The Darkest Night

You can't be lonely if you never knew what it was like to be anything but. From the start I had no one. I stay away from the world, until I need food or information. I have adjusted, or so I thought.

October, 2008 A.D.

            The sun crawled above the horizon, brightening the crevices of Seattle. I held my prey steadily at arms length, letting him watch the sun rise and see the light of day for the last time. A pointless courtesy, but one I offered nevertheless.

            I watched as this mundane fellow mumbled quiet prayers in Latin.

“Da, quaesumus Dominus, ut in hora mortis nostrae Sacramentis refecti et culpis omnibus expiati, in sinum misericordiae tuae laeti suscipi mereamur. Per Christum Dominum nostrum. Amen.” Praying for a happy death? It’s a little too late to turn to religion.

            The sun crept over us, I was unaffected by the light as others of my kind were. The warmth only brought me memories of my life as an ignorant human. The time when I ran through fields and played in the sun. I’ve changed so much since then.

            The weak squirming of the man brought me out of my reverie; he struggled as though he could sense his impending peril. I took another long glance at the sun before sinking my sharp canines into the throat of the man.

            When I finished, I dropped the man to the asphalt, regret sweeping over me for the first time in many years. I had learned to dispose of the victim quickly, to never look at the face, or learn their name. I tuned out the crying and pleading, I ignored their prayers. This kept me from getting attached to the victim. From caring about their lives and possible futures. Never before have I felt this guilt, and never again shall I.

            I hated this cursed life, what I did and who I was, but I had no choice in the matter, and it is irreversible. Frozen forever at seventeen, I walk the earth alone, never looking back and never looking forward.

            I no longer remember the day of my birth, my date of death has also faded from memory. I still remember Eleanor, Duchess of Aquitaine, ex-Queen of France and then Queen of England. The memories of my time with her have stayed; they are the only memories to tell me when I could have been born.

            The memories of my death were odd. Wrought with the confusion in a time of great fear. I was in the courtyard, it was dark out….

            October, 1159 A.D.

            The rustling of my gown was sure to wake the dead. I knew no reason to be up at such an ungodly hour, but if my Lady, la Duchesse, requires my assistance, then I shall go. Far away a bell tolls, warning me of the dangers of the night. Unescorted, I took many risks, even in walking across the protected courtyard, if caught, many bad things might happen.

            This dreadful thought caused me to pick up my pace and hurry more. Behind me I heard footsteps.

“Imagination. Just imagination.” I tried to calm myself, but the increasing beats of my heart told me that it did not work.

            I took a chance and glanced back, but the darkness covered the one making the sounds. I increased my pace even more, so I was going as fast as my dress would allow.

Closer the steps came, they were catching up. I looked for any place to go, anywhere to hide, but my choice in path led me along a wall that held no doors or niches.

            A scream built up in my throat, but was rendered useless when two strong hands grabbed me, one gripping my thin neck, the other my mouth. Tighter and tighter the hands squeezed, until I was seeing spots of light in my vision.

            Until, the hands released and it took all I had to not fall to the ground gasping for air. Before I could gain back my dull senses, the hands were back, restraining my arms and mouth. I felt the hot breath of the attacker against my throat, it stank when it reached my nose.

“My, my, a pretty one. You are Elena I believe. What a loss for the court of dear Eleanor.” The man’s voice was unfamiliar, but it was the voice of a noble, not a field hand or peasant. He spoke English, with a slight accent that I had never heard before.

            I gasped as I felt his teeth clamp down on my neck. The pain was horrible, he let me go and I, too week to stand, fell to the dirt. The last thing I saw was a glimpse of his face, but not enough to recognize him.

            My mind succumbed to the pain and I noticed no more until I woke up again, so far away from my home. The people spoke a harsher language that I knew to be Spanish.

            I searched for answers in my brain, the hows, whys and whats. I knew none of the answers.

            For days I wandered, slowly getting my bearings and discovering what I was. The man changed me into a Demon, a Vampire, Devil-being. I prayed and prayed, but felt no better. The tears would not come when I cried, the pain I felt at the killing of people to quench my thirst never left. The loathing I felt never ended.

            A wanderer I have become. Avoiding the cursed beings like me, except for information. I make no friends and care not for family. I am by myself, and that is how I intend to stay.

            October, 2008 A.D.

“Hello?” Again, I was pulled from the past by a mortal.

“Yes?” I turned around and was face to face, with a boy my age, but he was not a mortal, his features pointed him out as a vampire. The focused blood red eyes, and the ghost white skin, but the most obvious trait was the sharp canines exposed by his smile.

“You seem to be dreaming. Of the past? Losing sight of the present is an unsafe practice for a vampire.”

“And why is that?” Disinterested, I turned to head back to the apartment I had rented for my short time in Seattle.

“Because, vampires have many to be weary of.”

