Colder At The Edge

The lake smelt fetid, tainting the beautiful atmosphere created by the cloudless, moonless night. I stepped into the water, frigid about my ankles. The lake was always colder at the edge. I continued walking amongst the shallows, before reaching the possum that had lost its way. I had seen it fall from an overhanging branch only minutes ago, during a tussel with a neighbouring possum. It struggled for a moment, but quickly drowned. Now it lay here in front of me. I reached down and drew it out of the water. I quickly tore a patch of skin off and began sucking what little blood I could out of the creature. Even this shortly after death, I could feel the blood beginning to coagulate. It did not feel like I was feeding. It felt like I was drinking death. Unfortunatly, this was what I had been forced into. Running low on blood at home, and unable to purchase blood from the butcher due to punishment, I was forced to scurry up what I could.

I turned, tossing the creature back into the shallows, and walked towards shore. Two headlights appeared at the top of the hill leading to the lake. I quickly fled into the nearby bushes. A group of teenagers pulled up and began preparing fishing rods, laughing, teasing. One of the younger ones, Matt, was the target of most of there foul language. I could see, even in that light, that this boy didn't want to be there. He was the younger brother of one of the other people there. I assumed he was there out of obligation. I could have left then, gone home, but I watched curious.

I'll feel guilty for that for the rest of my life. Jack showed up, wondering what was keeping me. Matt walked off into the bushes, just for a walk, to escape the verbal siege. Jack couldn't resist the oppurtunity. I wish I had the courage to stand up to him, or alert the humans. I didn't. Jack followed the child off into the bushes. I followed too, whispering pleas to Jack. He shushed me, as Matt began returning, walking in our direction. I could hear him mumbling to himself, as he kicked small rocks along the floor. Jack stealthily approached, and hid behind a tree in Matts path. My mind began screaming at me, pleading me to help the boy. I put my own safety first; Jack never liked missing a meal. He shot out from the tree, and plunged a heavily serrated knife into Matts throat, cutting off his vocal chords. The knife was ripped out, and Jack immediatley placed his lips over the wound. It was done with such skill, it horrfied me. It still haunts me. Although very rarely, I still see Matts face in my dreams. From sadness, to shock, to a blank expression.

It was useless arguing with Jack, I should have let him go. Matt wouldn't remain in my memory. Or had I left after my feed... I could have saved him.

November 1678, England

My dear Grandmother Joan, whom died long before I was born, always had a story to tell. Unfortunately, one of those stories inspired a vendetta in Arthur.

England , 1678, Joan, 7 years old, was expecting a sibling. Rarely does a child vampire feel the joy of a similar aged sibling, but Joan was no different. With all the suspicion and witch hunts at the time, she didnt stand a chance. Her mother had been pregnant for over two years now, which did not go unnoticed by certain members of the public. Rising early in the morning, Joan couldn't help but notice the fog was glowing in the distance. Waking her mother and father to show her the strange phenomenon brought horror upon the family.

Her father walked outside, and stopped dead in his tracks.
"Get some shoes on, where leaving!" He commanded, his eyes revealing his worried state.
The family each grabbed shoes, and Joan was dragged out the door by her father. The pretty glowing in the distance was brighter. Closer. As the trio fled, Joan oblivious to what was coming, the angry mob came upon the house. The house was joined by the glow, and althought the fog was thick, Joan knew the house was aflame. 7 small glowing spheres broke off from the house, spreading around the area with extreme speed.

The speed of the horses was far superior to the fleeing vampires, especially with one being pregnant, and soon one of the spheres revealed the prescence of a horseman, who caught sight of the family. A horn sounded, and the other glowing spheres changed direction, directing themselves to the horseman. Joan knew what was happening now. Her mothers worried sobs had given away her fate.
"I'll distract them." Were her fathers only words, as he unexpectedly changed direction.
There was no time to call him back.

They reached the thick woods now. That would not save them. The other horseman wre approaching, and Joan was hurriedly hidden in a bush.
"Don't move. Don't make a sound. If anyone asks, I was going to kill you." Her mother said, binding Joan in her concealed spot, gagging her.
As she moved away from the spot, the horsemen finally caught her, there torches burning the morning fog. Joan watched from her position as her mother was caught.

