know who you are before trying to know others [story part 7]

January 20, 2012 § 10 Comments

December 16, 13:00

Sighisoara in the winter

The title of this post still appeals to me and I hold it dear for it has taught me to look at myself, always, before looking at others. This is especially helpful at times.

But in the same line of thought, I will continue writing about what I was talking in the post below. Feel like it’s too much to take in? Feels like a fantasy teenage romance novel already? Yeah, I know. I would love to call it fantasy, but it wasn’t. It isn’t.

Like I said in the beginning of the blog, just stating things, with bullet points, out of the blue, with no explanations, like “Ghosts are real”, has never helped anyone and that’s why I’m trying to be as detailed as possible in writing these posts. Might feel as a novel or fantasy book. I don’t care.


Back to the post.

After finding out that story from the mouth of my mother and father, I was still feeling like I was the main character of a very, very sick joke. I couldn’t really fathom all the information, and trust me, I was never religious, neither me or my family, I’m the most skeptical person (well, I was) that you could have met, I criticized everything and I was always the person to ask “Why?” and “How?” over and over again.

I couldn’t take in all this crap, for that it was like it seemed – it had to either be a joke or a dream – or people going crazy around me. Black eyed children and old necklaces, vampires, magical healing, really? No way. I kept trying to explain everything to myself in a reasonable way. I tried finding biological reasons for Regina’s fangs, eyes and strength. I buried (pun intended) myself in scientific research, online and at the town’s library, trying to figure out other accounts of spontaneous disappearance of leukemia, which apparently happened before to other kids my age, although not as fast.

All in all, I wasn’t really pleased with my findings. I could explain some things, but I had no clue what was about to come next.
I remember it was the start of December, already started snowing, cold as hell outside and I was glad Christmas holiday is coming and school is out for 2 or 3 weeks.

After about a month of research, right at the door step of winter holidays, around 15th of December onwards, I was already pretty done with research and almost back to my normal life. I kept thinking about Regina everyday, and granted, that was the only reason keeping me on doing more and more research. Her words battered my brain everyday: “We will meet again” were her last words before vanishing. I sure hoped so.

Walking one day to downtown (to which the shortest route is crossing the citadel, from one side of the town to the other) I passed by Dracula’s house, which is nowadays a bar, restaurant and museum. It’s sad they turned it into a bar but at least the upper chambers are a museum.

In any case, I noticed something hanging from the house, something which has been there for hundreds of years, something that I passed by at least a few hundred times and never noticed. How could I be so, so blind !

The sign, logo or whatever you want to call it – on the house – was somehow reminding me of my necklace. I looked at it, I looked at my necklace. I looked at it again. Something was amiss. I had a feeling I’ve seen something similar, but wasn’t quite able to put my finger on it.

Now comes the interesting part. This is the actual sign.  Tell me if you see the connection. I did.
If you don’t see it, all you have to do is look at the post photo below, the one posted in the post named “when the moon has a ring…”.
What’s the link between the drawing of my necklace – and this sign?

Both have a weird elongated dragon which bites his own tail. Although the sign doesn’t really look exactly like the dragon in the drawing, it made me think.
I went inside the house and ventured straight up the stairs, the entrance is free for city residents and I already knew the attendant working there. Small town. Anyway, it didn’t take me long to find something that blew my mind.

Now, you have to understand, the town has completely different stories, most of them, than the ones you read in Bram Stoker’s Dracula or the Wikipedia about Vlad Tepes. And besides, most people (city residents) don’t bother reading those, they feel they already know everything there is to know, proud and stupid, like I was.

Back to the story – it didn’t take me long to see two small drawings that made me almost faint. It was nothing more, and nothing less than the simple inscription, logo, blazon if you wish, in other words the coat of arms or the emblem of the “Order of the Dragon” – order which Dracula’s father and Dracula himself belonged too – order which, for all intents and purposes, gave Dracula his “Draculea” name. To understand this you have to read my first two posts about Dracula – to know how he came to be Dracula. Which are not ramblings, but pure facts taken from history books.

If you’re anxious seeing the emblems then here they are: this is one, and this is the other.
See the connection now? My necklace – the drawing of my necklace – the sign on Dracula’s house – the coat of arms used by his order, all of them, matched. They all had the same thing: an elongated dragon eating its own tail.

More on that, the second blazon made my knees gave way. I had to sit down. The second one, not only has the dragon, but the round thing above it, that round thing is a part of my necklace also, it’s small – penny size – and sits between the actual pendant and the chain itself. The horizontal bar on it is what the chain is attached (twisted around) to. Think of it like a keyring, the keys being the pendant.

