Timeless

Timeless

Melody Telleria

          Once too many times I’ve preyed on beauty and form, seeking visual satisfaction before life was drained away. Silhouettes in ruffles and lace that mocked the meaning of clothing, attached to gleaming nude legs that paled beautifully in the night. Some were women of questionable employment. Most were genteel ladies in disguise, seeking thrills in places they should not have stepped into, if respectability was of value. My games extended to little fluffs tinkling laughter while they lost their old, disabled husbands their fortunes, in games of cards and shuffles. These little minxes were young and frivolously curious about the dark, handsome men that resided in women’s fantasies. They flounced across the rooms that were dimly lit with glows of red and flirted wildly, teasing without reward and giving more than satisfying glimpses of perky little bosom’s eager to spill out. Cigar smoke and sharp scents of perfume seeped through the gauzy curtains that separated the rooms and games. Laughter and good natured arguments were heard throughout, and when you listened close enough, you could make out propositions and arrangements for bouts of pleasure or illegal activities. The women who had past their prime were also quite the game of pursuit, as they pretended shock and waved their decorated fans in my face when I seized kisses in the dark; they knew all about the result of such games and it was quite easy to have one bend over and lift her skirts while I forced cries of surprising pleasure to echo in the dark corridors. I was a man of desirable wealth and a questionable reputation, which seemed to draw all the more women, with a smoldering appearance and artfully skilled in seduction and thrill. Living life has always been simple and uncomplicated. Now I curse my powers and the dark, and my heart beats each day without purpose, for I have lost what I never had. But let me tell you a little about my life before I indulge in self-pity. The day of my twenty third birth day, when I encountered a woman who roamed the hills on my father’s land, was the day of my real birth. I had looked up to the hills, after herding the ewes and their offspring back to their dry hearth, and there stood a woman. The feelings I had will never fade away; they are living in me now, and I think back to that moment when she took the first steps towards me.

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          Pulling up the rope rapidly, I grasped the jug and drank with greedy gulps that splashed onto my neck and dampened clothes. It was still early in the evening, and the sun was not quite set yet, so the skies were streaked with bright, deep colors that reflected the harvesting season. The sheep tittered among themselves as I walked away and headed towards the cottage where my family and I lived. Then I looked up and in the suns shade was a woman. She wore a simple dress of cherry red that wrapped around her and flowed lightly in the breeze. She stood there looking at me, as she held her abundant hair behind her with her left hand to avoid it blowing in the light breeze. I started to approach her and called out in my native brogue, that has been greatly refined since then, “May I help ye miss? Have ye lost yer way?” Encouraged by my inquiries, she came towards me and smiled, saying:

“I have not lost my way, I am just enjoying a walk in these wonderful hills. Do they belong to you?”

“Nay, this is my fathers land, my lady. A walk through it is lovely I’m certain. These hills be the grandest in all of Ireland. They abound in rich soil and harvest.” I replied smugly. It was then I took a long look into her eyes as she laughed at what I’m sure was the young pride in me. They were alluring, a green of the lightest jade in the orient. Clear and strong, and I was drawn in. Her lashes seemed to beckon to me, little flutters of invitation.

“I see you are proud of your father’s accomplishments. Would you walk with me? I’m sure you must know some very beautiful places.” I was supposed to go home. My family would be waiting for me to say prayers and eat supper. But it seemed that fact was far misplaced in my mind. I preened with pleasure at being able to accompany such a pretty lass on a walk. I was young and green and was making up stories in my head already of what I would tell the fellows in the village.

“I am not from around here. I’ve traveled a distance seeking a place to settle. My name is Illyanna by the way.” She said with a little smile as she looked over at me. “What do I have the pleasure of calling you?” It is clear to me now that I never asked her questions of where she was from or why she was traveling and roaming the land on her own, a thing uncustomary of the women of those days. My mind was focused on her voice, velvety and light, and my eyes kept glancing at her form, which was rapidly arousing my senses. I blurted out,

“My name is Devlin. Devlin Shay. And I’m seventeen years old this past spring.” Amused, she took and my hand and swung it lightly as we walked. My skin tingled with delight at her action.

