Hi, I’m Lillian, the author of this tale you are about to read. If you are reading this, it means I am gone. My life, as a vampire is one of sadness, heartache, a few laughs, and much drama. It embarks on my journey as a young female vampire as I lived my life from my birth to the present day. What you are about to read here may shock you, but I want you to know that these are all of my thoughts as they come to me. I am sitting at my desk about to comprise the events which lead from my parents giving birth, to my own child’s death. I hope you enjoy the story and thank you for taking the time to read my journal.
A bleak, cold day in November marked my birth. My mother, so young, full of life, love, and laughter cradled my body to her; her hair still damp from labor. My father watched as my mother held me, a smile on his face. He unwound my mother's arms from around my tiny body and held me close to him. As I grew older, my father would tell me he did that as a comfort for me, to let me know he was there to protect me at all costs, no matter the consequence.
I was still young when my parents taught me how to read and write. We were a poor family, not having much money and though it was against the rules for girls to be educated at that time, my parents felt it was necessary for me to know how to succeed in the world. If I could say this to them now, it would be gratitude because without them, I would never have begun to evolve the way I did.
In March of my twelfth year, my parents held a wedding ceremony. It was not as if they had not been married before, they just wanted a proper ceremony for their daughter to bear witness to. It was as if they felt they needed to prove their love to me. As their only child, I was asked to place the rose petals down on the ceremonial floor. If all things could have gone wrong, it would have to have been this. I had forgotten my flower basket in the Gothic Florentine church. The stained glass windows had been made in 1672, the year of my birth. They pictured the holy man joining hands with the holy woman in matrimony. It was truly a beautiful sight to behold. Awed by the church, I almost forgot the important job I had to do. As I tore my eyes away from the stained glass windows, remembering why I was here, I began to look for my basket. I walked around looking for my basket. Surely it was in the church. As I looked, I felt a strange chill in the room, not sure what the cause of it was, I tried to ignore it the best I could.
When I finally made my way to the front of the church, after looking in all the places I could think of, I saw my basket in the front pew. I sighed in relief and almost cried. I knew that it was just a basket, however, it meant a lot to me. I had the basket from the day I was born. My mother began to handcraft it when she realized she was with child. Whether boy or girl, she was going to give the basket to her first-born. This basket meant more to me than my own life. I would have died to protect the basket. It seems silly now that I look back on it, but I loved the basket, it was the only memory I still had that attached me to my parents.
As I was about to leave, I was attacked. Knocked to the floor, my basket went sprawling across the room, the flowers scattered on the white marble floor, pooled in a pile which resembled blood. When I awoke from my hazy state, I found my parents kneeling over me. My mom was still in her wedding dress and my father was in his tuxedo which was essentially a pair of pants that came down to the knees, and a double breasted coat with a white shirt underneath. Apparently, I had been gone longer than I had realized. My parents had begun to worry and came looking for me. My father started to pick me up and take me out, but his presence was soon lifted away from my frail body. Shortly thereafter, my mother was torn away from me as well. I cried out in anxiety, wondering where they had disappeared to.
A voice, deep, so beautiful. This voice spoke. It confessed that it was the one who killed my parents. I would never see their faces again. My mother, my father, departed before they were supposed to leave this physical plane. I cried silently, the hot, salty tears stinging my face as they slid down.
The voice said that I was to be the saviour of the vampire race. Vampires? I thought. What could those things possibly be? What was this demon?
Finally, the voice came with a face. A dark, brooding face. The voice came out of the shadows and knelt beside me. “I am Christopher.” It said.
Christopher grabbed my wrist, looked at my perplexed expression and brought my body to his. He held onto me and whispered, “Vampires. They are the ones who fed upon human blood for life of their own. I am one of these creatures.”
I was scared, not knowing what I should do. I fought against him. His arms held me in a tight vice, making it impossible for me to break free. He told me he would take care of me and show me the life I had always dreamed of having. All I had to do was take his hand and he would show me. He said for me to call him Chris, he would call me Chille (pronounced She-lay).
As he placed his lips to my neck, his sharp teeth pierced the soft skin; blood slowly trickled down from the holes he made in my neck. After several seconds I felt light-headed. Christopher spoke then. He sounded perplexed. Normally after a vampire bites a human, the vampire can feel the heartbeat. Christopher found no heartbeat within me. Instead of figuring out what I was, Christopher offered me his wrist. Drink, was in his eyes. I shuddered at the thought of drinking blood, but I took his wrist and drank. I felt a new power begin to grow within me. It shocked me at first, but slowly the realization hit me that these vampires were real things. I had just drank the blood of one and now I was one too. I began feeling scared; apparently it showed on my face.
He picked me up, noticing the scared look upon my face and spoke. “I know it is scary at first. I was scared at first when I was turned, but it will all become clear when you find yourself a companion. When you begin to develop your powers more, things will come together. I promise you that.” Slowly, he put me down on the floor.
"A what? Companion? What is that?" I looked up at him curiously, fighting to be as brave as I could.