How could I have never seen this – I was stunned. And more on the matter, what the hell did this mean? Things were getting weird again just when I was about to go back to normal.

In any case, I immediately picked up the big ass manuscript in the museum, which is forbidden to handle by the way, because it’s really old, and part of it is written by Dracula himself. In any case, it’s not your typical museum. It’s just two floors of an old house, with no alarms, guards or cameras. There’s nothing of REAL value there. The attendants themselves are most of the time down below, in the bar. Which was the case now.

The manuscript is part in Latin and I could understand something out of it but the handwriting sure made it much more harder than normal. I decided not to waste anymore time and I went straight home and straight online.

And to my amazement of how retarded I was for not reading it sooner, here it was, everything. The emblems, the history that I needed to know and something else, something I had absolutely no clue about.

Vlad “the Impaler” Tepes, Dracula – was – wait for it – the great-uncle of Erzsébet Báthory. I was shaking already. I later found out this is somewhat common knowledge and it escaped my view for so long. I was always interested in Dracula, but this, this was new.

It’s all here. Mind you, this is the Romanian Wikipedia page and you need to use Google Translate for it. But it’s there, you can see he was married with Cnaejna Bathory, a hundred years before Elizabeth Bathory was born.

There was something here, and it was not a wild goose chase. I knew one when I saw it, and this was not the case.
The story my mother told me, black eyed kids whispering “Báthory” as instructions for the necklace, and then, years later, finding out the necklace belonged to Anna Báthory, which was the daughter of Elizabeth Báthory. That, plus the fact that  Elizabeth Báthory, Anna/Regina’s mother, was the great-nephew of Dracula. Plus the fact that the same necklace was Dracula’s order coat of arms. They connected somewhere, I just didn’t see it. Also, I had no idea what’s the role of the black eyed children in all this.

Anyway, you can check and recheck all of what I said above. You can see for yourself: the coat of arms, the bloodline, the family ties. Everything. This was good news for me also, I had something which I considered “REAL” because heh, I found it in “history books”.

Little did I realize, until it was too late, not related to this, but to others, that history books don’t often account for events as they actually unfolded. If they ever did.

In any case – this was the story of the necklace up until this point.

– – – Please, please – before drawing any conclusions about how I’m crazy, how I make things up, how this doesn’t make sense – please, CHECK what I just said – point out what doesn’t match.

And please, don’t dare thinking about what I just said if you didn’t read the whole blog, ESPECIALLY the first and the second post, PLUS the “who am I” page. It just doesn’t make sense without those. You have to know the history, as stated on Wikipedia, history books and old manuscripts, of Vlad Tepes and the town, before drawing any conclusions.


The post is not over yet – this will be a long one. I needed to get the first part out of the way, for you to understand the necklace for later. Like I said, things are not necessarily in chronological order and that’s why we’re going back a few days and then forward again.


December 13th, somewhere in the middle of the night.
I remember I had a nightmare about the crypt and how I was locked in it again, and then felt a sharp deep pain in my chest. It was very sharp, it felt like a burning-hot stake and think of it I could smell the burning flesh also. I remember, that in the dream I started seeing more and more light inside the crypt and I started shouting for help before realizing the light was coming from the inside and not the outside. My necklace was bright as the sun – couldn’t look at it for one second and it was also pretty hot. Hot enough to burn my chest enough for smell of roasted beef to come out. I remember that I refused to take it off even then. In the dream.

Little detour for why I don’t take off my necklace:

(I never took down my necklace – except once – which just reinforced my feelings. I was in Greece on a 10 days holiday and I was 13 years old, I took down the necklace at the hotel fearing I’ll lose it in the sea if I go swimming. I went to the beach which was quite nice I remember and then forgot to put it back when I came home. A night passed, another one passed and so forth. In about the sixth night, I woke up, sweating and shivering in the same time. I was hungry and I went out to get something to eat, which was not uncommon given the fact that it was a tourist town, open all the time, teeming and buzzing with people. All in all, I ate a kebab and I was still hungry and started seeing double, I was dizzy, nausea and everything. I kept thinking about bad things, really, really bad things. I couldn’t understand why. I was thinking the kinds of things a serial killer is thinking, I saw pictures of people dying in my head, I imagined the whole resort void of life. I scared the shit out of myself and blamed it on the fact that I was tired. Went back to the hotel and fell asleep, or fainted. Everybody was happy as a clam, they were, my friends – happier than I’ve ever seen in my life. I was sad, numb, dizzy, feeling nausea, I started feeling cold at 35 Celsius, I was shivering, I got sick and I was about to go mad with all the awful thoughts I had. Couldn’t explain what was happening. Still can’t. In any case, the moment I saw the necklace in the drawer I took it and put it on, thinking I’m not going to the beach in the state I was anyway, and immediately fell asleep. When I woke up I was myself again and the people around me started being themselves too. At the time I figured how good is sleep, heals everything. Little did I realize what was the real motive for everything. That, plus other things that I fear, make me never take down the necklace. It’s a love/hate relationship with it. I’m content I have it, I’m attached to it, but I despise I’m too scared to take it off.)

