Memoirs of Angyl Yamakito

She was the last of her kind. Beautiful yet dangerous.
For her age she was metaphorically divine, sublime in her own light.
Beware things that are radiantfor they may be malicious.
Her eyes were like that of Red SuperNovas, they drew the attention right on sight.
Skin like monumental alabaster, smooth and seemingly glowing.
Her voice was that of the sweetest lullaby, gently and soothing.
To look upon her was quite a honor for rareity was her middle name.

Rumor had it that she was creature of the night.
To afraid to be seen amongst her neighbors in the bright of light.
"Witch" some said "Werewolf" others yelled.
She would simply nod in response and smile.
For if they truly wanted to see the truth, would truly make them pale.
For the names they gave her were off naught by mere mile.

Upon one misty night, a gentleman caught glimpse of her upon her midnight stroll. Staring at the Moon as if in pure worship, the bells from the church steeple began to toll. Before she turned to return to her Chateau, the moonlight glittered in her eyes showing something inhumanly. Smiling as she knew she was being watched her fangs flashed,  he stood there stupidly.

The question still remains what is Lady Angyl Yamakito?

To be continued........