…as the phoenix was reborn, it wanted nothing else but fly away. [story part 19]
February 26, 2012 § 2 Comments
Before going into the post I just want to make a quick point here:
I had written in an earlier post about how Regina told me that there are hundreds of blood types, and I received about two e-mails telling me that’s bullshit – how could she know more than the whole human scientific world. and that was many years ago, but here is a piece of news written one day after my post, just in time.
Scientists discover two new blood-types. Here is the article in ScienceDaily.
Now on with the story.
And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.
– Andis Nin.
That day came for me sooner than expected.
That very night, was it.
That night had been a nightmare, and I truly believed that very night, my heart stopped, maybe just for a second. That counts as dead for me.
But I didn’t die. I prefer not to call it “saved” but “reborn”. Not physically, but mentally.
I don’t know what and how to tell you, but something clicked inside me that night. Inside my mind, inside my soul.
I had been shaken so hard, from my very core within, that it changed me entirely. It changed the way I saw the world, it changed the way I thought about the world.
The next day I woke up after sundown, thinking for a second that it’s the same night.
I had flashes of light in my eyes, during the night before, of street light poles flashing in my face, one after another, after another, and I realized I was in the back of a car seeing them as we drove past.
I remember yet even more screams and I remember Regina screaming in Russian at a guy that was driving.
Then I remember passing in and out of conscience, it was a blur but some things are pretty clear.
Like when Regina woke me up and started speaking in Latin. I knew exactly what words she was muttering. The exact same words that I need to accept, like some kind of spoken contract, before being turned.
I said no. I said it even before she was finished with it. She didn’t stop, kept going, and at the end asked me:
“Do you accept?”
“No…” I muttered.
I remember thinking that was rather ironic. The fact that her face at my answer could have easily meant she would kill me right there and then, if it wasn’t the situation I was in. The irony being she was trying to save me, but my answer prompted her to end me.
“If you don’t figure out what your place in the world is, you will soon not have a place in the world at all.” Regina said. And of course, that meant I would die that night if I didn’t accept.
I remember telling myself sooner that year, that I had stopped fighting with my inner demons, that I was on their side now. But it was all lies. I wasn’t prepared to make this choice under this pressure. Even faced with this, death at my doorstep, I was more stubborn than ever.
I would have said yes, maybe, in any other circumstance but this.
“No…” I muttered again. And before letting her explode, I added:
“What is it?”
“What is what?!” She replied quickly, angry at me nonetheless.
I turned my head from one side to the other trying to muster more strength.
I was on a table, in some sort of bar, and I could still hear music somewhere behind me. Dear god I hoped nobody was dancing behind me, while I prepared to meet death.
“What is it that keeps you going, as a vampire…?” I finally explained. What I meant was actually what was the fuel that pumped in her veins, metaphorically, that kept her living, smiling, interested in the world, lively and happy. The very reason to live, the fabric of life itself. That magic thing which gets you through life, no matter how hard it sometimes is. The mojo. The elixir of happiness. Call it however you want, I’m sure there are thousands of way of putting it. But she put it… rather… perfect. On the spot. Like always.
“The beauty of being a vampire?” She replied as a rhetorical question, and then, answering herself, she continued:
“The beauty of being a vampire? The most important thing for me?
It is not eternal life,
it is not power,
it is not invulnerability to any sickness.
it is something much simpler, but that more important.
it is the fact that we get to choose who we’re going to be, everyday.”
How do I remember this? I would remember it at any given hour of the night, like a prayer if you wish. Because it was the perfect answer, Regina, of course, rarely offered any other kind.
It was also the answer that nearly crossed that bridge I was talking about in the first posts about. The bridge that only goes one way, towards eternal life… and others.
I pondered on that for as much as I could, but alas, it came again:
“You will die soon.” And I believed her. I was terrified, but I didn’t want to accept what was happening.
Which were the five stages of death again? Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. I was now in denial, but I didn’t really have time to go through all of them, so I decided, unconsciously, to skip the three and just get it done with. Go straight to acceptance, like a magic dice that tells you to skip three spots at a board game.
I tried looking at myself and noticed my arms were moving and then in a flash I remember how my shoulders were just dislocated, not broken, and she put them back by pushing me really hard against the table until they popped, clicked and creaked. Excruciating pain, so intense I would have rather had my arms broken instead, maybe that would be less painful.
The bites were also almost gone, smeared with blood, but almost gone. Regina closed whatever she could to stop me from losing blood so fast.
But my spleen was… well, it was ripped in half and that wouldn’t heal. There was only so much she could do.
I didn’t understand at the time who exactly set these limits, but apparently the blood flow was just, well, too high.
“Hospital…” I finally said after seeing myself in yet another pool of blood I had made. At least I wasn’t puking anymore, and I was well on my way towards acceptance. I was on the brink of giving up. My heart was already skipping every two or three beats, like an old engine trying really hard not to stall.
“They can’t do anything. Too late for that!” Regina said and then added “We could just pray, maybe that would be more fruitful.” That was sarcasm coming out of her mouth. She had it, lots of it actually.