Now remember kids – there’s no such thing as magic. That’s what I told myself everyday. Given, I was ready to accept vampires – almost – after meeting one which I was not yet sure it’s real. I was ready to explain it, biologically. But not magic. That I couldn’t accept. I needed to learn how to be more open-minded. That might sound lame, but it was the case, and still is, for me and many of you reading this.

But here I was, dreaming this and waking up to something I thought was a thunder – and immediately I took the necklace in my hand to try to rip it off my neck – thinking I’m still in the dream. However, I didn’t, but the necklace was burning hot – not as hot like in the dream – but it was hotter than I could bear. Can’t explain it to this day, I try to pin it to my imagination, I try to think about the fact that it got hot from my body, being metal and all, but there’s no way I can heat metal to 60 or 70 Celsius.

I remember I thought about magic – and a complementary thought came in my mind – something I had seen in “Stargate SG-1” the show, yes, the one with aliens. I remember some member of the crew saying something in the lines of “Well, science and technology can be seen as magic to the untrained or unaware eye”.

Which is true – 200 years ago a mobile phone – something that for us today is the most common thing – would have been seen as magic. You could risk being classified as a witch or the devil for having one. Think about it. I know I did.

I’m not trying to say anything here, just the fact that things are not always what they seem to be.



December 27th, 4:00

I was sleeping and I woke up to rain falling on the side of my window. At least it sounded like that. It wasn’t.
The sound was made by two nails, touching my window repeatedly, in a random-rhythmic kind of way.

I got out of bed and went to the window – it was snowing. Stupid me. Rain in December, that would be something new for me. Never seen it. Instead, two perky lips were puckered against the window and a glitch of a smile could be seen. Regina.

Her hair had a tint of red to it – it was still dark and smooth and shiny, flowing all around. Her lips were pink, her skin, milky white as always, shiny as a pearl.
Eyes dark with a tiny spark in them – the spark of life. The spark you see in your lovers eyes. The spark that we call a soul.

This is no vampire I thought.

She was wearing black tights, elastic material, which had leather only on the front side, from above the knee to just below the knee. You can see such pants in Scandinavian countries, where there’s a lot of biking in the rain involved, and your legs don’t get wet in the leather area, usually that area is the one most exposed to rain as you march forward on the bike through the rain. Nonetheless, they are tight on the skin – ninja style maybe. Cat-woman like. I liked it.

She had black boots, pirate like – maybe steam punk a bit – definitely not emo style. They were about 5cm above the ankle. Fancy, not out of the ordinary. You could pull them off on a Saturday for sure.
On the top side she had a black leather jacket with a high rise, kind of like a rocker style jacket but with no shiny things on it. Just black and stylish with a lining inside with the color of a deep purple and alternating interleaved with whiter purple, kind of like lilac plants are. Beneath the jacket I remember she was wearing a big puffy sweater with a or lack of a neck. The front of the sweater was almost missing but she had instead a white scarf wrapped around her neck three or four times. The scarf was made out of black, raw, untreated leather. It was pretty thin, and on the inside it had an also thin lining of purple velvet. I still think that was the most interesting, beautiful and weird scarf ever.

No earrings, no piercings, no tattoos, no lipstick, no make-up. There was no need. She looked perfect. Applying make-up would be like painting a new car. She was the purple-black ninja.

Again, I thought: this is no vampire.
I was pretty much speechless, I had forgotten how beautiful she actually was. Maybe I tried to make her worse, in my mind, in the time she was away. For locking me in the crypt and whatnot. I didn’t care. She was better than I expected, and that feeling is just… amazing.

I’m sure you know the feeling – the one when you expect something to be the best – to be exactly like you dreamed and then you receive it – and it has tiny differences than what you expected – but those differences make it even better in way you could not have imagined, and your joy is doubled. One, because this is the dream “thing” and two, because it’s better than your version of the dream “thing”.

As I opened the window she immediately slid inside. I thought if the “you have to invite a vampire in” thing was actually real, but then I remembered she did actually ask me to invite her in just a month ago. With one cat-like move she came in, stopping suddenly in her landing just 5cm away from my face, her lips still puckered. She was waiting, eyes closed.

