I, Vampire Ch. 01: Beginnings
Prolog
My story is a simple one, but it covers many years – for I am not like mortal men. I have lived and survived countless lifetimes over the centuries, and I have been present when events of great import in mortal history have taken place. But always in the shadows, hidden from the unquestioning fear and hatred of mortals.
I have known the hatred of the Church and the love of women – both mortal and immortal. I will never know the wonder of children, for I can produce no offspring – not in the normal fashion.
My tale is one of tragedy and triumph – glorious victory and humiliating defeat – hatred and love – courage and fear. It is the story of a lifetime – my lifetime, a very long and unusual lifetime.
I , like the rest of my kind, am a warrior, a predator. We are kin to the panther, the wolf and the eagle. My prey is mortal mankind – I must have blood to survive. While any blood will nourish me, but only on human blood will my kind thrive.
My name is of little importance, except perhaps to me, for I have been known by countless names, in countless lands down through the centuries. For this tale, I shall call myself Thomas.
I am a creature famed in myth and legend – written about in books – played upon t he stage and screen. I have been depicted in many aspects, from the hideous to the comely. I have been given many names – Nosuratu – undead – night walker – blood sucker.
Vampire.
Beginnings
You have heard many folk tales about my kind, most are false, others have lost much of their truth through years of telling and retelling. I will reveal nothing to you that would endanger me of my kind. Suffice it to say that we can be a grave danger to mortal man, but we can be a strong and willing friend as well.
The choice will always be yours.
My powers, and there are many, are drawn from two sources; blood, and the night.
What, you might ask, are my powers? I shall never tell you al of them, but I will tease you with a few. I am, as are al of my kind, able to assume the aspect of any creature upon whom we have fed. We are able to travel great distances, borne only by the mists of the night. Our eyes are able to reach into the human soul and capture it, bending the human to our will. We are able to sire more of our kind – the simple gift of a few drops of our blood, brings with it eternal life as one of us. Oh yes – one other power that seems to fascinate mortals, we, male and female alike, are able to hold back our sexual climax for an indefinite period, or release it at in an instant. An interesting power to say the least, but not without its drawbacks.
Me? I was sired toward the end of the seventeenth Century. I was a strapping young man of one score and six years and already an adventurous sort. My mortal life began as one of seven offspring in what is now the southern part of the United States. At that time it was but a group of settlements.
Although well born and possessed of an education, I chose the life of a seafarer when I was twenty and had spent six years before the mast of one of His Britannic Majesty’s ships of war. When we were attacked by pirates the ship was damaged quite badly, it foundered when a squall overtook us in the Indies. I was washed ashore on an uncharted island off the coast of what is now Florida. It was here that my life would be forever changed.
I was hunting in the northern part of the island. It was probably Spanish territory then, and I would not, I supposed, be treated well should I be found there. The land was lush then, green and unspoiled, teeming with wildlife. Great cats, what you now call the Florida Panther, abounded, as did deer, rabbit, all manner of birds, and, of course snakes. It was this latter creature that would begin the most important turn that my life would ever take.
It was fast approaching dusk, I was crossing a stream – fast moving and knee deep. My foot slipped between two slick stones and I fell into the stream. I managed to free my foot, but my thrashing had awakened a nest of snakes. They were wriggling toward me – a great number of them – and they were angry at being disturbed. No fewer than six snakes attacked me, their fangs piercing my flesh and injecting their venom into my veins.
I was able to fling them from me and scramble ashore – but I knew it was too late. As I lay on the bank I could feel the poison burning through my body. It was then I first saw my savior – and the one that would sire me.
She burst from the underbrush and stood there an instant before rushing to my side – a sharp knife in her hand. I assumed that I was about to be scalped after all. But she knelt beside me and cut open each puncture where poison had entered my body. She sucked the venom from me and spat it, contemptuously, to the ground. Again and again she opened my veins, until there was no more venom to extract – but it had done its damage. I was weak, unable to move or speak, but I could see. The sight I beheld was one of absolute beauty. Her hair was long, the color of spun copper. Her eyes were bluer than blue, deep, dark, mesmerizing. Her skin was a light bronze color, almost golden. She looked like a native but her features were much finer.
Tenderly she stroked my brow, her touch as soft as the finest silk and as light as a feather. I lay there, my head in her lap, gazing at the most beautiful breasts I had ever seen. Proud breasts, firm breasts, breasts that could set a mans blood to boiling. They were topped with nipples the length and breadth of my thumb. I could feel the firm muscles of her thighs as they cradled my head. I could see the slight curve of her belly as it moved in and out with each breath she took.
As I lay there – dying, yet staring at this vision – she smiled down at me. Her eyes took on a glow and I noticed that her teeth were abnormally long and sharp. With a long thumb nail, she slit open her soft flesh just below her left breast. She lowered her lips to my throat. There was a slight pain at first as her teeth entered my jugular vein, then a floating sensation as she drank deep of my life’s blood. I could feel the life leaving my body as her lips sucked and drank. I knew I was about to die – and I didn’t care.
As I felt myself crossing over, she lifted my head to her breast, as if driven by some instinct, I drank deeply of her flowing blood.
It was as if I was reborn, which of course I was, as the strength flowed back into my body. I was more alive, stronger, keener than I had ever been before. I looked at this beautiful and strange woman, and she spoke, to my mind.
“I am Flower of the Moon,” she said, her eyes locked on mine, “I have made you one of my kind tonight, otherwise you would have died.”
“I did die.” I thought, not realizing that she could read my thoughts.
“Yes, and then you were reborn as one of us – one of the undead.”
My mind reeled for an instant as I let this sink in. I had heard the term before, but always dismissed it as a wives tale, or a myth to frighten children.
“You will age no more,” she told me. “You will have dominion over mortals, and together we will rule the night.
I sat up, looking at her deep eyes gazing into mine, I felt the magnetism of her – her eyes – her body.
She held her arms open to me, “Be my Prince,” she invited me.
I accepted the invitation.