“Devlin is a strong name, I like it. It means brave and daring one, I believe. Are you brave and daring Devlin?” she asked teasingly.

“Only if I like the challenge put before me.” I cockily replied. We reached the end of one of my favorite places and she sighed when I pulled aside the wild vines and revealed a little clearing surrounding a pond. The light of the moon shone in through the trees and created an ethereal effect. The earth was moist and the pond clear, revealing colorful fish amidst the growing vegetation. A frog croaked its discomfort and hid behind a rock as we walked on. Illyanna stopped and lightly tugged my hand.

“Have you ever loved a woman Devlin? Caught off guard I replied that yes, of course, I loved my mom. She smiled and eyed me closely. “Have you no lass waiting for you in the village? A boy your age, well you’re a man really, must have already held a girl in your arms and sought pleasure.” Flushing, mumbled something about not having time and she laughed and ran her fingers through my hair. I was getting agitated and discomforted and I plopped myself down on the ground. Yes, I thought, at my age I should have held a girl in my arms, but I was burdened with severe shyness, and had never gotten very far with a girl. I looked up at her and saw her eyes shining, as I was drawn into a haze. Suddenly, my surroundings were searing my senses and I was filled with confusion and dread. I rose and she touched my pale cheeks with both her hands and smiled. Two fangs protruded from her mouth; sharp little teeth that gleamed in the night.

“Who are ye, what are ye! Get away from me!” I yelled as I stumbled back and tripped.

“Devlin, hush. I’m not going to hurt you. You are exquisite.”

“Then why do ye look like that, what kind of creature are ye!”

“Nothing you should be frightened off Devlin. My kind are creatures of the night. You’re shaking you poor thing. I just want to show you pleasure.”

“ I do not want yer pleasure, I need to get home, da is going to be upset, I must go!”

“Why Devlin, you’re a grown man. Stay a while with me. I can give you things you’ve only barely imagined. I can offer you meaning and eternity,” She purred temptingly.

“Eternity? Yes, when I die I will be in heaven’s eternity. What can ye offer me? A creature of the night does not sound like they can have eternity in heaven? Besides, I have been watching you for a few weeks now. I have a desire for you Devlin. Can’t you admit, you’d like to know what I can to do, how I will feel under you?” Her laughter rang in my ears as she drew closer to me and circled my body with her arms and pressed her body against mine. That was all it took for me to lose fear and gain desire for possession. I began breathing heavily and I could feel her breath, hot and alluring, whispering against my neck.

“Heaven is not the only eternity Devlin. I can give you eternal life here on earth.” She said as she took my hands and placed them on her chest. “Let me show you darling. It will only be a tiny pierce of pain, and after that I will make your blood roar.”

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          Then she stepped back and reaching behind her neck, undid her gown and let it slither down around her feet. Until this day I have never seen such perfection. Hair the color of rich earth pooled around her shoulders and down to her waist. Her body gleamed like heavy cream and was free of hair. I noticed the softness of her shoulders and how they molded down into breasts so tempting and begging to be nestled in my hands. Her n*****s were small and rosy and stood out proudly and teasingly. I wanted to wrap my hands around her willowy waist and whisper kisses from her navel and up to her lips. Losing my control, I harshly spread my mouth over her lips and clumsily kissed her as I ran my hands up her back. The shock of her naked body against mine set me afire. She was patient. She taught me. In the shadows of the night, she rose over me and sank back down in a steady rhythm, taking me far away into pleasure so immense I couldn’t open my eyes. Her sturdy thighs seemed to shimmer in the moonlight as they wrapped around me while I rolled her beneath me, and she mixed little murmurs of encouragement along with soft moans into my ear. And as I worked feverishly into her, I felt her body heating intensely and watched in fascination as her neck and face flushed rosily and she cried out my name in release and sank her pearly fangs into my neck. It was moment of complete understanding with the world, and my senses were intensified. I roared like a beast as I experienced that rebirth and emptied myself in her, our bodies in an electrified embrace. The rest of that night was a blur of images I’ve now repeated countless times with women. But the next morning, I was unprepared to find myself lying in the damp ground, alone and naked. It seems I was used and tossed aside. I laugh at it now, but I understand the fickleness of her nature. Other females of my kind have a very careless attitude about lovers. Illyanna was attracted to my image and had an itch, frankly put. I was empowered by anger at her abandonment and snuck clothing off the fence where my mother would hang them to dry, and I eyed my surroundings while I walked away from the place I grew up in, leaving my family and friends without a single glance back. I was bewildered at the easy abandonment of my current life and family, but I strangely felt nothing of it. Thus began my journey as a creature of the night.