She was against religion, but also careful about the approach towards science. Science gives us the power, but doesn’t tell us how to use that power she once said. I think she was rather referring to nukes back then, not hospitals.
She looked at me with a last inquiring look, as in asking me with both meanings of the word “asking”, for a final time, to accept.
I said, once again, “No…”.
And then, between my last breathes I would ever take, which were becoming farther and farther apart from one another, eyes closed in between, I saw Regina perform a miracle.
Something, that I later learned, she had never tried before. She risked her own more than five hundred years of existence, to save a stubborn child. To save my ass. I would have died happy even if what she did that night wouldn’t have worked.
How much more kindness and sacrifice would you want from a being that the world considers a monster? This alone, gave her forgiveness from me, god, and whoever else might be listening in, for all that she did over the centuries, that night and for what she did to Blanche that night when I told her I could forgive her, depending on whether she could redeem herself. She did redeem herself, for those and more to come.
She literally slashed her wrist almost to the bone with her mouth and made with her knife on my wound a kind of cross but not really, she crested the wound actually, and then she stuck her hand inside me. I literally felt her hand go under my ribs, grabbing something. I felt my own heart trying to make room for whatever that was. I was literally touched on the heart as she passed by. Physically. That DOES NOT happen in science fiction movies, that doesn’t happen in books, that didn’t happen not even in the mother of all miracle books, the fucking bible. She stood like that for what seemed hours, but was merely minutes, and when that didn’t seem to be working, she ripped her throat out on a side, made Nikita hold my wound open and poured herself inside me. I can’t describe it better, I could see a river of her blood dripping inside me, straight inside the wound which by now was the size of a fist. This is what I called a blood transfusion.
But wait – this would turn me!
“Regina, this will turn me! NO!” She looked at me and just slapped me. Soon after that, I fainted or fell asleep, one or the other.
The next morning (after sundown, so night) I woke up in the hotel, in the bed, full of blood but alive. I tried getting up which proved rather an adventure. My hands, shoulders and bites were all good and healed, although I had a slight ache in both my shoulders.
But my left side… on my abdomen, just above the first two ribs on the bottom. Well that was another story. I was healed alright, but the scar was flaming hot, red, still pulsing and looking about to burst. It was still healing under my very own eyes. It was beautiful. It still is. I have a kind of weird… cross on my abdomen. Ironic. Wasn’t sure what was going on inside though, but it felt ok-ish.
I don’t know how and what she did exactly, but she pulled it off. Hell, I didn’t even knew until years later, that my spleen was intact. I was pretty sure she took it out that night.
Regina was nowhere to be seen.
Then I remembered what she had done.
Shit – I turned. I don’t feel different. What’s happening?
I opened the windows trying to look at the sun see if I burn, then I remembered again. Man, those movies were powerful. I still expected vampires to catch fire in sunlight, even though I was now with one almost everyday, and she didn’t.
Still, fangs. Check, nothing. Of course not.
Mirror, I went to take a look at myself, I was pale as a sheet of paper, I was dizzy, nausea and still shivering cold.
I was either a vampire or so anemic that I shouldn’t even be able to open my eyes, not even mentioning getting up.
I instantly cut myself with a scissor, that desperate I was, and stuck my finger in my mouth.
Still human. But how?
I then thought again about Regina. Where was she. Oh god, I remembered how she drained herself completely.
I didn’t knew what to do. Where to… go?
I went in the bathroom to try to clean myself up and leave the hotel for Nikita, although I had no clue where that was.
When I entered the bathroom, there she was.
Regina, in the bathtub, three inches of blood on the bathtub bottom. Enough for a human being to function with.
She looked at me, tried to smile and then started puking again. Blood.
She was puking blood, and she looked horrible. She could barely hold her head up.
“Regina! What’s happening ?!? Why ?? What can I do ??” I jumped towards her, trying to hold her head up, help her somehow.
“Feed… I need to feed…” She replied.
“But you’re already throwing it out!” I instantly replied.
“It’s mine ! It’s MINE !” I thought she was delirious (Gollum came to mind…), but then I remembered last night, put two and two together in what took me, shamefully, more than it should have, and realized that Regina stuck all of her into me, then sucked it all out to comply with my refusal of not turning. Never done before by her apparently, or rarely by anyone else. It meant death in most of the cases for a vampire. Also, I was pretty surprised it worked for me. By my understanding, I got her blood, healed, then all out again and left on the brink of death with maybe 20% of my juice still in? That seemed way over my limits of understanding biology and started going into “this is sorcery!” field.
Blood poisoning, karma, call it as you want, but you can’t drink all of your own blood and walk around with it. That would be something though, wouldn’t it? That was Regina right now. Poisoned by her own body.
I was perfectly aware I was in no condition to feed her, yet, I didn’t care, once again, and put my neck on her lips.
“NO! Go away! Not you! NO! THIS IS BECAUSE OF YOU!” She blurted out, although with less intensity (obviously) than what she would usually use.
What to do?
Well, believe me or not – I called room service.
What to order? Food? No. Takes too long.
Something to drink – but we have everything here!
Champagne! We don’t have that.
Dial room service – Russian speaking dude answers.
English with a lot of cracks, but understood my message.
