…and the birth of a vampire [story part 38]

October 13, 2012 § 15 Comments

Regina was pacing back and forth in front of the three remaining and by now I was already pretty near, almost next to her, but keeping a rather safe distance. I didn’t know what she would do next. Nobody ever really knew that, ever.

Then she stopped dead.

Viktoria came out from the inside of one of the buildings, where one of them pointed that Gunnar would be. Regina was looking intensely at her and I kept looking backward and forward between them because I couldn’t really see anything, but Regina’s look was becoming more and more alarming. She saw it, and whatever it was, I didn’t like it.

Viktoria made another few steps and she was in front of us.

I was already really close to a panick attack, and what came next didn’t actually help.

Viktoria was holding a head in her arms, a head that I quickly identified as being Gunnar. She placed it right in Regina’s lap which by now was kneeling, overcome completely by what she was seeing. You would imagine she had more strength than this, but you would be wrong, because as I learned over the years, and was prone to learning even more, the hard way, there was nothing more important for Regina than those that she held close, which weren’t many, a thing that only made it an even stronger emotion.

She took Gunnar’s head with both her hands and just stared at it like you stare at a newly found book in a library. I was frozen. I didn’t know what to do, what to think, I didn’t even have the power to panick or vomit or faint. I was just… there. I don’t think I took another breath for twenty seconds or so.

I was however, expecting the mother of all rage episodes in the history of this planet to rain down on us all, human, vampire or anything else, in that yard. I braced myself.

Viktoria was pretty much in the same situation as I was, you could tell from her face. I specifically remember that I checked for her expression and reaction, in order to adapt it, or to seek confirmation that I’m reacting like I should, in order to copy it, to be them, to seek… acceptance? I was getting awfully close to a bridge that only went one way.

What came instead, was not rage, but one hundred percent pure happiness and sadness in the same time. It’s really hard to describe such a state, I never had one, but I’ll try. It’s like you see the most happy person in the world, laughing and smiling, really smiling with every inch of her body, but in the same time, you see that person crying and just generally reading the saddest expression you’ve ever seen on their face. It’s something that only those really few “special” people who need to be locked away immediately can pull off. You really need pure insanity to combine those too, and a hell lot more of pure rationality and logic to hold them back in everyday life. This was just… another face of what Regina was. Hundreds of years of regrets, emotions, happy moments, sad moments, desperate and euphoric moments in the same time. The human mind isn’t equipped for such a long time of mixing of memories, especially a mind that hardly ever degrades, a mind that usually remembers almost everything, from every point of view, that includes emotion. A memory is nothing but a photograph without the emotion attached to it. Regina had all that inside of her, and they were leaking.

She however, pretty much… refrained herself… if I can say that, from doing anything… well, rash. At least not herself.

As she was standing there, I saw her crying again. Regina cries just like you and me, as often as life requires it. And that was one of the many, many reasons I am fascinated by this being… all of the others are more or less stone cold, or just filled with anger that they hold back through excessive politeness or sarcasm, but Regina is a human being whenever she allows herself to be one, and changes into a stone-cold killing machine in a second if she needs herself to be that. Like I was saying at the very beginning of this story, I was always, always left speechless every time she showed me how much more human she is than most people I know. She enjoys life more than I do, more than anyone really.

But then again, she is the queen of what we call monsters, and we call them that for a good reason.

With a slow movement, she grabbed one of the bloody guns lying around her, stood up and pulled me violently towards her.

She shoved the gun in my hands and still with tears in her eyes said: “This is what life means sometimes. Protecting what you love.”

And she stood aside.

It took me a few moments to realize what she was actually asking me to do, and when I did realize, I instantly panicked. Couldn’t hold it back anymore. I stepped back, terrified, still holding the gun in a tight grip in my hands. I can still feel the warm blood on my hands even as I write this now.

Regina didn’t say anything, but I knew this was “a no getting out of” situation. I looked to my left and to my right, and a large part of… well… everyone, was watching me.

Regina wasn’t Regina no more, not at that moment. This bitch right there, she knew very well how to make me do anything I didn’t want to do. And I realized for the first time, that she was indeed pushing me through a forced training. I had a pretty good idea what was it for, but I refused to believe it.

“DO IT!” She shrieked at me.

I couldn’t believe what she was asking. HOW COULD SHE FUCKING ASK ME THIS?!

Who does she think she is – monster. How can you play with the lives of humans like this. You’re not a god!
Arrogant, petty and evil girl. The world would be a better place without your killings and righteous ideas.

I’d rather kill myself than become her!

In a moment of pure and utter stupidity (or pure rationality, can’t decide) I went close to Regina:

“Don’t force me to do this…” I said in a low, hush voice.

She smiled. Clearly she was not backing down.

I gripped the gun even harder and shoved it violently to Regina’s forehead. Me, barely a kid, never fired a gun. I was panicking, I was scared and I was above all, pissed off like no other time.

I pushed that gun to her forehead so hard that I saw her cringing and I squeezed that trigger so hard that even the slightest shiver would make me fire the gun, voluntarily or not. This was by all means, the best time in which nobody should even breathe.