“Who do I have to be ‘weary of’? You?  What quarrel do you have with me?” I turned back to face him, but he was gone. Strange creature.

            I stayed and hunted in Seattle for another week, throughout most of it, I secretly hoped to see the stranger again. He was interesting.

            I moved into Bellingham next, I had been there several times, but I planned to stay a bit longer this time. After hunting for the first time since I left Seattle, I went to my favorite harbor. I sat there watching the sun set.

“That’s my spot you know.” I smiled a bit; the voice belonged to the vampire in Seattle.

“Your spot? I was here first, and besides, even if it had your name on it, I am disinclined to obeying property lines.” That remark got me a large smile from the mysterious stranger.

“I still don’t know your name.”

“I don’t know yours either.”

“Not going to make this easy for me are you? Well, my name is Bond, James Bond.” He definitely had the British accent down.

“Well, 007, I will be the mature one, my name is Elena.” I held out my hand.

He took my hand and kissed the top of it “Demetrius, but the last person to call me that was my mother, so call me Mike.”

“How in the world did you get Mike from Demetrius?”

“Don’t ask. It’s not pleasant.” I rolled my eyes.

“Now, I am more inclined to ask than before and, I think I’ll call you Demetrius.” I stood up from my place on the bench.

“Why? It’s a terrible name. Whatever.” He stood up. “As repayment for calling me Demetrius, you should let me walk you home.”

“If you insist.”

            The walk quickly turned into running, which developed into a race. I arrived at my door, out of breath for the first time since I became a vampire.

“I win!”

“Is this your place? Small.” He was teasing, but I was a little nervous about showing him my place, even to a nomad, the “lair” is typically never shown to many people, just those you start to trust. A vampire's ho,e contains everything you could use against the owner. The place where you don't need to hide yourself from the world.

            Despite the extremely short time I’ve know Demetrius, he was starting to grow on me.

“Shut up, no need to be mean.”

            I stepped inside, inhaling the soft scents in my flat. I turned to talk to Demetrius, but I was stopped by crushing arms restricting any movement.

            So similar to the night I was changed, of course this time I could fight back. I twisted out of the arms, dislocating my shoulder. I had no time to put it back in place. The attacker was already back, he lunged but I was able to dodge it. I spun around, and he was already on this balls of his feet ready to attack again. I dropped into a crouch, my mind going through battle techniques.

“Do you remember me now pretty Elena?” For the first time, I really looked at his face, the features, the angles.

            Demetrius, he was the one that attacked me, who changed me into this monster.

“You” I growled. I would kill him if it was the last move I would make.

“I was surprised when you didn’t recognize me the first time. I must have choked you too much. Normally, everyone attacks the first time they see me again.”

“Normally? You have changed a bunch of people? And then what? You kill them? What kind of sadistic game do you play?”

“An interesting one. Maybe you’ll fight better than the rest. I’ve let you live so much longer than them. Their hearts and minds were softened by their unity with their covens, but you, you stayed away. Why?”

            We had both started moving in a circle, our eyes watching each other’s movements. I watched his fingers twitch, as though they were waiting to punch and tear. He was playing with my patience. Trying to get me to attack first, to put myself at a disadvantage. That was not going to happen.

            For what seemed like hours we circled, waiting for the other to make the first move.

“C’mon Elena, attack, get me back for your death, you want to. You know it.”

            His words burned into my eyelids. Attack. Attack. I did. I couldn’t stop myself. I was calm enough after his little talk, that he must not have expected my sudden lunge. I knocked into him, swiftly tearing off an arm.

            He howled in pain, and I felt a morbid gratification. He still had the strength advantage, even with one arm. He flung me off and I crashed into the wall by the kitchen. He had used enough force to cause the wall to crumble. Before I could recover, he had his hand at my throat. I fought, and he pinned my down with his legs.

“Ready to die Elena? To die for second time?” I kept struggling.

“Never.” With a sudden burst of energy, I threw him off me and next to the fire place. He shrank away from the flame that I always had burning. I jumped over to him kicking him towards the blaze. Closer and closer he went, too injured to stop me. With a final push he was completely engulfed.

            It was over. The one who changed me is dead. I had thought about finding and destroying whom ever had ruined my life, but I had imagined myself feeling victorious and gleeful. Killing him has done me no good, just caused me to feel guiltier. Revenge, hasn’t been as glorious as I thought.   

            An eye for an eye will make the whole world blind.

            With nowhere to stay, I grabbed my things and fled. I did not want to be around when the police came. It was inevitable that someone had heard the fight. I headed back to England, to where I was born. To continue my life, alone, and weary.

 

Author's Note

So, this was a "short" story for my English class. Tell me what you think.
I got the prayer from http://www.thesacredheart.com/latpray.htm the prayer I used in my story was: the prayer for a happy death, which, obviously, didn't turn out too well for the man praying.