           My life has been a whirlwind of emotions and decisions since the night I turned. I never knew that in such power as being immortal, it would be harder to live through each day. The day I left my village and ventured into the vast earth spread before me was a travel of bitter thoughts, tears, joy, exhilarating pleasure, and recognition of senses, and fear. I felt lost in all these emotional roads for many months, and spent my days hiding in shadows and my nights doing the dirty work for others so that I would survive. I learned to feed off the people I was hired to take out. I felt guilt at first but then I quickly replaced my guilt with the thought that I was doing a service to the people by getting rid of these vagabonds and feeding off of them. The taste of blood, as I would break the skin, flowed heavy and rich into my body. The experience each time made me stronger and increased the mental powers I discovered I had. I could choose to pick out someone’s thoughts, and I was able to picture a destination in my mind and focus steadily as I was transported there. But even with these new abilities, I felt shock at what I desired, disgust at what I enjoyed, and aimless in my uncertain immortality.

           One night as I was shown my room in a little inn that was buried on the side of a hill, I noticed the girl who held the candle to light the darkness. Pretty enough, with peach-colored hair, light freckles on her nose, a crooked little smile that teased of sensuality, and a bosom that was ready to break free. With her eyes she offered, and with my hands I took. In the still night we writhed in unstopping action, and when I rose over her before our climax and bared my fangs, she didn’t shrink away in terror. The young girl seemed to see nothing of disgust in it as she was taken over the edge. She gasped as I sank my fangs in her and drank her sweet, hot blood. I could see her eyes darken with evidence of her pleasure, and she showed no resistance to participating in what I had done. I slit a narrow gash on my forearm and let her drink greedily. It was a night of newfound power and she was the first human I drank from and gave her rights to live as I did, but I was in turmoil for having done so. And the morning after, I felt sick for permitting such a thing and enjoying it as I did It was the first time I had ever turned someone, and it felt almost too powerful too handle. But like everything else, I learned how to change my thoughts into those of pleasure and no remorse. I was a vampire. And as such, my life was never to be ordinary or bound by regulations.

           I let myself live accordingly and took with no regret. I reveled in the stories I heard, claiming that my kind could not enter a home without an invitation. Such silliness that was, and I would know, as I’ve invited myself into the homes of many, especially for a night of carnal decadence. And how foolish to start the rumor that a vampire cannot ever walk in sunlight. We can walk out during the day, but we must protect our bodies with dark fabric, even a hat. It is only the skin’s exposure to the sun that is dangerous. Another rumor was that a vampire could not see its image in a mirror"quite the lie, as I assure you, I’m rather vain and spend plenty of time preening and building my arrogance. As for garlic, that’s such a falsehood. I adore my dishes having garlic in it; in fact I supply my cook with fresh cloves of garlic weekly. As for other rumors…well I do know how to take care of myself, and I avoid stakes and holy water. I’ve never stepped into religious edifices, as they tend to make me anxious beyond belief with all the symbols and statues and crosses. I can look at a cross, but never hold one else I create a flaming spectacle of myself. Rumors abound, and I find it amusing to play with them and use them as defense when I let myself be known to the lucky victims.