I could see feel the whole yard tensing up, Viktoria being not even 5 meters away, all tensed up and ready to do… nothing. Because there was nothing she could do.

Regina held out her hands in a way of telling everybody “stand back” while still watching me in the eyes, not taking her eyes off mine, not even for a second.

She didn’t say anything. She just stared at me. I knew she knew that if I didn’t shoot her right away, I wasn’t really going to, but what she didn’t knew is that I really, really wanted to push that trigger one or two times, but I couldn’t. No matter how much I hated her, I loved her ten times more.

She also knew, that if a person wants to do something horrible, for example commit suicide, and you want to prevent him, you could do two things:

1. Keep that person locked-up, in a room without any tools or ways of hurting himself, forever, or

2. Leave the person alone in a bathroom that is equipped with everything, from scissors to razor-blades.

The outcome would be either 1 or, in case you decide going 2, and the person ends-up not doing anything, then you have the problem solved. You don’t need no guarding anymore, no explaining and no restraining. You need to push the person so far that he or she will make a decision, after which you can be pretty much sure that the decision has been, in fact, made.

To put it in other words: If you’re afraid someone you can’t lock-up, kill, or harm in any way, someone who will be with you every day, wants to cut your throat, give him a knife and go to sleep.

And sure enough, I caved. I lowered the gun and Regina lowered her hands.

But she didn’t cave.

She went behind me, and physically forced me to turn towards the three men who by now were pretty much lifeless, even though their heart was still beating, they were more or less aware of what was going to happen.

With her behind me, holding my hand tight and pushing it upwards, she made me take aim. She didn’t force me to shoot however. She stood back, and I remained like that, like a molded statue, frozen, barely breathing.

In my head, WW3 was being fought.

Do it. Don’t do it. Kill them. Are you crazy? NO! They killed one of them. So what? You’re not one of them. But Regina? Fuck her. No, how can you say that. Kill them, it’s no big deal. Just push the trigger. No, you won’t be able to live with yourself. Yes you will. No. Kill them already. No, they have families. No they don’t. Yes, they do. So what? They are humans. No they aren’t, they are more of a monster that any vampire. That’s not true. Yes, it is, because they are humans and still murder others. And what does that make me if I kill them? Shut up. Don’t think. Do it. Close your eyes. Do it. No. Don’t do it! Put the gun down! You have a choice. No you don’t. You either kill them or someone else will. Then let someone else do it. No, you need to do it. Do IT NOW. NO! DON’T!

Deep breath. Hold it.

Time frozen. Nothing was moving. No sound. The air wasn’t moving around me anymore. The wind, the stars, the lights, everyone there, my body included, everything, was gone.

Nothing existed anymore. I wasn’t breathing anymore, I couldn’t hear or see anything anymore.



I shot. My whole body shook and I was taken back a foot.

One of them just fell to the floor, limp, lifeless…

I. Had. Killed. Someone.

I was expecting myself to either vomit, faint or just lose any grip on reality, lose the power to stand….

But instead, what happened to me that night, is one of the reasons I’m even writing this blog.

Human nature happened. Instead of feeling sick, I felt empowered.

I didn’t want to admit it, I didn’t want to believe it. But I liked it. I liked having the power of life and death. I liked taking the lives of those who deserved, and the feeling that courses through your veins when you see that blood that you just spilled rushing on the floor is just unexplainable. It is dread, pure fear. Fear of what you became, fear of what you are… Fear that you’ve always been like this. In the same time, it’s euphoric, it’s better than sex, smoking, and riding a roller-coaster in the same time. You feel every hair on your body rise up, you feel every part of your skin buzzing with energy. You feel alert, you feel more alive than you’ve ever felt before.

I smiled and without wanting even to stop and think, I raised the gun again.




The remaining two also felt to the floor, and their blood was now merging into a steady stream towards my feet. I stood aside, disgusted but fascinated by it.

Is this what human nature is? Is this why we’ve built societies and are enforcing education and rules on our children? Are we – at our very core – predators, killers, evil?

Is this what happens to a person when you take away all guilt and all the rules, and allow him to take a life with absolutely no consequences? Is this what happens when you force a person to kill, out of his own will?

You strip away all the rules, all the morality, all the society accords, you strip away everything that person has been taught life should be, and you just leave a bare, open, pure instinct. A primeval instinct that is there, I assure you, in each and every of us. It’s dormant, and it better stay that way, because once you wake it, there’s no going back.

It’s like rasing a wolf-pup on boiled meat all its life. It will be a docile, almost domestic dog, with little to no interest in biting or harming anyone. The moment that wolf has a taste of pure, fresh meat, bloody meat – it will never be the same. The wolf changes completely, something in his brain activates, and he becomes a shark following a trail of blood. That same wolf will bite and murder the very human that raised him, at the very sight of blood. There’s no going back from it.

I dropped the gun and realized what I had just done, and sure, regret was there, and will always be there. I was more scared by the fact that I accepted it more easily than I would have wanted, and if I only had known what that night meant for me, I would have never have done it in the first place. Never. That was just the initiation, the start of what would become a very long trail of blood.