Champagne, to me, five minutes ago!
I thought then: Look at myself, standing here, ordering Champagne, to celebrate maybe?
Celebrate what? My survival or Regina’s imminent death?
Because, however you would look at it, I had managed to bring Regina on the brink of death in a few short months. Something that nobody managed to do (I guess) in over five centuries. All because of a necklace.
In no time, room service was there.
“Take it to the bathroom.” I said without even looking at the man who delivered it. Without hello. I only hoped I would get to tip him (funny right? here’s ten euros for your mojo). I couldn’t stand the idea of someone dying because of me.
Not him, not a human being who, by the looks, looked innocent enough.
Regina was, of course, by any means, a killer with who deserved that punishment. For some, it was a blessing if you ask me, but she also
was a philanthropist with those who need not die.
Which is very, very rare in the kinship.
There are others like her of course, but they are like a fistful of pepper, thrown in a bucket of salt.
As soon as the room service guy went inside the bathroom, I stepped behind him and closed the door.
I didn’t want to hear what was going to happen next. But I did.
Large thuds, screams, growls, glass breaking.
Seconds later she stepped outside the bathroom. Blood smeared all over her, although mostly hers. I was sure she was not in the position to let a single drop of good blood go to waste. And she didn’t.
“Is he dead?” I asked.
“He’ll live.” She replied. I was relieved.
“We need to leave.” She added and with a swift move she closed in on me and put her left hand behind my back, her right hand on my wound. Kissing me and checking for the wound in the same time. She seemed pleased.
After she released I also took her wrists and looked at her neck to see how she was. What was I expecting? There was nothing there anymore.
She wasn’t smiling anymore. She was angry. Not at what happened, not for what she might have learned from those… assassins of mine, but at me. I had declined being turned, and we both knew that was a problem.
I couldn’t remain like this forever – even she had to obey the Codex at some point. But for now, she let it slide.
Before I even managed to wash my face she had showered, got dressed and taken on her shoes. I was either slow or she was too fast.
“Regina… what you did last night… you do realize that is nothing short but of a miracle?” I added. I was expressing my thoughts out loud.
“But at what cost?” She replied, almost hissing at me.
“I am no angel.” She added. I didn’t understand until later on what she had meant.
“Yes, but you risked it all… to save me.” I replied.
She said nothing, but I knew what she was thinking.
One does not discover new lands without consenting to lose sight of the shore for a very long time.
– Andre Gide
And that was what she did now, but also five centuries ago, when she decided to leave the shore and join the world which she was now a part of. To discover it, you had to leave your land, your life, your comfort and venture into the unknown. But that is a story to be told another time.
We quickly left the room and on our way downstairs, sure enough, a ‘gang’ of three kinship members, men, were going up, bowing their head to Regina very, very subtle as we passed one another. I had assumed they were the cleaning crew. I still don’t know how Regina managed to send for anything she needed without using any means of communication. She must have some sort of… I gave up on trying to find out long ago.
In no time, we were shiny, in the airport, headed for France.
Russia, Moscow (SVO) – France, Le Mans (LME) the tickets read. Again handed by someone inside the airport, already bought and paid for. I started to think this was a charter flight, planned in advanced, it looked like one, but it didn’t feel like one.
As the plane started shaking when taking off, I was once again remembered I’m still human. My left side hurt at each move, each shake.
But I was alive, and I was headed for France, with a few hours to spare, used to put some order in my thoughts.
I opened my laptop and started putting everything down, while it was still fresh, although at the moment, that was the last thing I wanted to do. Remember everything again.
*** Stop asking for photos with Regina. That wouldn’t just be useless for this story, but also impossible. You must imagine how preposterous such a request is, in case you read the story, you must understand.
I can, however, provide other photos, in private. But nothing that cannot be faked or is easily available on the net. I can provide, for example, photos with my scars, taken years later.
Some have asked: Well, if you can’t post a photo with her, then maybe post a photo with a famous actress or someone who looks like her. So we can form an image.
My response on that is: shame on you and fine, I will, as soon as I find something appropriate. I can’t stress this enough, she’s hard to match.
both sides of the same coin [story part 10]
January 23, 2012 § Leave a comment
Really want to apologize for using the image on the right but that really is hands down the best representation of the snarl I had so many times in my face. It sent shivers down my spine just thinking about it and remembering what comes next. It’s a snake bite and a black panther snarl. The mouth is open to such an extent that you rarely see, however, the fangs are completely wrong, thus, the image on the left which I found recently is a perfect representation of the fangs. Now I don’t know how are these two possible to be guessed, but I’m thinking trial and error. Those fangs are truly a match for Regina’s. Long, thin and curved. Snake speed and panther strength in the same bite. Combine that mouth with the snarl on the right and there you have it. It is not pretty – nature gave us instincts to fear that – run and hide, however, seeing it shakes you down and immobilizes you on the spot. Your power leaves you and all you can do is watch, gasp and hope for the best. Know this, seeing a black panther 2 centimeters from your face with fangs fully extended WILL NOT prompt you to run. You will not turn brave. This is not the same with watching it on Discovery thinking that you could run. You will stop breathing just so you’ll be sure it won’t upset the panther. You will not even look it into the eyes of the animal. You will just stay there, frozen, feeling its breath on you and seeing the fangs, hoping for the best. You stop thinking. Your body stops working. You get used to it, barely. But how many people faced an angry black panther 2cm from their face and lived to tell? Picture yourself in that position, see if I’m wrong.