           During the great reign of Elizabeth, I found myself drawn into politics and the frivolous affairs that went along with it. I was under oath to protect the sassy redhead, whom I never allowed myself to get too close too. I met her only once, enough for me, as she was alluring and tempting and I would have taken her with no regrets, even knowing she reveled in her damned virginity. I instead watched her from afar, during many of her lavish dances and parties her court was famous for. Only once, under masks, we danced, and I allowed my body to drink hers in. She never knew who I was, but I knew she longed to find out and ease the restlessness in her body when she looked up at me. Her eyes drank me in and when she laughed, it was low and husky, as a woman in curiosity and need would laugh. But she was moral and stubborn, being the blasted human she was. So I worked for her, kept her harbors safe and was involved in making sure the pirates from, ironically, Ireland, didn’t get the best of her. It was a most exciting way to earn my keep. But as time went by, I was left alone as always. There were always people around me, but the friendships I made could never accompany me into the years. I made it a rule for myself to never turn anyone I cared for into a vampire, as it was out of pure selfishness. I kept my identity hidden from others most often than not, for to spring that lifestyle on them would have been painful for them to deal with. So I watched many age until the certain point that made it necessary for me to take leave from their lives, in order to prevent the questions of my youth. I learned to live that way, but it made me bitter. The other vampires I knew, I found suffocating and boring. I never allowed myself to get close.

I became involved in killing for payment. I was hired by men who sought to seek revenge, so I would go out and make that happen. After a while, I decided to make it my business. I didn’t go to men for work, they came to me and for a great price, they had the privilege of my hand involved in their games of debt, scandal, revenge, and greed and I carried out orders perfectly. It was in this lifestyle that I experienced, what I consider my life’s spiral to misery. It was the year 1914 and the world was hearing of the first World War, something I was disinterested in. I had been asked to put an end to a man who had taken revenge on his opponent who he had faced in a serious game of cards. The opponent had lost almost all his fortune, fool that he was, and sought to cause misery to the man who had won it all, a Mr. James Thornstall. Mr. Thornstall came to my home personally.

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He walked briskly up the steps, his ivory cane in one hand, helping him move along even with his injured leg. The long tail of his coat flew out behind him and was speckled with drops of water that clung on as they were splashed up in the air by the pair of dark, leather boots. He took the knocker and gave three quick rats on the metal frame. At once a maid opened the door, a small woman with pale skin, and big blue eyes.

“You must be Mr. Thornstall. Let me take your coat and cane, sir. I believe Mr. Shay is ready for you in his office. Right this way please.”

“I had heard the man was wealthy, but I didn’t expect such fine art and class in his home,” Thornstall thought to himself. “The man’s an assassin, but his living style shows refinement and taste.”

He walked into the office, and his recent evaluation of Mr. Shay was fortified. Here was a man who knew how to live and spared no expense for comfort or appearance. His office was large, lit with brilliant candles that rested in gold plated candlesticks. The desk in front of him was spacious and made of dark cherry wood, glossed evenly all over. Thornstall looked around and observed the neatly lined bookshelves that were up against the walls, filled with hardcopies of all the great influential men of the pas, and even poets and writers of classics. He walked on polished mahogany that circled the thick, lush rug, with its fancy depictions of a battle woven on the border. The light clank of glass against glass startled him and he turned to see a figure in the shadows emerge with two tumblers of brandy.

“Cheers, Mr. Thornstall, drink up.” He said, after handing me the brandy and tapping his glass against mine. I took a tip a sip and noted the rich smoothness. As always, Mr. Shay had the best. But I was here for business, and I cleared my throat and came straight to the point. “You kill for a living Mr. Shay.”

“Call me Devlin, Thornstall, you make me feel so damn old,” He interjected, and grinned as if he knew a secret I would never know.

“Ah, yes, ok. Devlin, you kill. I have decided to pay most rewardingly for the death of a certain Allan Foster. A greedy American I tell you, a b*****d who came to England to partake of our highlights. Simply put, he murdered my new wife and our unborn child, after having his way with her. I stripped him clean of all grand bet he made in a fair games of cards. He took revenge, as he couldn’t handle it like a man. I don’t know if you torture your targets, but I’m willing to pay you more for it.” I wiped my forehead and swallowed the last of the brandy, as I sat in the seat opposite his. He sat there, dignified, yet careless in his attitude as he rolled up his sleeves and leaned back in his seat with arms crossed.