I had no interest in finding out what happens with all the bodies, although now I have a pretty good idea on what happened with them. There was no cleaning service like I liked to call it in Turkey, they needed to deal with them locally, and so they did. But that’s another story.

The main story is that Regina and I drove all the way from there to Sighisoara.

I didn’t say a word all the way back, she didn’t say anything either. Almost 24 hours of non-stop driving, without saying anything, without eating, without sleeping.

[audio http://k006.kiwi6.com/hotlink/0jt5whtmn3/maddi_jane_jar_of_hearts_christina_perri_.mp3]

We just went straight home, still covered in blood, each with his own regrets, each with his own reasons to cry inside.
I didn’t even care anymore who was behind everything and what the hell was going on, which was totally opposite to what Regina cared, because there was nothing more important for her than finding out who did this…

The whole way back I only had one thing in mind.

The feeling that I got from doing what I did, which didn’t disappear. It got stronger and stronger. Eating me from the inside out, making me crave for more.

I realized, for the first time, that I might actually want to be one of them, and live my life like that. For the first time, I understood what Regina truly was, and what she needed to do in order to keep everyone safe.

I understood all that, because I lived through it. I felt it. It’s one thing to hear it explained, see it, or read about it – and to actually take matters into your own hands, literally.

I felt empowered, I felt alive, and I realized that I never, ever wanted this feeling to go away.

I was ready to become one of them. I remember I was dead set on telling Regina right that very night, to finish with the games, to turn me in my own bed, in the comfort of my home, and to just be there when I wake up. I wanted to get it over with – the waiting, the games, and more than anything, I wanted “in” on everything she was, because I loved the smell of power, and metaphorically speaking, the taste of blood.

But that very thing that was screaming at me not to do it, not to murder those people, that very thing was now screaming even harder at me. I felt overwhelmed, and my free will was literally taken away from me.

I couldn’t open my mouth or do anything to tell Regina what I want. We ended up back home and I had no free will. Some higher, or lower, force, someone outside of my control, my sub-conscious, my each and every fiber of thought, was opposing my decision and my free will, and they all had one message for me:

Don’t do it.

But I wanted it so, so bad. I stopped writing in my diary, I stopped speaking to anyone.

I was literally going through withdrawal.

I mustered the power to speak a few words, and those words were not anything related to my true desire.

As we stood there, the second day after we arrived, outside my house, in the backyard, I grabbed Regina’s hands and I told her to basically leave me alone.

I can’t explain it to myself not even to this day, of what actually happened, and how it’s possible for your mouth to say something when your whole body craves and screams for something else, but I’m sure you all know the feeling.

I asked her to leave, and never come back. I asked her to leave me and the town alone, I asked her to give me my life back and just… go and lose herself in the sea of people. I ripped down the necklace and shoved it in her hands, I forced her to leave, I asked her to leave the house and leave the town and never come back, not for me, not for anyone I know.

“Please Regina, I want my life back… eternity is too much for me. I’m not who you’re looking for. Take this and just leave. Please.”

And she looked at me for a few seconds, then looked at her hands for another few seconds, then back at me… studying my eyes, my face…

She was looking for anything that would betray my decision, any sign of me not actually wanting this, but she didn’t find anything except a totally blank face. She convinced herself that I’m speaking my mind, and she left.

She didn’t take anything, she didn’t say anything, she just hopped inside the car and left.
I saw the car turning right, and that was it, she was… gone.

And you know what? I was 100% sure that she – or anyone sent by her – will never come for me again. I felt alone for the first time, and for a second there, I panicked at what I had just done, but then I shortly remembered of what I was actually capable (and WISHFUL!) of doing when I was with her, I didn’t even want to think what I would become if I was to be one of them, with such a thirst for blood in me from a young age, as a kid, a human… I couldn’t allow myself to go there. We had to part ways, forever. And we did.

But nevertheless, the lingering feeling and tought, the desire of blood and power remained… and it grew and it grew, and just like your deepest regrets that no matter what you do, you can’t push back, I couldn’t push back my desires also.

That line between: “I will never want to become one of you.” and “Maybe.” was crossed. I inclined towards maybe, starting from that night forward, and that’s all that it takes.

An idea.

Because a vampire is born out of acceptance of what he is, and the life he will have. It’s the thought and the idea first, then the actual birth of a vampire. And that night, for me, was the start of a totally different way of being, of thinking… and the start of a different road, towards a different goal. A goal that I didn’t set for myself, but that pushed itself into my head and heart.

A vampire was being born inside me, very slowly, but surely…

the town that was once peaceful [story part 31]

September 15, 2012 § 6 Comments


Blanche wasn’t answering her phone and this wasn’t like her. I immediately knew something was up, although not something necessarily bad. I wasn’t that stressed out about it, and this wasn’t a novel. However, something must be going on if Blanche wasn’t answering her phone. Everybody knew that. She was the “phone whisperer”. She was always the one to call all of us, connect the four of us, hold us together, and we relied on her for being available all the time, day or night. She didn’t fail on doing just that. However, Blanche was not exactly Blanche anymore so I didn’t knew what to think of it. I needed to talk to her regardless.