I couldn’t help it – I kissed those lips like I was kissing life itself. They were pure nectar for me. They were the kind of food one needs, except food. You know, emotional food. The one that keeps you going, keeps you pushing, keeps you smiling and happy. Dreamy. The one you usually get from little things. Like drinking your favorite beverage, watching your favorite show, hearing your favorite song, doing a good deed, making someone proud of you, the kind of things that make you feel good.

She drew a long and deep breath, opened her eyes and hugged me like any teenage girl would. Like a lover you haven’t seen in a while. She was beaming with happiness. I was already smiling to myself with my mouth extended beyond the limits of acceptable.

How could this girl be a centuries old vampire? They were supposed to be grim, dark, gloomy, bored of life and silent. She was the exact opposite. I had never seen a more happy, lively and full of… light? Person in my whole life. Ever. She was light her self. And she was, by the definition of a vampire, immortal. Eternal. Lux aeterna I thought again. She was the definition of a happy life herself. They were synonyms. Whenever you want to say “I want to live a happy life” you could just say “Regina”. When she didn’t have fangs.

“Missed me?” she asked in a giddy tone, almost jumping up and down on her feet.
“Very much, I thought you’ll never come back.” I said.

“I almost always keep my promises.” She said categorically.
“But you didn’t promise.” – I said with a hint of regret in my voice.

“My word is my promise. Always. Almost.” – She said this with a serious categorical voice. Maybe she did look like a vampire sometimes. Not that I had any clue what a vampire should look like. How was I to know such a thing? Even later on, Twilight – the movie – sure hadn’t helped in forming the right picture about a vampire. I was “disappoint” when it came out that she didn’t sparkle. I’m joking.

I didn’t waste any time. “My mom knows about vampires.” I said.

“How?” – She asked.

“I asked her about the necklace and she immediately checked my neck and told me it was expected.”

“So it’s true then…” – She said.

“What’s true?” – I was asking this in a somewhat angry tone. It seemed to me that everybody knew something that I didn’t. Something that I was supposed to know better than them. Something about MY necklace.

“Long story short – apparently the necklace you’re wearing marks you as a target.” – She said and then she added – “And your mother knows more than she’s telling you.”

“A tar… target for what?” – I didn’t want to know. Please. I retract my words from above.

“For becoming a vampire.” – She said flatly and sat on the bed, still smiling, making a sign with her index finger to come to her, just like nothing has happened, just like she didn’t just said what she said. I obeyed.
As soon as I was close enough, she had another case of a “schizophrenic” episode, she transformed. From the soft, gentle and giddy person I knew just seconds ago, she started doing more vampire like things.

For one, she was not smiling anymore, her eyes started getting red and dark. She swung herself and in an instant was above me, dominating me.

“No escape this time, ok?” She said smiling and then leaned over me, pausing a second over my mouth to see my reaction to what she said and, when she was pleased with my obedience, kissed me. I could feel her canines getting longer each second on my tongue and in my mouth. I scraped them teasingly and she moaned at each touch. Apparently it’s a slow process which takes more than a minute for them to be fully extended. Something else that movies taught me wrong, also they cannot be extended at will by any vampire, she could, but the majority younger ones who didn’t have enough practice, couldn’t. They need to be aroused, either touching them lightly on the tips, or sexual arousal. They also extended when she was angry or about to feed. I don’t really understand how exactly they extend, but I’m guessing it’s similar to the male genital organ or the nipples while we’re at it. We all know why they extend… primarily, but then again, they also extend whenever they feel like sometimes, with no apparent reason. Also, we can’t control them “down” but some of us can control them “up” with our minds. I don’t really fully understand how it worked for fangs, but it had to be something similar, the power of tought and a dash of arousal (be it sexual, anger, pleasure, the need to feed, or any other thing that aroused them). I kept thinking they would extend faster if you would combine all of the above. Angry, “in the mood” and hungry at the same time. That would be something to remember although I’m not sure about the feeding part, and indeed, combining diverse feelings like these, although rare, can extend them almost instantly, especially when you combine anger and hunger.

“No funny business.” I said.
She smiled with what I can recall being the most mischievous and provocative smile and I could see her fangs already fully extended, pushing down, making her almost unable to close her mouth and her eyes dark, deep black with a tint of red inside around the pupil, made for a view to remember and made the already shadowy room even more darker. Her face turned more white than it usually was and was by this point almost shining. The contrast with the deep black eyes was shattering. Her expression changed and she assumed an attack stance. She was about to strike, like a snake that she was, and I knew it. I wanted it.