The last post that I had needs a closing:
It was the 28th of December and I had forgotten to write in my journal anything else about that night – maybe made myself not to – for almost a week. That night of December and the following days were perhaps the start of my saga, on how I started to change, mentally, on how I was forming an idea of what’s around me and started making heads and tails of the situation. Up until that point it was like I was living in a romantic story – maybe now brainwashed by too many romantic movies – and maybe because my stupid mistake of watching Twilight later on.
Speaking of Twilight – here’s a fun fact: Later on, when it was released, Twilight had such a low income in Romania and was so hated that people actually considered riots. For real. We hated the damn thing. Mainly because they don’t sparkle, and other things too. You have to understand, vampires are feared in Romania and the traditions and folklore is so deeply tied to our culture that it’s hard at times to distinguish between myth and tradition. For example, old people in secluded villages (and this actually was the case with my grandmother which passed a few years before this) stay over night with the body of the deceased. It is not left behind not even for a second. They do this because they fear he’s not really dead and might come back – or someone might come for him. This especially, was tied to what I had just witnessed in the church, on how both of them, the human and the vampire, fell down to the ground, unconscious for hours – playing dead for all I know. It made me wonder if the old really did know something we didn’t. Most just considered them crazy, but then again, nobody ever opposes “staying with the body” because… like I said: It’s tradition. I had to put and end to my doubts once and for all.
You might think this is crazy, but it’s just because you’re used to a certain lifestyle, but I assure you, things are different in Transylvania, for example, just a year before these events were unfolding in front of me, some hundred miles away a body was exhumed by villagers and his family and proceeded to stake and burn his heart. It was in the news, here. Apparently the dude seemed dead and then clawed himself out of the grave and started biting into people from the village and acting like everything was normal. He was confused and pale and the villagers decided he’s a vampire and went back to exhume him, which they did. The part where he got out of his grave and why he went back is still fuzzy. My guess it was just mass hysteria, by what I know now, but ask anyone else in a hundred mile radius around that town and you will get the same response: it was a moroi – which is a young vampire – inferior rang – easily killed – confused at the beginning and all that. More on it in a later post.
I just needed to get this out so you know where we stand with things in vampire country. Transylvania is not known as vampire territory for nothing. Shit goes down. Seriously.
More on this also in a later post.
4th of January, 2005 – 13:00
I wanted to post the exact transcript from my diary but decided it’s not detailed enough. I will however do that in a following post with another entry which is more than enough but for now here is what happened next:
It was yet another cold day but clear blue skies were covering the horizon from east to west with no clouds in sight. We call it “sun with teeth” in Transylvania, with no relation to vampires. We call it that because it is deceitful, and “it bites your ass” – it tricks you thinking it’s warm outside, but when you do go out, you realize it’s -15 again. This was the case.
I layered up a bunch of clothes on me feeling pretty sure it’s not warm outside and took an old untreated raw brown leather jacket on top – which was back in style apparently – and called for a cab. I was going to meet Sophia and Viktor – felt bad that Blanche won’t be there, she was gone for the winter holiday in Austria for skiing and whatnot with her parents. She loved skiing.
I hadn’t seen Regina “Engel” (which was how she named herself apparently, funny because Engel means Angel in German, even funnier because of her first name, which together with her last name makes a weird combination that yields “The Queen of Angels” – kitsch if you ask me, but what do I know, right?) anyway, I hadn’t seen her since the night of the church (28th of December previous year) – she left me at the side of that church as soon as our talk was over and with one look from left to right, she straightened her body, tilted her chin up and announced flatly: “I have to attend some duties now.” – and poof she was gone. I remember I really wanted her to stop doing that.
I was really decided on telling my friends about her, even if I wasn’t sure I’m ever going to see her again. I was pretty confident they would support me and trust me enough. On the ride to the Concordia cafe, the cab driver tried to make some small talk, asked me about how I spent New Year and murmured something about his youth and how he was “still partying if he was me.”
I had spent New Year with family. It was a rather awkward gathering and all we talked about was the weather and how they all liked Regina, even if she was a vampire – continuing to make fun of me of how from all the girls I picked someone who likes to bite me. We were a kind of liberal family, sex was an open subject even though I was really young – however my mother wasn’t that amused – she had seen the bite marks, and met her personally. Father and brother didn’t met her but liked her anyway already. I tried defending her but then I figured she should do it herself – where was she? I was angry she wasn’t here.
Arriving to the cafe, my best friend Viktor was already there – he stood up, shook my hand and hugged me (no, it’s no weird, we’re that good friends) then shortly Sophia came in – with apologies blaming the weather for the delay. It didn’t take long for our coffee to be there also, just like we wanted it. We didn’t even order. It felt good to be known and be a regular in a place you could call a second home.