I didn’t leave right away, I figured she might be still sleeping, I patiently waited for nightfall minding my own business, calling Sophia and telling her to meet me at Blanche’s place at around 20:00, she also told me that she tried contacting Blanche and got no answer.

Later on, I got dressed, told my parents where I was going and left in a hurry. Two minutes later I was already regretting the decision of walking over there and not taking a cab. It was freezing as hell.

Nonetheless, by the time I got to the house I was already having three or four scenarios in my head, about how Blanche would react seeing us, if she missed us, how she will behave, if she’s changed and that sort of thing.




I was in front of the house, door wide open. Something is amiss.
I rushed inside the house fearing the worst. I feared Sophia has been hurt. I didn’t even think a second about Blanche being hurt. I already saw her as the invincible one among us.

As soon as I entered the house, sweet sourly and irony smell overwhelmed me. Blood. I knew that smell all too well.

Blood everywhere, blood in the kitchen, blood in the living room, three finger tops cut straight on the table. I got sick. Sick at my stomach, not because of the smell, not because of the sight of three fingers, because of the thought that one of my friends could be hurt. Or worse…

Loud bangs and voices from upstairs. Blood running up the railway, walls, carpets.

I ran upstairs and at the end of the stairs laid Blanche with her throat just ripped apart, barely breathing, if any breathing at all. All fingers in place. It must have been someone elses fingers. A man’s fingers. I knew hear heart was still beating, because there was blood still pumping out of her neck with each heartbeat. I saw her heartbeating you could say. I didn’t knew what to do, which was no surprise.

Take her and run. Go towards the screams and bangs. Decisions, decisions.

I recognized the voices once I got closer, I knew all too well it was Blanche’s parents who were screaming.

Fuck that. I’m out of here. I don’t even want to know who did this, but if it happened to Blanche, then I’m an easy target.

No, said destiny, and pushed me down the stairs, jumping at me from somewhere in the direction of the screams. Destiny was redheaded vampire named… I didn’t ask.
Over the rail, spin, hand at my throat, *thud*.

I felt the hard floor underneath me and that was it. I was out of air. The strength of that fall has taken away my ability to breathe. Just like you first jump into cold water, your body shuts down, your lungs refuse to take in any more air. Your thoracic diaphragm muscle refuses to cooperate anymore.

Above me, mouth wide open, fangs, bloodshot eyes, was a rather skinny redhead man, with a scruff and a burning desire to end me. I don’t need air. I need a mouth guard.

He was between 35 and 40, actually he looked that age, hell knows what was his real age, and he also was a lot stronger than me, that was for sure.

He leaped for my throat, face, shoulder, anything to bite on really, and by instinct I just stuck my hand inside his mouth. Bite on that Lassie.
Ah that was going to leave a scar, like the other one I got in the days where all this started. I think I still have a photo of the latter. Let me see.

Here we go:

Sorry if you were expecting something more spectacular, not just yet. Just an old scar.

The look in his eyes of me not being surprised by what he is was? Priceless. Offered me the upper hand. He didn’t know, or wasn’t sure of who I was and how come I was making no attempt at running. I guess he was used to people seeing his eyes and fangs, and then immediately proceed on running for their lives. I wanted to do that a minute earlier, but since he changed my mind (read as: threw me from upstairs) I was in for a fight.

I was no match for a true vampire, but this guy, he wasn’t that old. I had learned to sniff them out, based on the look in their eyes, based on the confidence they inspire.  He was no assassin, he was no problem fixer. He was more of someone little helper, doing errands and whatnot.

In the begginings I always pondered about how is it that vampires immediately know amongst themselves who is older than who, but now I was starting to get the hang of it. Given, it could be faked, if wanted. You could fake you’re younger, anytime, but rarely managed to pull of a strategy to make you seem much older than you actually were.

Willpower, composure, luck, call it what you want, but countless hours of training with Regina were kicking in, and I felt I had a chance there.

Aim for the eyes. Aim for the eyes. – Regina’s voice – In my head.
I punched him in the nose, with my forehead, and with that he let go of my left arm to push my face back down. That was all I needed. A left arm and two fingers. With the guy almost blind for a few seconds, I managed to get my bearings, stood up and ran for it.

I was aiming for the back door of the kitchen, but the knife on the table was just too out in the open and too good to be true. He was right behind me, one more second and I would had been under him again.

Run, hand on the table, knife. Leap, turn – don’t think. Aim. Instinct. Hear. He’s there. Do it. In a leap and a turn around, I grabbed the knife and did a full 180 degrees turn with it without stopping running. Rambo style, I was scared shitless. So scared I even had my eyes closed the whole time.

Missed? Open your eyes. The knife was deep inside his chest, heart missed. There was no surprise there, I wasn’t even aiming for anything.

He was holding tight to my hand on the knife and trying to leap towards me to bite on something, but I kept moving backwards and backwards, and he kept reaching with his free arm for my head.
He tried punching or clawing me, but I dodged and at that moment I remembered what Regina always told me during fights. I’m too stubborn. That was indeed a fault. Most people, they hold on to their only weapon. They try getting it back. They don’t let go. They are stubborn. I was part of the ‘most people’.