"If you take my hand, I will show you, I will explain everything. You really have no choice now, you are an orphan and being orphaned in this day and age is dangerous."
Reluctantly, I followed him out of the Church. No sign of my parents’ bodies anywhere, my basket lay on the marble floor long forgotten.
Christopher took me to a world, which I never thought imaginable. A place so beautiful, it was almost a dream. Dark, drab, filled with black, it would soon be my home for many years as I grew and matured into the new vampire I was destined to become.
Several years passed in what seemed like days. Before I knew it, I had been dead one-hundred years. The year was 1765; I, now, a fledgling vampire. In human age I was approximately around sixteen, however, my body, fully developed gave me the aura of a twenty-year-old. Although pale, many men vied to gain my affection. Vampires do not age the same way humans do. They age until their body develops into what humans call “puberty.” Once the puberty stage has hit, the vampire’s body stops developing and they stay the same age forever.
Each night, after sunset, I would dress in beautiful garments. Velvet dresses were my preferred choice. They clung to my full figure, flattering my bust line and my tiny waist. The straps of the dresses would lie just below the shoulder line, accentuating my delicate shoulders. Underneath such dresses I would have on a corset to make my waist appear smaller. In return, it also pushed up my breasts, making it rather difficult to breathe.
Often, I would go to the taverns, bring home bar maidens for Chris, and a man for myself. It would often be hard to choose just one man though, many of them, good looking and several of them, gorgeous. A single night, I remember, I was flocked by several men all at once. One man in particular looked rather appetizing, and in the end I chose him. He had one major flaw; the only thing he wanted from me was my body, which, I expected most of the time, however, he was forceful in his approaches.
I played with him a little, seeing what he would do. He came at me, pinned me against a wall in a back alleyway and demanded to know why a little vixen such as myself was out wandering around during the night. Flashing my fangs at him, I smiled. He gave me a confounded look, which disappeared and turned into a look of hunger. He tried to push up my skirts to get at my innocence but I would not have it. Immediately, I went for his throat. Picking him up with one hand on his neck, the other gripping his shoulder, I dug my nails into his bare flesh. I could feel the blood running beneath my fingers, but I did not care. He had to die. A gurgling sound escaped his lips, then a weak plea for me to let him go. Feeling generous, I let him slump down to the ground and left him there.
In a failed attempt, he grabbed at my skirts trying to pull me back. That was what sent me over the edge. I brought my heel down onto his arm, listening to the bone crack, hearing him attempting to scream, but unable to. I watched him die, waiting for him to take his last breath and finally, assured he was dead; I turned on my heel and walked away. That night, was the turning point in my life. Soon afterwards, things began to go downhill, very quickly.
One early morning, as I lay in bed, trying to sleep, the sound of the front door opening, and closing again caught my attention. Not really ready for what was about to occur, I did the best thing I could think of. I grabbed a dagger that I kept on the bedside table, placed it in the sheath I kept on my upper thigh, and put on my robe. I crept over to the top of the stairs to see what all the noise was. Poking my head around the corner, I drew the dagger, preparing to attack anyone who may have been coming up the stairs. Instead, what I saw disturbed me even more than I could begin to fathom. I saw Christopher sitting on the couch with a young, frail looking woman in his arms. I could hear her soft giggling from the top of the stairs.
Jealousy surged through me as I watched him. He held her close to him, whispering in her ear, much like he had done to me. I put a hand to my throat, trying to catch my breath. I could not bear to look away, I saw him hold her, and begin the changing process, which now appalled me greatly. As he sank his sharp fangs into the jugular vein upon her neck, she emitted a small gasp. He began draining blood from her. Almost immediately, the color of her skin changed from pink signaling human, to pale white. Sheathing the dagger, I could only glare at him as I turned on my heel and walked away from the sight. Normally, I would not be so jealous so quickly, but soon after bringing me to this place, Christopher promised me that he would not take another human and change him or her into a vampire as long as I lived with him. He had broken his promise to me, and I was not about to let it go.
When evening came, I stepped out into the main room, preparing to go out that night to bring home a man. I brushed passed Christopher, about to walk out the door when his voice stopped me.
“Chille, what is the matter? Please tell me what is wrong.” He sounded so pitiful, it seemed as if he knew what was wrong and was now trying to see if he could worm his way out of it.
“Don’t you Chille me, Christopher,” I responded icily, “You have no right to be asking me what the problem is when you clearly already know.”
“Don’t take that tone with me, Lillian. If I did know then I wouldn’t be asking you.” Irritation dripped from his voice, clearly, he did not know what had upset me, however; he was begging to be yelled at with his tone of voice.
Ignoring him completely, I opened the door and walked out. As I slammed the door behind me, I heard him call my name, but I chose to ignore it. I went down to the bars and began flitting around, to calm myself down. After that night, he and I fought constantly. Often, I would threaten to kill the little b***h he had brought into the house, and kill myself to leave him without anyone in his life. Of course, he ignored me and never thought I would go through with it.