Oh, the coffee… it had her name. They should change it from Regina to Concordia, the name of the coffee, or to something else. I hated it now. You have to understand, Regina is a pretty common name for everything in Romania. From a coffee to a hotel room, to a corner shop and mostly used as a girl first name. It also means “the queen” in Romanian. Actually that’s the only word for “the queen”: regina.
Whatever I did my mind kept creeping back to her: not because I was in love – hell I didn’t knew what I was feeling, and it didn’t really matter for me. This wasn’t Twilight nor Vampire Diaries, and I was not a girl. In a way I was more sexually attracted rather than emotionally, which is understandable. In any case, as soon as we started sipping our coffee and after going the usual chat subjects, like how was your New Year and all that, I jumped right in:
“Guys, remember Regina?” I said, looking down at my coffee like I was trying to guess in it.
“Yeah, how is she? Where is she?” – Viktor said enthusiastically. Oh man he already blushed.
“I don’t know, but that’s not the point. I…” and I trailed off. Did I really need to do this?
“Maybe she went back to Vienna to be with her family.” – Sophia said, and then added “Maybe she can hook up with Blanche, she’s not that far from Vienna also!”
“Yeah, see, that’s what I need to talk with you. I’d rather her not meet up with any of you.” I said flatly, with a flair of commanding tone in my voice.
“Why not? Did you break up? We didn’t really talk about her because we didn’t really saw you that much so we’re not actually sure if you… but we did speculate.” Sophia said again. Man I wished she’d just shut up so I can get it out already. It was choking me. It was like asking a girl out for the first time in my life. That feeling.
“Listen. Regina is… special. She’s not human.”
Laughter. Of course they would laugh. I should have figured.
“Oh come on, don’t be mean.” Viktor said. Was he trying to defend her? I hoped not.
“No, listen – I’m not mad at her and we didn’t break up, and that’s not a metaphor.” I said.
“She really isn’t human… well she is… but she’s not really…” – By this point I remember how both of them were looking at each other, then at me, then at each other again… and then raised eyebrows, both of them. Towards me.
Sophia with her blonde silky smooth hair had seemed more interested than Viktor, which by now was feeling rather irritated. I guess deep down he wanted to punch me already for talking bad about Regina. For god’s sake I thought, he only met her once.
As confused as they were, I raised my hands in the air like a “Fine! Fine!” gesture and then gestured them with a flick of my hand to come closer. They both leaned towards and above the table, carefully pushing the lonely fake rose on the table towards a side, and by now we were all so close we were actually touching each other’s foreheads.
“Regina is a vampire.” I whispered.
They both stood there for a few years, for that’s what it seemed like to me, and then backed up still looking at me with eyes wide open.
“You’re messing with us right?” Viktor said, and before me trying to explain he continued “Listen man, you’re my friend, if you broke up just tell me you don’t want me to go after her and I won’t. You don’t have to make bullshit up.”
Sophia was still looking at me and to my amazement – because she was the shyest of us all – and the most unlikely to have followup questions to anything that came up, ever – she said: “Did she… bite you?” – felt like she barely got it out but she did.
“Yes she did. Here…” I said that as I touched my shoulder. I decided not to tell them about the other unwanted bite I got as a present from someone else.
And then she started laughing maniacally. She was playing me. Viktor too. They stood up and started getting their clothes on. I couldn’t believe it – and it still makes me angry to this day – that they were ready to ditch me just like that, for saying something like that.
“Man, grow up.” Viktor had said to me and ushered Sophia in front of him with a hand on her lower back. Sophia didn’t even look at me as they left.
I had an eerily feeling this will be the case most of the time from now on – I never wanted to try and tell someone again something like that. I was damn determined not too. What did I had to gain anyway?
Again I was reminded that this was no romance novel – friends didn’t jump in for my help and supported me in my quest for true love or happiness or whatever I was after – they felt creeped out and offended – both because they felt they didn’t know me anymore for talking like that – and they knew I was serious, otherwise they would have taken it as a joke and moved on – and offended for the fact that they thought I thought they are so naive that they would actually buy that. I can’t blame them, I would feel the same way.
I was alone in this and maybe it was better. Vampire secrecy made much more sense day by day – of course nobody knows about them – they all seem to enjoy stories, but when something actually gets serious they dismiss it, make fun of it and throw it away as being nonsense. And can you blame that with all the movies popping up like mushrooms after the rain lately? Movies that make vampires sparkle. Sorry. I just can’t hate on it enough.
Again I want to remind you – this doesn’t feel like reading a book because it isn’t – it has personal opinions, it’s a story mixed with my thoughts about it and you should treat it as such. If you expect a children’s story with “what’s next, what’s next” you won’t get it. You have to fish it out from what I’m saying. Some parts (like the last posts) are more like that, some aren’t.
That very same night I decided, against my own stupidity and my curiosity (heh, curiosity killed the cat) to have a walk up to the Old Church, make another breaking and entering inside it and check out the crypt.