“Mr. Thornstall, what do you hope to accomplish with the death of this Allan Foster? And. Frankly, wouldn’t you find it a greater pleasure to kill him yourself after he what he did to your wife?

“I would like nothing more then to kill him face to face, but I have a daughter and a title to protect. God help me, my daughter Allysandra is eighteen years of age and stubborn as her mother was. My first wife, that is, who ran off with a brash Scotsman when Allysandra was only five. I must protect her until she marries, but she won’t marry is what the problem is, and I have not the heart to force her.”

“I have seen your daughter I believe, Thornstall. Quite the beauty. She seems feisty and immature. I’ll marry her.” I stared at him as he cut the tip of his cigar and lit it, puffing wisps of smoke, and then I laughed. He continued to stare, and I realized he was quite serious. I sat up in my chair and felt my blood heating.

“You jest with me Mr. Shay and I don’t like it one bit. Allysandra is a heiress and a lady of breeding, and you, an assassin, ask for her hand?

“I am an assassin yes, of men who dearly deserve that outcome. I do not kill for sport Mr. Thornstall. In fact, if you still wish me to kill Foster, I’ll do it and it will be my last. I want a wife and I seem to have developed a rash desire for your spoiled, silly daughter. I have seen her many times at coming out dances and at her very own. And I know a secret you wish no one else will. Allysandra is no proper little virgin, but instead took a lover about a year ago. You paid him off and he left, but not before she delighted in countless little pleasures. I’ll overlook that, I do not care for a simpering virgin. And what you do not know, is I may have no title, but I outrank the wealth of the men in this city by hundreds.”

“Allysandra would never go for this scheme! I’m here to conduct business that is all! And how dare you blackmail me with her mistakes. How can you even know about any of it?” I was sitting in cold rage, the sweat on my neck drizzling down my back, to think he knew about these unfortunate happenings. How far would he take it?

“My price for the assassination of Adam Foster, who raped and tortured your late wife in her last moments, and caused the death of your unborn, is Allysandra’s hand in marriage. Or our business here is done. Send a post to me when you decide. Have a pleasant evening Thornstall.” With that, he strode out of the room and I heard him tell his maid to show me out.

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          For all his power and wealth, Thornstall was a weak man, and selfish with his position, so he agreed to marry his daughter off to me. Allysandra made my heart skip beats, such was her beauty. I was invited to go have luncheon and meet her personally. She had hair that looked like polished copper, long and wavy and like a mane around her loveliness. The contrast of her creamy skin to her fiery halo was alluring, as were her jade green eyes, which were fanned with lashes so long the whispered below her lower brows. She was a small woman, like her mother, as I could tell from the portraits, but had a generous body that surrounded her willowy waist. I did not care that she was not a virgin I just wanted her under me and never again touched by another man. She would be mine. I had an insane desire to have her belong to me. The temptation to taste of her blood was almost painful, but I knew I could not expose her to my identity. During the luncheon, she was quiet and reserved, but when she locked eyes with mine, I could see the desire for revenge. I wondered at that, for I couldn’t understand why she would be so upset. I saved her reputation. We conversed about nothing of importance, and in her tone I could sense distaste for me. I was not surprised to see her rise from her settee and announce to her father that she had a headache and was fatigued. Fool that he was he fell for her charade. The contracts were drawn up, and we would be married in a small chapel two months from that day. As I sat in my coach while the driver rode away, I pulled the curtain and looked back. There was a light on in the third floor, and as I looked at the window, Allysandra appeared and met my eyes. I watched her eyes gleam and held my breath as I watched her pull her nightgown aside and let it drop. Her nude form in the dimly lit night almost had me gasp. She laughed and turned to walk away.