Before allowing anything to happen I kissed her again and could feel her resisting, pushing me down. I put my hand to the back of her head and pushed it lightly to my shoulder, just two or three centimeters below the joint, offering it as sacrifice instead of my neck.

“Here.” I said – and, already in a position, without wasting a second more, she bit down hard.
I heard my flesh tearing apart. I saw her mouth opening wide and her jaws flexing. I felt her biting even harder. Goose bumps all over me then, and now, when I think about it.
I was aroused, sexually, I felt like exploding already. Somehow – this pain thing is related to sexuality. And this is no vampire thing, I’m pretty sure we’ve all heard or seen rough sex. Slaps, soda-masochism and all that. I’m by no means into such sort of kinky stuff, but I can relate.

I heard my heart pounding faster and faster, harder. I heard it in my ears. I felt pressure in the veins on my head, I felt my head pulsing. I felt my… everything pulsing. My whole body was convulsing, and twitching from the  pain and pleasure combined. I wanted what was happening and I wanted me inside her badly.

I heard blood flowing like you hear when you drink from a straw. I heard her swallowing and each swallow she took made me more and more aroused. I saw her neck moving and twitching from side to side trying to gulp in faster and faster. I heard her breathing harder and harder.

She released for less than a second and she bit again – harder this time. More violently. She was moaning and panting and swallowing as much as she could take in from me. By any definition, both me and her looked like we were already climaxing. She then took my shoulder with both her hands in a tight grip, she was convulsing, rubbing against me harder and harder.

All of a sudden she stopped breathing. Released really, really slowly. Licked the wounds which were still pushing blood out. Licked them again more slowly. Then, with her head faced downwards, without me seeing her eyes or fangs (I bet she was doing this on purpose, for my sake or whatever) she came up to my mouth slowly and kissed me.

The taste of my blood was in the same time disgusting and nectar. It wasn’t the first time I tasted it. Every time I had an accident in the kitchen with a knife or some other accessible wound I would put my mouth over it and start sucking. I mean who doesn’t? Others were doing it too but for me it was like instinct. I always liked it – warm, not watery but not oily either, not too thick. Deep dark red, never light red. Always deep dark almost black. Sweet – in a very subtle way, iron-copper like taste. The taste of a copper coin or the house key in your mouth. OK that’s weird.

I liked it and then again, I always found myself sucking on my accidental wounds more than necessary. At one time I remember I even thought about cutting myself on purpose on a finger, just to taste it again, after the wound that was accidental closed too fast. I never did it and just having that thought, way before meeting Regina, made me scared of my own mind. But we all have weird thoughts, don’t we? Don’t judge.

She kissed me easy at first but then harder and harder and before I knew it she was at it again – biting that is. Same spot. I didn’t mind. Not at that moment. I enjoyed it and enabled me to feel exactly what she felt. In some weird way we connected, when she was feeding off me I could almost feel her thoughts in my head, feel what she felt. I felt warm, full of life, I felt all mighty – giver of life.

We connected in such a way that you rarely encounter without such a thing – I often wonder if it’s even possible. Maybe, for soul mates, if that exists. We connected like two twins, thinking and feeling the same. Except she was in my eyes a bit of the evil twin. And let’s not go into incest.

Our hearts were beating in unison, our breaths were perfectly aligned and our bodies were moving in a perfectly timed dance.

This time when she released, she did it violently, pushed me with one hand up the headboard and growled at me. Her lips were arched up, snarling at me, crazy eyes, dark and blood swirling inside them. Fangs longer than I’ve seen them ever. Sharper than  needles at the tip, she snarled, literally snarled and hissed at me. And then, she talked. I was actually impressed she could speak, it was like seeing your cat talking with you.

Thisss  is who I am.” – She said. Fangs give you lisps honey.
“Sometimes.” – I added and smiled approvingly. Kissed her forehead.

Then she bowed her head down, I took her by the chin and pulled it back up. I kissed her lightly. As a supplement, it seemed to me I was stronger the following days, not weaker.

We fell asleep right there and then, in the four-cornered massive bed, covered in layers and layers of silk bed sheets which sadly were now bloody.
Before falling asleep she noticed:

“You’re not afraid of me anymore.” – She said, and then opened her mouth again to say something but I interrupted:
“I see who you are, and you’re not all that. You’re sometimes that. I don’t try to leave that aside and think of you just as a normal girl, I accept and love all of what you are. I don’t think picking sides is  a good idea. Ever.”

And with that she kissed me on my chest and we fell asleep.

Where Am I?

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