How crazy that was? I know. But I couldn’t be scared enough of some bones, not after what I witnessed in that church anyway. So I went. I took the stairs that not long ago nearly brought me to meeting death, but at half of the stairs, a small path sticks out to the right. It’s a man-made path, the kind that forms by itself by people regularly walking through there. It goes right around the base of the citadel wall and through the forest and if you keep going forward, you finally arrive to the half of the road where it forks and which leads up to the hill – where the church is. I took that road and went through there: I decided to go on this path because I figured there will be nobody to see me going through here, but there might be people in the citadel, which I had to pass if I would have went the normal way.
In any case, I was at the church door in no time and with a feeling of “just go back and forget about it” I pushed the massive wooden doors and to my amazement – they had actually opened. Apparently someone didn’t lock it – or maybe nobody was here for the past week anyway since the “events” unfolded, with Christmas and all I figured that would be plausible. I swallowed my breath.
I went inside and approached the altar slowly, at the base of which was a small rock hatch. The kind that is part of the floor – but it has an iron ring attached to it and with enough force you can pull it up and descend into the crypt.
I looked around with the flashlight, there was no sign of blood, corpses or such. No vampire and no blonde girl. They were gone. I felt relieved and scared in the same time.
With no time to waste – I felt like a burglar – and by all means, I was. I grabbed the iron ring and start pulling on it as hard as I could. Sure enough the square rock hatch in the floor moved – it was thinner than the rest and was actually lighter than I had imagined. I kept pulling and then shoved it aside. I made sure the flashlight is still powerful by looking at it – right before going into darkness. That couldn’t have been such a smart move. I wouldn’t want it to go out while I’m down there, and I started descending.
This crypt is rather small. It’s just a 20 meter tunnel, with an arched ceiling, and it’s very narrow, dark and damp. On each side, on three rows, there are skeletons, and I shit you not, if you are a big guy by any chance, your clothes are gonna touch the top of their heads as you walk by them. They [the makeshift tombs, because they really seem temporary] have no doors or anything, they are just deposited skeletons, each in their own little spot.
In total I would guess there are about 120. It seemed to me that there were about 20 on each row, and with three rows on each side, that makes a total of 120 skeletons. Some were missing, so might be a bit less. However, I wasn’t in the mood of counting dead people.
I was actually searching for the dead vampires. I had a really terrible itch in my ass (metaphorically speaking) in knowing what happens with them after they die. Blade had taught me they go puff in flames, other movies had taught me they turn into pink goo, or they explode, or they burn in flames, or they turn into fine ash and so, so many more.
At the base of the crypt, two heads were sticking out more than they should be – they seemed not to ‘fit’ into the landscape. Different color. I immediately went there and I put the light on them – and there they were – two bodies, heads detached but somehow put over the body to seem ‘normal’ were lying there, but they were in such a state that you would think they were dead for at least 5 years. They were literally almost pure bone, except the tissue that was still there which was brown to black. It seemed to me like the last step of decomposition. There was no smell, I remember I had my hand over my mouth and nose but then put it down because I didn’t seem to smell anything.
By all means – they looked exactly like the other bodies and I was rather sure that in a matter of another two or three days nobody could tell they weren’t a part of this crypt – not without forensics at least. For me this was another debunked myth. Vampires died just like humans, if you cut their head off that is, but they seemed to decompose much faster. I wondered if staking them would make them burn.
I didn’t really spend more time in there – I was satisfied with what I’ve seen and I started going towards the exit of the crypt, happy that nothing came to bite me from behind. I had ‘that feeling’ which we all know. The one you feel there’s someone behind you when you walk down a shady street in the night.
As soon as I got to the entrance of the crypt and looked up towards the exit I saw a familiar face.
“Hello.” Regina said.
“Hi.” – I acted like I was just greeting her in the park. Nothing to see here, move along.
“Nous sentir ce soir curieux?” – She said with an air of aristocracy and superiority – like a true French would, however, her French could be better I thought.
“Oui.” I said and that was it for me with French. I switched to native tongue.
“Did you stalk me all this time?” I asked her, with a tone of “I like it” and not with a tone of “How dare you!”.
“Not really… just tonight. I wanted to visit you but you crept out at midnight and I was really feeling anxious to see what you were up to.” She said smiling.
“Are you satisfied with what you found?” She continued.
“As a matter of fact yes I am, I wouldn’t have come here if you would explain better – you know I’m curious – plus this doesn’t answer my question anyway.” – I was feeling rather irritated now, seeing her smile on and on and making me feel like a child.
“What is your question then?” Regina said imitating me in my “irritation”. That actually softened me. But she was still playing.
“How do you… kill a vampire?” I said, instantly feeling nervous, scared and ashamed for what I just asked. Mother of god I just realized I’ve asked the oldest vampire how to go about killing her.
“Am I that much of a bother that you already consider taking my life darling?” She said this with a tone of… jealousy? I couldn’t really tell at the time, but much later I figured out that expression of hers also. It was something like “I’m keeping the game up and making myself seem comfortable, but I’m not pleased with the position I’m in.” – I know it’s much to say about someone from an expression, but think of a false smile. That should paint a good picture for you.
Then she started:
“I told you to get your mind off movies and books. We don’t have our own little secret society where we meet and discuss evil plans. We’re not that different from you, we live in the same world, obey the same laws, well, more or less, and we try to be the same. By all means, we’re rather more alike that different.”