A few days later, while I read in my office late at night, my maid Daisy knocked and announced that Allysandra Thornstall was waiting for me in the parlor. I gaped at Daisy for a few seconds, then cleared my throat and told her I would take it from there, and dismissed her to bed for the night. Walking into the parlor, I saw her standing by the settee, wearing a long blue cloak. Her hair tumbled around her, and she looked up when she heard me and smiled lightly.

“Mr. Thornstall. You seem surprised to see me here.”

“Allysandra…pardon me, Lady Thornstall, what are you doing here? Does your father know you are here?” She tinkled the air with laughter.

”Oh, come now, no more formalities between us, Devlin. As for my father, he spends his evenings locked away in his office or visiting a whorehouse these days. And my maid is paid handsomely to keep her mouth shut when it comes to my actions.”

“I must say, Allysandra, it is well into the evening. What can I do for you, if anything? Why have you come?”

“We are to be married. Although I stand against this bartering for my hand, I can’t say I’m against the image I see before me. I’m a strange woman Devlin, I have needs, and I satisfy them. I’ve laid in bed for some nights now, thinking of you and what can happen, and it drives me over the edge so very much, that have to relieve myself quite frankly. Oh don’t look so shocked! Simply put, I want you.”

I walked over poured myself a brandy then turned to look at her. She was a picture of wild innocence, fresh and small, with pouting lips and big green eyes. She moved her leg, and I felt my stomach tighten when I saw a bare leg peeking at me. So she had nothing underneath her. Eighteen years to my twenty three, it was a perfect difference. Here she was, offering me herself and I stood like a green boy, feeling unfamiliar anxiety around a woman. I think her boldness intimidated me. She was to be my wife, little vixen that she was, spreading her legs for lovers, but I loved her intensely, or so I felt that way, and I put the anger I felt at those facts behind and gathered up the damn courage that was fading away. Tossing the last swirl of brandy down my throat, I strode to her and pulled her up and molded her body to mine before I pulled her chin up and heatedly kissed her tempting little mouth. She sighed and pressed herself against me, and I picked her up and almost ran to my bedroom. The night was met with bout after bout of lovemaking. I tried not to think of where she learned of all the things she was doing to me, and the thoughts were easily put behind me as I felt myself slip away into a mental explosion that seared through my body. I half opened my eyes to see her facing the ceiling and gasping as she reached her limit, her hand on her chest, squeezing her n****e as she moaned in completion. Watching her experience her pleasure and taking in her rounded breasts, pale body and her slim, lovely thighs spread on either side of me, was more than I could bear. I was in love with her and I wanted nothing more then to wed her. I felt like a fool for telling myself I loved her, but that’s how I felt.

          Over the next few weeks, we met at nights as often as we could. She was insatiable, and I was eager to put her at ease. Rarely were we seen together during the day, as her father thought it improper. Allysandra and I spent most of our time hot and active, but we also talked and I learned more about her. She loved to paint, and she showed me her paintings when I visited for dinner with her and her father. They were exquisite paintings, mostly of landscapes and some of the sea, usually in a raging storm. I learned that she longed to travel to America and other continents, and I would brush it aside playfully, as all I wanted now was to settle down for as long as I could with her before I had to take leave. I convinced Thornstall that we would have a Protestant wedding, claiming personal, unchanging reasons, but the truth being that I knew a protestant would not involve all the frivolous actions a priest would, such as the use of holy water or the lacing us together in a long rosary with a cross. It would be simple and I would be out of the church in no time. Allysandra didn’t care and went along with whatever her father said. She never talked much about the marriage that was to take place very soon, and I left it at that, knowing that she was drawn into it unwillingly. I believed in time she would come to love me. Thornstall and I had agreed that our business deal would take place until after the wedding, so that the marriage could be main priority.