I realized I wasn’t going to take that out and hit with it again. That was just not possible. I let go, barred his left hand with my newly freed right hand, while still facing him, and put myself in Regina’s shoes. How does she do it? How does she fight?

  • Make use of the environment.
  • Have the upper ground.
  • Be the attacker. Even if you’re being attacked.
  • Scream. Scream at the attacker. Intimidate your opponent.

Are you kidding me? I’m not prepared to fight a grown up man, vampire for that matter.

Nonetheless, after barring his left hand I turned around and ended behind him. I remember letting go at that point. For the first time, I let go with my mind. I wasn’t in control, mentally. Not anymore. Let your instincts flow.

To be honest, it would have been a nice memory, if it wasn’t for that tiny detail, someone trying to kill you.

I let go and felt a rush through my whole body.

I grabbed a drawer, pulled it out completely, used it as a shield while backing down. I gave that drawer up too. Jumped over the counter, turned, stumbled, fell, got up and of course… he was still after me.

  • Be the attacker.

Lids. Yes. Lids saved my life.

One by one I threw three lids at him like frisbee discs, they were by no means meant to hurt anyone, just putting him off guard. And for the first time, I advanced towards him while he was advancing towards me. I screamed my lungs out. I roared. I made little girls noises and I felt like William Wallace (Braveheart). I had no idea what I was doing, but I wasn’t in control anymore. I threw myself upon him, we rolled over and in the pile of kitchen utensils left over from when I pulled out the drawer, there was a knife sharpener, that was pretty much like a stake. Long, thin, but not sharp. I grabbed that in my hand and then I gave up.

I went limp, stopped, tired, neck showing. Everything according to plan. Sure enough, a second later he stuck his fangs deep inside my shoulder and not neck. Good boy. I also stuck something of my own in him. Yes, the knife sharpener. When he was least expecting it, straight behind his head, right in the sweet spot where the skull (the literal bone) begins.

He went limp in under a second, and I felt his full weight over me.

He was dead, or dying, or paralyzed. I didn’t care. It was over.

I pushed him over and ran straight upstairs to Blanche.

Now I have to tell you, this couldn’t have taken more than one minute. It might seem a long thing, but in the midst of it, things were going so quickly that eyes could barely track the whole ordeal. Black on white it sounds like a big story, as I now see it, but being there, it was a heartbeat.

“I need more training”, I remember I was thinking as I ran up the stairs, that and “I hope she’s alive”.

By the time all this ‘happening’ ended, Blanche’s parents were opening the door from the room they locked themselves into, the master bedroom, the room into which this guy was trying to enter.

Blanche was still on the floor, unconscious, not breathing anymore and her heart had stopped. Dead by any definition.
I was over her, shaking her violently to wake up, her parents screaming (still? really?) and not approaching. You would think that it’s like in the movies, when a parent sees his child in such a state he immediately jumps over to try and help him, but in reality it’s not like that. The horror that your child might be dead puts an invisible barrier between you, as a parent, and the child. You just don’t want to face reality, and that’s as human as it gets.

[audio http://k006.kiwi6.com/hotlink/4ks372ye84/mediaeval_baebes-_the_circle_of_the_lustful.mp3]

We humans don’t want to face reality, we don’t want to face anything bad or anything that might disrupt our lives. We want it to continue as better as possible, and we refuse to acknowledge the truth before it is too late.

No matter, Blanche was still there and Sophia was just coming inside the house, she had just arrived and was trying to make heads or tails of what happened.

Blanche couldn’t be dead. This can’t happen. Not to her. This was the second time me and Sophia were seeing Blanche with her throat open, dead by all means.

Sophia had tears in her eyes even before seeing Blanche I think, and she immediately dropped to her knees besides her when she saw Blanche.

They have been friends since… forever, since they were born, not even a month apart, they had been there for one another. Friends, forever, a textbook definition. And they really were friends, not the kind you see all the time, friends for a while but arguing for everything in the long run, and then just loosing touch with each other. No, they really were friends, the true kind of friend that’s there whenever you need him, the kind of friend that when you’re with, you feel more comfortable than being just by yourself.

Few things are more powerful than friendship, maybe love, maybe not even that. But you know one that isn’t? Insanity.
They (I don’t know who) say that only the truly insane can bite themselves until they bleed, that you cannot make a conscious, sane decision to do that, that your instincts forbid you from doing so, and no sane person is able to bite themselves until they bleed. In the same way that you cannot hold your breath until you die.

But Sophia did just that. With one look at me, realizing I was bleeding from all over, shoulder, neck, hand, a leg… She realized I was in no position in giving up even more blood. And she was right.

She took her wrist to her mouth and just bit as hard as she could, screaming and squirming in the process, tears in her eyes, which were wide-shut, but couldn’t hold back the tears either way.

Blanche’s parents watching in horror, she took her wrist to Blanche’s mouth and shoved it inside, and then looked at me. I knew what she wanted. Do something, anything, help me.