She was furious. Which was rather interesting, seeing how a vampire, the queen of them for that matter, was trying to prove a point: that she’s more human than she is a vampire. That really didn’t hold, no matter what she said. Her big knife and killer instincts a week before would make a strong counter-argument in my head.
“You already saw me walking freely in the sun. What else do you what?” She asked.
“That doesn’t answer my question for what I came here tonight. I’m not asking this for use against you, but I don’t want to be in a position of being attacked again and not knowing what to do.” I said feeling proud of my answer.
“You really think that you could kill me, or any vampire for that matter, if you knew how?” She said. She was actually waiting for an answer, it wasn’t a question to defy me, it wasn’t a rhetoric question.
“Yes I do, so if you please…” and I trailed off.
“Fine. But just so you know: this is the most well guarded secret of them all. Only the fact that you know what I am could get you killed, but it doesn’t because I would have to kill you myself, the others won’t dare.”
“I understand.” I said.
“We die like you. Just harder.” She said and I had a feeling that was it.
“What does that mean? Explain. Details.”
She didn’t want to go on, but I pushed and pushed and pushed and without realizing I made her angry. Really angry.
With one gust of wind I felt her hand on my neck, just the way she had done to the vampire a week before, she was hissing at me, fangs started coming out, I could actually see them elongating, and her eyes now looked like a cup of water in which you poured black ink into. They were swirling inside with blackness and were getting darker and bloodier by the second. This was her transforming into what I revered, worshiped and was scared of in the same time. The fact that I was out of air didn’t help.
She raised her hand as easily as you pick up a kitten, up in the air, with me in it, and slammed me to the left column of the church. Within a second her face was almost stuck to mine. Her nose was poking into mine, her eyes drilled holes in my very own eyes and I could feel her breath on my lips. I hoped she would kiss me.
Once again her fangs dug deep into my throat – I was now her own endless blood bag which just replenished itself over and over – I felt a lot of pain this time – burning sensations like you’ve never felt before. You feel it deep inside your whole body, you feel your eyes burning and your mind melting. The pain in the neck is so great that you stop breathing or swallowing. You cannot move, not because you’re compelled or something, but because it’s so much pain to even think about moving that you give up instantly, before even thinking. You do not breathe. You sit there and hope you will not die. It traumatizes you every time it happens, but it doesn’t hurt every time. It seemed to me it only hurts if the one biting is angry and I wondered if you can control the pain – as in if she could intentionally make it hurt or not.
She didn’t drink – she just bit me, and then released, pulling me with her and then slamming me again in the column.
Her mouth full of my own blood and eyes deep black by now with the rest of them so red they were almost bleeding themselves, countless veins pushed to extreme – it looked like my blood – I really hoped that wasn’t the case.
She came close to me once again, just like before she bit me and said: “I will die on my own terms. You can’t kill anyone, but if you really must know. We die just like you.”
I gave up on asking her what does that mean – I didn’t want to go through all that again, but I didn’t have to because she continued:
“You can cut off my head and I’ll die. Fire can kill me but only if it’s strong and lasts long enough, otherwise I’ll heal through it. Stabbing or shooting me doesn’t work because I heal through it, not because I’m some creature of hell.”
I took a large breath of air – she studied my face and then to my amazement once again she continued:
“I own my eternity to my power of healing. That is why I cannot die. Overwhelm it and you can kill me.” She looked at me once again, trying to figure out if I’m satisfied. This was somewhat payment for what she just did to me. I accepted the payment.
“How about stakes?” – I asked.
“Wood? That’s a fabrication. Our heart beats just like yours, and it is damaged by wood or metal alike. However, if the stake is pulled out, we heal through it and do not die. It continues beating on, and on, and on, and on…” and I had to stop her before saying that again.
I was satisfied. More than satisfied. I could now paint a more accurate picture of what I’m dealing with, in my head. However, there was much more that I didn’t know, and the worst part was that I didn’t know what I didn’t know, if that makes sense. At least I knew that vampires do die by stopping their heart long enough – that is – leaving the stake in there for a couple of days, until decomposition sets in and then you can safely pull it out without risking the heart starting to beat again.
I was still fuzzy on the details – like drowning. Or limbs, did they grow back? Man what was I thinking. Just a month ago I was worried about how my hair looked and now – oh totally different set of problems – out of this world.
This is a long post but I can’t stop it here, have to get to the end otherwise it’s like saying a joke into two different parts, one today and the other tomorrow.
After saying that, I saw her biting her lip, piercing it slowly, as slowly as possible: it was intended for me to see it. I was actually aroused by this – what’s wrong with me I thought – and then I saw her blood.
She bent over and kissed my neck where she bit me and just like that, I could actually hear and feel my wounds closing in. I didn’t know whether I should thank her or get the hell away from her. I didn’t say anything. I just wanted to bottle the damn thing and keep a steady supply with me, wondered if that worked anyway.