          Two nights before the wedding, as we lay in her bed eager to make love, she suddenly sat up and looked me. What she said and requested clouded my mind as she spoke and her words sunk in:

“I know you are a vampire Devlin. You hide it well, but I know. I’ve read the stories and though you do not fit all the requirements, there are things about you that make you most assuredly a vampire. You do not expose your skin to the sun, you dislike religious symbols and made sure my father agreed to a protestant wedding"no doubt to avoid anything that would harm you. And I have seen the way you ask your made to prepare your suppers; filet mignon almost raw so that I can see the blood swirling with the sauces. And another thing is you are a lover like no other; you do not tire and you perform so perfectly, like vampires are claimed to be able too. It’s silly I know to believe what stories say, but I know it is true.” She then moved closer to me and kissed me lightly, running her fingers up my chest then back down. “Do you love me Devlin? Be honest with me darling.” Finding my voice I spoke cautiously:

“Allysandra, these things you suppose of me are..”

“Answer me Devlin, do you love me?” I looked in her eyes and felt my heart expand with devotion to her.

“I do love you Allysandra. And although I can try, I will not deny the things you say. I’m a vampire, yes, and it is a curse I bear, to think that one day I will not have you and have to live to feel that pain. But you must think me a monster now, unfit to wed you.”

“Devlin, I do not think you are a monster. In fact, this knowledge excited me more then I could imagine it would. Make me like you. Turn me into what you are and we can live forever together. It is something I want more then anything. Taste my blood Devlin.” I stared at her thought about how it would feel to bite her and to feel her blood spill over and into my mouth. She was pleading with me, her beautiful body offering itself and her eyes tempting me, her words enticing me and giving me joy.

“You know that this is eternal Allysandra. It cannot be changed and you must have control of it, or it will get the best of you. What you ask of me, is something I have desired since the day I saw you. This will make us experience pleasure more powerful than you can imagine. But tell me again, you are positive of this?”

“Yes Devlin, turn me into what you are, I want to live forever! I want to feel that pleasure you speak of! I am positive, drink of me and make me a creature of the night!” She then began kissing me hungrily and sliding her body up mine, enticing me like no other woman ever has. Swiftly, I rolled her under me and kissed her hair, her chest and then her neck. I could smell her blood, fresh and intoxicating, and I plunged into her, making her cry out, and as I moved within her, she offered her neck and I bit, feeling her blood flow into my mouth and into my body, causing me vision to blur with the intensity I felt and I could feel the vibrations that rolled through my body and hers as I turned her and she experienced that rebirth, climbing over the peak of pleasure. Together we tumbled over and I bit into my wrist and offered her my blood, watching her drink greedily. It was night never to be forgotten.

           But here I am now, sitting in my cot with the radio playing a “It’s been a long, long time” by Bing Crosby. It is 1946, and I’m in the U.S. and another world war is in place. I hold a letter in my hand. The letter I was handed the morning of the day I was to wed Allysandra. She had run off with a lover, who happened to be from America; a Mr. Adam Foster ironically. She loved him she said and could not let him go back to America, besides she always wanted to go to America and she knew I didn’t want too, so it was all for the best. She said she tried to love me but couldn’t, especially when one of her old lovers showed up again and offered her this life. Oh yes, but she appreciated that I turned her, it’s made everything so much more real. And she shared her secret with Mr. Foster, who eagerly embraced it, so the both of them have a long life ahead and she hoped I could feel happy for her, seeing as I loved her and such. It still makes me laugh to read that. Such a selfish little b***h, but yes I loved her. I hope never to encounter her, as I would most likely want wrap my hands around her lovely neck and give it a little snap. I must say, I joyfully indulged in my misery, indulging myself with decadence and sharing my sad story with a pretty woman lying in my arms. Then I got a hold of myself and decided to join Britain’s military. I took pleasure in that lifestyle while it lasted, and now I sit here among other soldiers, writing a small autobiography in my journal. I even had some fun and took the liberty of writing what I remember was in James Thornstall’s mind the day he came to me. I can’t wait for the signal that I can get out there and do what I do best nowadays. I’m well on my way to being a general. God knows, I’ve been itching for a fight, but nothing exciting has happened for a few weeks now. I need a smoke d****t. One of my favorite inventions I tell ya. Well hell, no time for a smoke, I hear the air siren!