekbones, concave and sunken from years of starvation. They only see sweet dreams, as I lick my imaginary lips, visualizing how fulfilling it would be to get just a taste of their dreams.

Unfortunately, my sacrifice goes unnoticed.

So this leads me to believe my work here has depleted. Maybe I should go... maybe I should retire from the vents and lurk within the shadows as my family has done for millenniums. Maybe I should become the predator I was raised to be. I mean... they are at the bottom of the food-chain that matters. 