With two hands on Blanche’s chest, I pushed so hard trying to make her heart beat once again, just for a second even, that in the process I broke all her ribs, or at least it felt like it, because I could hear cracking all over. I didn’t stop. I didn’t care. I knew that if even for a second Blanche could be alive, the instincts would take over.

All I heard was a quick but loud gasp from Sophia, and then saw her smile. Blanche started drinking.

Her parents were watching in horror, couldn’t figure out what was happening, but seeing Blanche move they dared to approach and then look in horror, frozen there besides her, looking and looking at how she was draining Sophia, at her eyes, deep dark red swirling inside of them, glowing, glittering – reigniting the spark that we call life. Good girl.

Her wounds were deep, and were not healing, not visibly at least, not as fast as a full vampire’s would, but she wasn’t bleeding anymore. She drained Sophia dry, and Sophia fainted. Ten seconds or less after that, I fainted too. I was out. All that was still keeping me conscious was the tought of Blanche dying, and with that solved, I could let go and so I did. Adrenaline had left me.

“Death is nothing to us, since when we are, death has not come, and when death has come, we are not.”

Epicurus, you lying bastard. Here I was, realizing I’m dying, death has come, and I still am. I know that’s not what he meant and I understand the true meaning of that quote, but being right there, in that situation, feeling life flowing away from you, didn’t seem that death wasn’t anywhere else but right there above me.

I woke up to screaming. Again.

As soon as I flinched, Blanche was above me, helping me get up.

“Good! You’re up! Thank you!” Blanche said in a loud voice, trying to cover the screaming of her parents.

“I can’t get them to shut up!” she added while looking annoyed at the loud screams.

When I looked in the direction of the screaming, there they were, both her parents tied up on the sofa, squirming around trying to break loose and screaming their heads off. Good thing they had this remote (mostly) house. Scream as you will, carry on.

“Blanche, what the fuck, who tied them?”
“I did. They were trying to run. I don’t know what to do. I can’t kill them. I can’t keep them alive either. I can’t turn them. They know what I am. What now?”

“Are you seriously thinking about murdering your own parents?” I said.

“Of course not. What the hell, no. But I’m… I don’t know. Help?” Blanche responded in a louder tone and sounding a bit angrier.

Ughh… I had to sit down. I was dizzy as hell, cold and sweating. I sat down next to her parents.

“I’ll set you free if you promise to stop screaming and agree to drink a tea with me. What do you say?” I asked both of them.

They both nodded frantically and just stopped moving, screaming, or saying anything. Good.

Sophia was already on it – thats why I asked – she got up apparently before I did, and even though she could barely stand on her feet, she was making a huge pot of tea with industrial quantities of sugar. Apparently we needed that. I didn’t object. I wasn’t this thirsty in my whole life. Only two hours had past I noticed, the clock was nearing 22:30.

And we all sat down and tried explaining what had just happened, even though we had no idea. We tried explaining to Blanche’s parents what she is and what’s going to happen. We told them she’s not a vampire, not yet, but not human entirely either.

We told them than in less than two or three years, their daughter will be human no more.

They were well aware of everything. There’s not a single person in Transylvania who doesn’t know the difference between a vampire (a strigoi) and a half-breed or the child of a vampire (a moroi).

They were pretty religious, although not stupid nor irrational. And when it comes to the general population in Transylvania, old traditions and myths take precedence over religion. That said, remember the Petre Toma case I presented earlier? About the family that digged up their relative, pulled his heart out, burned it and made a drink out of the ashes? Would you consider that religious? No, not really. However they were all religious people, fearing god and all that. One of them was a lawyer, one a doctor. Still religious, and no matter how religious they were, tradition, myth or belief in vampires still took precedence.

This was the case here. It wasn’t a case of “this can’t be true” it was more of a case of “this can’t be happening to us”.

At the time they seemed to take it pretty well, although still looking at their daughter like it was the devil himself, but in the end realizing it is their daughter and nobody else.

We decided not to untie them, tea can wait.

“Mother, father, I’m still me. There’s nothing different about me. I ate breakfast with you this morning.” Blanche said.

“YES AND TWO HOURS AGO YOU ATE SOPHIA!” her father blurted out. Sophia smiled. She was just that giddy. After all we’ve been through, she still held on to her joyful state of being. Always smiling, always Sophia. She’s still the same you know, I saw her this summer. Still smiling. Good for her.

“Yes, that’s true, but would you rather have me dead?” Blanche responded.

They didn’t answer. They weren’t sure.
We stayed up almost all night, until we (Sophia and I) almost passed out again. We eventually did go to sleep, and Blanche’s parents were still tied up the second day.

When we woke up the two of them were still sleeping on the couch, tied up, and Blanche was sleeping in her room. Sophia was already up and about (again) and in the kitchen apparently making breakfast. Old habits die hard.

I called home and told my parents I had spent the night here and then untied Blanche’s parents.

“She’s sleeping. Don’t freak out.” I told them. And they listened.

After this it gets a bit boring, until three days later when I realized I was still missing my necklace and I had no idea where it is, how to get it back, and where the hell was Viktoria when we needed her.