I remember I actually wanted to make a joke or tell her something about the crypt below – but before I could even open my mouth, the doors of the church were closed shut – as by a gust of a really strong wind, because they were themselves really big heavy doors and by the time I turned to look at Regina with a “what’s going on?” look, she was already in her defense/attack stance. She had a really straight back, head tilted upwards, but her knees were bent pretty much and her hands were extended to each side for a bit, with her marvelous golden knife held in a not so tight grip in her left arm. She had her fangs fully extended and was scanning the place with quick glances from one corner to the other.
She stood perfectly still and for a moment it seemed to me she’s not even breathing anymore. She was a real statue with eyes that moved. Needles to remind you, this church was pitch black except my flashlight and the moon which was shining exactly on the altar, engulfing the whole place where we stood, through a window. The rest of the church was uncharted territory tonight.
I was looking at her and really taking in every single detail – I thought this was a great pose for a photo, or a painting – or a really good sketch. I really wanted to remember every single detail so I can draw something later – too bad I can’t draw, haven’t figured that out at the time.
As I was watching her NOT MOVE she turned her head in a really quick glance upwards towards the top left corner (opposite one) of the church. She fixated on something, and sure enough, something moved. For me, it was like she noticed it before it even moved – that wasn’t possible now – was it?
Something was in the church with us – something that was defying Regina! That was not good – anything that fast – and anything defying its queen must be either stronger and faster – or crazy. I wondered if vampires can be crazy. Then I pictured a whole new set of ideas in my head.
Werewolves – SHIT – I thought – What if Underworld (the movie) was right and the vampires actually had a war going on with the werewolves? No way.
My imagination, thanks to Hollywood, was too rich. I often wondered what else I didn’t know about, after I had found out about Regina, but I wasn’t prepared to accept werewolves, not in a million years.
And I was right.
- Vampire History (socyberty.com)
- George Takei Jokes About The Twilight Saga: It’s SO Bad! (thehollywoodgossip.com)
on dracula [story introduction]
December 28, 2011 § 2 Comments
I’ve seen a bunch of “Dracula tours” online, websites trying to sell visits to people who have no idea that those places they are going to visit have no connection to Dracula. For example, the castle marketed as “Dracula’s Castle” has nothing to do with him, he has never been there. I’m talking about the Bran castle. Even WordPress and Google give me suggestions and maps to this castle when I mention Dracula’s Castle, which is retarded, and that’s how it remains in the general knowledge, which is just proof that things you know might not actually be that way. They are in fact, influenced and changed, but hold a seed of truth, the seed here being, that Dracula’s Castle does exist, only not the one Google or you think.
Dracula was born in Sighisoara, then lived in two castles, one in “Targoviste”, a town which used to be the capital of Romania back then, and another castle in which he lived as a ruler, called “Poenari Castle” – his seat.
More on Dracula: He was loved, worshiped and adored by the Romanian people. He was a very, very, very charismatic character, with a POWERFUL way of compelling people, he had deep dark eyes, big with teeth and long, dark, curly hair. Does this sound familiar?
Why was he loved? He was considered a very successful ruler, although cruel, because he managed to keep the muslim turks out of Europe. Romania was back then the only barrier left standing between the Ottoman Empire and the Habsburg Empire (German Empire). If Romania was to fall then, well – you never know. But it didn’t. He managed to keep the Turks at bay. They always wanted Europe back then, and he successfully managed to drive them back, and keep them there. As such, Romanian people remember him for being the man who kept the muslims out of Europe, out of Romania.
Dracula had no religion – people in Romania or books will be quick to tell you that he was either Roman Catholic, or Orthodox or some other form of Christian but he wasn’t. He didn’t go into battle with a cross above his head, he didn’t have a cross around his neck. He was an atheist in a country which was deeply religious back then.
See all the pieces? He drank blood, he hated crosses, he was charismatic and managed to influence people with ease…. The “myth” is forming here. Nevertheless, Romanians these days do not consider him to have been a vampire. He was a simple man.
However, he was supposedly tied with silver before being buried in a crypt, in a marble coffin with a big cross on it, under (literally under) a monastery, which is on an island in the middle of a lake. An inhabited monastery, with monks that apparently are the real deal… Makes you wonder doesn’t it?
And this is real – verifiable – if you want to confirm all of this beyond any shadow of doubt, all you have to do is go visit the damn place.
Now something more interesting: Did you ever wonder – “If vampires existed then how come we’ve never seen them or heard of them?”
Well think about that – if they would want to stay hidden, even with today’s media, do you really think they would have the power to do so? After all, they had centuries to put themselves into the most influential positions.
What I’m about to say does not imply anything, by all means, no.
Prince Charles (yes, that one) is a direct descendant of Vlad Dracul. Also, Kate Middleton’s child will have Dracula’s blood flowing through his veins.
Hei, I’m not the one saying it. Prince Charles himself said so.
This implies that Dracula had children – yes, he did, however, if he actually conceived them is unknown because his children have been depicted not looking like him, but nonetheless, that happens.
He had children and a wife, which killed herself apparently but that’s another story.
I’m going to stop here with the history of Dracula and Sighisoara because it makes no sense of going further. My next post will be the real reason of creating this blog. This introduction, along with the other posts in the “explanations” category are just that, descriptions and explanations to make you understand things that will follow.