Before long, a large mob surrounded her mother, her father brought forth. They were tied to a young, dead tree. The mob threw down logs at there feet, to the sound of her fathers screams.
"Give her a trial!" he screamed.
Then, Joans mother said something noone expected.
"Its no use, they'll find our breakfast before we get a chance to flee," she spoke, admission of her fate laced through her delicate voice.
"HERE!" A man cried from the crowd, bringing forth Joan, taking off the gag.
Outrage poured from the crowd, cries of cannabalism and witchcraft.
"You deserve no trial," a horsman stated, issuing silence. "You will burn."
Joan was shocked at how plain the mans voice was. Tears streaming down her face, which the mob mistook for fright of the witches, Joan watched the flames come to life.

Joan watched as her parents were consumed by the fire, as her parents murderer cooed softly to her, attempting to comfort her.
"It'll be alright, their gone now." The man whispered.


Joan, raising Arthur almost 200 years later, she taught him her morals. She passed down her hate for humans to him, which he attempted to pass down to me. Fortunatley my mother was on an alternate side. She somewhat quelled his hate for the species while she was alive. But thats another story. One I'm not up to disclosing.

(Events as described by Arthur)

Aftermath

Feeling inspired by the hero of Devil May Cry, I flipped a coin to decide whether or not I would visit Lisa. Heads, she would see me as soon as possible. Tails, I would remain at home for the duration of the evening. The coin soared through the air, slapped down on to my palm which hurriedly slammed it down onto my left hand. I stood still, a moments hesitation. I slowly began to move my hand away. Heads.

Rosalie's frustrated breathing as she drove me to the hospital sent irritation through my body. She has to drive me everywhere, so she frequently acts this way, but honestly, doesn't this seem a viable reason? I didn't say anything to her for fear she would turn the car around, but inside I wanted to scream at her.

The emergency ward was fairly quiet, save a patient nearby whining in pain. Lisa's mother was gone, talking to one of the nurses in private. As I knelt beside Lisa, our gazes locked, I held her right hand for comfort. We both knew we were heading into awkward territory, but neither backed down. Somewhere along the line, our faces came closer together. I could see a repeat of World Youth Day coming, but I still didn't back down. The memories of that night flew back, the feeling of those soft lips, until I realised it was happening for real. I pulled back suddenly. She seemed distracted, her response awkward.
"All this bleeding... its making everything taste like blood."
I nearlt laughed, if it werent for what I had just done. I explained that I didn't want to go out with her. I said I was more of a "hook up kinda guy." It felt terrible saying that. I couldn't stand pretending I was someone who disrespects women. I've only ever kissed two in my life, Courtney and Lisa. Maybe the pain killers had some mental effect, because she seemed dazed. He mother returned, and I took the first oppurtunity there was to bail. I doubt she realised the source of the bloodied taste, but it was too close for comfort. This is what happens when you listen to a coin. Gotta hate fate.

Mistakes Are The True Teachers

A teenager in todays society would use any excuse to take a day off school. I can't say I'm much different. Last night, while happily chatting away on msn, Rosalie on the computer next to me, I learned something about my ex girlfriend. My only ex girlfriend. My human ex girlfriend.

I was thinking of saving this story of my past for some point in the distant future, but alas, I feel the urge to divulge it now.

March 2008, I had been going out with Courtney for 9 months and 7 days, but whose counting? For my first relationship, it sure left a mark. She didn't know what I was, and nor did I intend to reveal it. It was a pupil free day, so I went to her house while her parents were at work.

Leaning gently on each other, watching The Lion King, (as teens do) I placed a small kiss on her neck. Before I knew it, I was laying over her, passionatley kissing her neck. I had always prided myself on my willpower, and believed I would be able to resist temptation. Maybe I should have drained a chicken from my backyard before I left. I suppose you can guess what happened next. Where she was expecting a hickey, she recieved a bite mark, that tore deep into her flesh. I quickly realised what I had done. Her screams still ring through my ears from that moment, as I backed off, thick blood dribbling down my chin. That was the last time we ever had a proper conversation. I ran out the door, and never looked back. She concealed the bite from her parents, not wanting them to know I had come over. On the bright side, my identity was never exposed.