Blanche healed rather quickly but I didn’t. The thought of my necklace missing made me weak and sick, and I don’t know to this day if it’s self-induced auto-suggestion, if I’m crazy, or what else is going on, but a week without that necklace and I can’t even breathe properly anymore – I just grew up with it. Don’t you have something you care for really, really, really much? Like a ring, a watch, or something else. Something really important for you that only the thought about losing it makes you sick and makes your heart skip a beat.

That, coupled with my wounds still awfully painful and not closed, and a serious lack of blood, anemia 120%, I wasn’t really in a good shape. My parents cared for me every day and for the first time I heard my father saying something along the lines of this needs to stop, although not so directly. He wasn’t keen on seeing his son with wounds on him all the time that’s for sure.

So what had just happened there? Well, I had three days to think about it, by myself, and in those three days none of us spoke to each other, until the fourth night when the story starts again…

We were under attack. By a vampire. In our own homes. That has never, ever happened. Not until that time.  The kinship knew pretty well Blanche was a direct descendant of Regina. Nobody would dare attack her. Nor me. But here we were, both a step away from death. We were in this life because we felt secure, we didn’t feel threatened and we didn’t feel we’re part of a movie or a crime novel.

This has never happened under her reign. This has never happened to her offspring. Where are you? Where are you? Where are you?


fundamental issues [story part 30]

September 14, 2012 § 3 Comments

THAT BITCH had bitten me during the night. I should have known better.

Some people are afraid to sleep with their windows open, some people are afraid of spiders. Here I was sleeping next to an unconscious, apparently hungry vampire.

Of course she would go and do something like that. It was afterall, a night, and I guess old habits die hard. But this was not the time to find excuses. I had broken a promise I made to myself long ago, never give up to Viktoria. You see, some of you might think (as I thought at the time) that this is, in a sick and twisted way, a relationship builder. As in, it would get me closer to Viktoria, making her more like a friend, and less like an enemy.

But that’s false. Vampires are not dogs. You don’t throw them a bone and everything is warm and fuzzy in happy land, and you’re now friends. No. The moment you become food, you… become food. As in, it’s a step back, not a step forward. You do not evolve from “human” to “friend”. You devolve from human, straight to food. Friend is rarely mentioned.

It was the 24th of January 2006. By the time I had come to my senses, feeling the bite marks with my right index finger I already knew that I couldn’t spend another night with Viktoria and Viktoria alone, but that was another promise that I was making to myself which eventually I was bound to break.

Viktoria didn’t wake. She didn’t even flinch. She was feeling apparently more than welcome and comfortable in my bed and my room. And I couldn’t blame her. Like I was saying in the beginning of the blog, I was always more on the “old things” guy. I loved everything that was old and anything that took your mind back to the era of kings and queens. I was just always fascinated by it for some reason, although the whole house was very modern and more than enough tech equipped for the 21st century, my room was resembling a rather 17th century bedroom with nothing more than a shelf, a table, a big bed and a mirror. Something like this, although less spectacular.

I was however contemplating on the idea between waking her up gently or waking her up… the way she deserved.

She was sleeping and rather uncommon for a January day, the sun was shining powerfully and the light was gently brushing against her side of the bed. She was no Regina. She was much more muscular than Regina, and taller I might add. She smelled differently. Regina usually smelled like, well not exactly that smell, but the feeling that you got from smelling her, was similar to the feeling you get when smelling old books…

I can’t really describe it, but I’m sure you all know it. It’s that feeling that makes you exhale and inhale again, and again, and again. And even though it’s the same smell, you keep doing it because it’s addictive in a way. You can’t really say WHAT is that smell, but you like it.

Some people say that about gasoline also. I beg to differ. I like the smell of old books. That’s how Regina smelled. It was an unfamilliar yet strongly addictive smell, just like her eyes.

Viktoria on the other hand smelled like caramel or toffee or whipped cream with too much sugar in it. It was a… distinct smell, pleasant, yet not addictive and, on the contrary, it was the kind of smell that, if inhaled more than once or twice, has the potential to make you sick to your stomach. Kind of like eating too much honey or something way over your league too sweet.

I wasn’t complaining, I wondered how I smelled like and I also wondered how I smelled like for them. I know the answer of how I smelled like for Viktoria, seeing as she just fed on me in her sleep. It clearly wasn’t unattractive. McDonald’s french fries.

But enough with the smell.
I got up and as stealthy as I could I reached under my bed where I was keeping this big, sharp, heavy and shiny stainless steel stake which I secretly called “The End”.

You see, I was planning on murdering Regina at some point, because of all the books and movies and retarded texts that I have read, which all eventually convinced me that sooner or later, a vampire will turn on you and your family no matter how well you know each other and how involved you are. So I prepared. It was a foolish idea then, because of several things. First, there’s no way you’re going to be able to use that, not on Regina, secondly, the vampire that turns on you is a false, misleading and plain wrong concept, and third, I didn’t have the strength to use it, now that I think of it, that stake was way too thick.

[audio http://k006.kiwi6.com/hotlink/d6339y0y30/old_irish_blessing_keep-mp3.com_.mp3]

Regardless, I grabbed it, got on top of Viktoria and stuck it in the air above her head, stopping just short of her forehead, barely scratching it. She opened her eyes. Now, one would normally expect caution, no sudden movements and a nice, calm tone from the one being under the threat of a weapon, especially when you wake up to that threat. That wasn’t the case here. I was in almost no time, on the table in the other corner of the room, shelves and chairs broken all around me, books from the shelves above almost poking my eyes out and all that.

She practically didn’t even blink before doing that. I guess she was used to it. Or was it just normal predatory response? Never back down? No matter, she looked puzzled.

“Last night you offered me a home and now you’re offering me eternal peace? I didn’t knew you were so kind-hearted…” Viktoria said.

“You bit me and it hurts, it hurts my mind that you are now basically functioning on me-essence.” I replied.

“I woke up in the middle of the night, hungry, thirsty and with a fresh water well and a freshly cooked pig next to me. What did you expect.” She said.

Nobody ever called me a “fresh water well and a freshly cooked pig”. To be honest, I don’t think there is one single person in this whole galaxy who has been called that at some point in his life.

“I’m telling mom.” I replied sarcastically, got up and left the room. Mom, as to Regina, not as to my actual mom. My actual mom didn’t really need to know anything, although she expected to see me with my neck like that.

It’s funny how people just cringe at the idea that there could be a 100% normal family, from any point of view, just living about with a vampire in their house that occasionally brings friends, and they all leave bite marks behind. It’s just crazy even when I think about it. But we were on the same wavelength. I understood that this wasn’t deception, oppression, cause of fear or anything. It was just something that happened, has fairly low chances of happening anytime soon again, and they just understood there are things going on.

My father was just charmed by both Regina and Viktoria. Him, like me, didn’t fear that much, plus he always was, and is, somewhat of a history and geography maniac, he likes to read and discuss different events that changed the world, historical facts that might have gone different, reasons behind why the world is how it is and how could it had been different if certain events would have unfolded differently. So, whenever he got the chance to talk with them, he would. His eyes were gleaming whenever there was talk of “togetherness” (as in the whole family and ‘guests’) sharing an evening, day or whatever. He also understood they were guests, and not demons. I think being the most atheist family on the block helped also.

By the time I got out of the shower and returned to the room, Viktoria was already up and about, but because it was a Thursday, which meant the house was usually empty until 17:00 when parents got back home from work, she was rather bored.

You know those type of children who are just really, really full of energy, at around the age of 5, but you, in some instances, like a medical waiting room or a quiet restaurant, force them to stay, shut up and don’t say anything, and they just turn their heads to the floor, put a lip down and say nothing, occasionally bursting out for a second and then quickly composing themselves again. That’s how she was. Bored, yet full of energy, like a lion in a cage.

“Don’t you have business to attend to?” I asked.

“Well, I actually came here straight from the end of the world. Regina called for me and I went. She made a list of requests, two actually, that we need.” She replied.


“Yes, we need your necklace and a bit of blood, just a tiny bit.”

“What? What for? No.”

“It’s for the little project you and her are working on. Don’t ask me. Just give me what I need and I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Viktoria, there’s no way you’re getting my necklace.”

“Ok.” She replied.

“Then the blood.” – Which I agreed to, and she bit me once again, from the wrist, let it trickle down a bit into a small plastic vial. It didn’t feel nor look good no matter how you take it. I’d rather have someone sucking on my neck, than being forced to watch this. It just isn’t natural, but I guess some might argue that being bitten isn’t natural either. Guess what, it is. At least it had become more natural to me than what was happening right there.

“I’m sorry for last night.” She said in a low voice, with her head down, white, silvery hair covering her face, her eyes on my wrist, holding it with both hands and letting it go as soon as she said it.

Then, with the vial in her pocket, she ripped the necklace from my neck and ran. Just like that, in under two seconds, she was gone, out the door, but in a hurry. I couldn’t be bothered to run after her, I knew better.

Can you hate her? I was just… amazed at how sneaky she was, at how much she tried to fulfil any of Regina’s requests, and at how little she cared about anyone and anything else.

I hated the position she was in, and the way she made me look and feel, sure, but hate her ways or her as a person… I’m not sure.

This wasn’t over in any case. All that has happened meant nothing really, what bothered me the most was that she took off before telling me when and if Regina is coming back, or where is she and how to get in touch with her. I just… I wanted to be “in” again.

I remember clearly to this day how I had a revelation around that time, which was in the lines of “I always want to be on both sides. That thing with the grass is greener on the other side must be true. Because I always want to be with Regina running around taking part in her daily routine, but once there, I always wanted to go back to a normal life.”

And this is another reason why I could never decide on being turned or not. Once you choose, that’s it. You can never go back to the normal life. What happens then if I just can’t get used to being 24/7 on one of the sides? Do I end up like all the others, ending my own life?

And if I chose not to be turned, and become old and sick and all that, won’t I have the biggest regret a human being has ever had, passing out on eternal youth?

In any case, back to where Viktoria took off.

I picked up the phone and called Blanche. I had hoped at least she wasn’t in on the plan, and was still around.

Where Am I?

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