I used to think she had convinced herself it was a fettish of mine, until now. Last night, I was talking to her close friend, Cassie. She said Courtney never gave a straight answer when she was asked about why we broke up. Recently (according to Cassie) she let slip the words "he scares me".
That brought back memories of the day I lost the first girl I ever felt for. I can't even talk to her anymore, out of fear, and she has made clear that she wants nothing to do with me. I wasn't willing to show my face at school after this. Rosalie understands. I should have listened to her when she told me it was a bad idea. If i truly felt for Courtney, I should have let her go. But I learn from my mistakes. I won't feel the loving touch of a human again.

The Den

As vampires that live for periods of time longer than that of any human, it's understandable that we can't legally own a house. The concept is far too risky, so we resort to renting out homes for a few years at a time maximum, then moving on. Sometimes we only remain in one place for a few weeks. My family has come to call our place 'The Den,' purely because the title mocks the common perception of our kind. The Den doesn't only contain our bloodline, but also several other nomads and families; which is understandable due to the small size of the average family. My only brother is 48 years older than me, and my mother passed away a decade ago. That makes an all guy family, so we decided we'd move in with another group of vampires for obvious reasons.

But after spending the last 24 hours in The Den, I can't stand it anymore. Peter killed a girl. We knew it the moment he stepped through the door. His shirt sported excess blood from our rather messy eating methods. Though i must give him credit, he eats in a much tidier fashion than anyone else. What makes what he does worse, is that he brags about his kills to all of us. When almost half of us prefer to preserve human life, it doesn't ease our minds to know that a friend is tearing out their throats with amusement. Rosalie agrees with me. Shes a vampire of 18, only a few months older than me. We get along well, and we agree on most matters, so we had our private discussion about that fool.

On the bright side, it shouldn't have to continue much longer. Recently, there have been blood drives at my school every 3 months, which was originally a day that would plague my conscience, and threaten to take me. Fortunately, me and Rosalie convinced Lily, one of the older females, to work for the blood bank. Succesfully landing this job will see regular deliveries of donor blood to The Den. After that day, I vow to spill the blood of any vampire residing in The Den who takes the life of a human for a meal.

The Whinge

How to whinge? I learned from the best. Plastics. The most superficial band of society, and coincidentally the stupidest. They whinge over any detail, from the terrible make up on their putrid faces to the existence of any life form that doesn't spend its life assisting them. What really burned my insides was a typical pair whinging over gaining an insignificant amount of weight, unnoticable on there bodies, already bordering annorexia.

Now don't misinterpret, I don't have anything against those who suffer reasonably from annorexia, but I can't stand the ones that fight to keep there weight at a minimum, refusing to eat just to be able to brag about the bodies to others, and impress the lesser half of the male population. Now it's my turn to whinge. They're problems are clearly insignificant, when compared to my eating disorder. Yes, I call it a disorder because thats what i view it as. I wish i was a normal human. Though I know many would love to live for over 200 years, I'll tell you now, the grass is greener on the other side.
For me, its not a battle to limit my eating for physical appeal, its just that finding a substantial supply of blood is difficult. Thats why some of us hunt humans. Your all easy targets. I think those vampires are sick, it's too similar to canabalism, and ever since I found out I was different from all the other kids, I've hated the prospect of taking a life.

Unfortunatley, I have to live with it. I've experienced moments where my imagination would conjure vivid images of me diving on my school teachers or friends and tearing the flesh at their necks open. The worst part is, I wished I could do it. Suddenly the tribulations of a plastic seem insignificant don't they? Imagine you had to listen to them whinge while inside you there was a voice screaming at you to shut them up at their vocal chords.

Next time you hear an insignificant whinge, or if you ever wish you were one of us, just remember this. And this isn't the half of it. If you read my previous post, you might have noticed I've tasted human blood before. If I were up to disclosing that story, it would turn anyone off vampirism for life.

Chase