Normally, I would not have minded having another woman in the house, if it was someone I had picked out for him. But this girl, this girl was an outrage. He broke his promise to me, and I refused to let it go. However, one day things took a serious sharp turn. Again, he and I were arguing over whether or not she was to be allowed to stay. Finally, I got smart and asked him a question that I knew he couldn’t resist.
“Tell me this, Christopher, why bring her into the house after you promised me you would never have another woman in your life unless I was the one who had chosen her for you? Why do you suddenly feel the need to replace me with this thing?”
“Vindictia is not a thing. She was a person, now a vampire. I am not replacing you; I am trying to give you someone you can teach your tricks to once you leave so that someone can continue on in your place.”
Shaking my head, I walked away. I could not bear to hear any more of his deception; I refused to listen to it. This was the final straw for me; I vowed to kill her that day.
I went upstairs to go into my room for some light meditation. As soon as I opened the door, she was there, sitting on the bed. The room was dark, almost black. The curtains had been drawn, only a single candle illuminated the room. My facial expression changed from one of anger, to one of surprise, and then contempt. I opened my mouth, about to say something, when she said, "Are you my new mother?"
I counted to myself softly to calm myself down, then spoke to her. “No. I am not. Now, kindly get out of my room. I have more important things to do than to deal with you.” She only looked at me and did not move. I picked her up off my bed and put her outside my bedroom door, closing it behind me.
Later that afternoon, when I had cooled off somewhat, I went into the library. The large oak door creaked as it slid open, slowly. Stepping inside quickly, I shut the door behind me. A fire was going in the fireplace. Chris had been in here earlier. His smell drifted throughout the room, but soon was replaced with the musty smell of old books and pipe smoke. Chris smoked? When did he start doing that…I wondered to myself as I began looking through the various volumes of books which lined the seemingly endless shelves.
I had to get revenge on Chris -- revenge for killing my parents, revenge for replacing me with some little girl. After searching for what seemed like hours, I found a book titled Spirit Guide for Revenge. Pulling the book off the shelf, I opened it. The book fell to one page in particular, as though it had been bookmarked for me. “How to conjure a spirit to the mortal realm” was the title. I wondered to myself if this would actually work, but I figured I would look for something else.
I began leafing through the book, trying to find other spirits, but the book kept falling to that specific page. It seemed almost as if the book were calling me, begging me to conjure this particular spirit. In a way it was eerie, but at the time, I was not thinking logically. I was only thinking of how I could get revenge. Following the instructions to make a circle, to call this spirit to the Earth, I prepared myself for what would become the darkest hour in my young life.
When the spirit first appeared, she was transparent, but then she took a solid form. She was fair on the eyes. No real problems with how she looked. Her perfect blonde hair fell in creamy waves about her shoulders, her blue eyes sparkled with levity, her thin hourglass figure draped with a white sundress which came down to the floor. No blemishes marked her creamy features and her mouth exclaimed sensuality. However, this spirit immediately emitted an aura of darkness, evil.
The feeling of her evil created much pleasure within me. The anger I felt earlier began bubbling up inside, soon overflowing at the feel of her power. I could sense the evil; I knew she would be the one who would exact my revenge upon Chris for bringing that wench into our lives. I hated her. She stole Chris from me; I vowed to never let her, or him see the light of day again.
I had no idea what I was about to get myself into…I had no idea what the problems summoning this spirit to the earth was going to cause for me. But I was soon to find out.
“What is your name?” I stared at her for a moment with a quizzical look upon my features, as I spoke to her in my native tongue, German.
“Archia,” she responded.
“Will do you something for me?” I tilted my head curiously, eyes widened in shock that the spell actually worked. She looked at me strangely, and proceeded to ask me what I wanted her to do. I began to explain what had been happening over the last few months and years. She became aggravated by the explanation.
Without a word, she pulled out a black wand with a black star on it. Her features changed to that of her natural form. Her face was contorted into an inaudible scream, her eyes narrowed, glowing black with hatred. Her once beautiful blonde hair turned black, and began flowing around her head as though there was a gust of wind blowing at her back. Watching as she floated out of the room and took a humane form, my eyes widened considerably. She walked over to Christopher and demanded why I had been treated so badly.
Chris watched and listened, glaring darkly at the spirit and not realizing I was in the room. He swore at her in German, Latin, and English. Inside, I was slightly happy for him, but at the same time, I wanted my revenge. She took her wand and struck him over the head. He was knocked out from the blow.
Suddenly, spikes appeared on the handle of the wand she held in her hands. I stood there watching, wondering why it did not cause any pain to her. I shook my head then closed my eyes a moment, too soon, for in that moment one of the spikes from the wand hit Chris directly in the chest. On his heart, a fatal blow. As he gasped out of pain, she smiled triumphantly. Chris was dying and there was nothing I, or anyone else could do to save him.
Muttering that she ought to leave now, I had lowered my head as my eyes held more contempt, a more murderous look than they had ever held before. She had done what I had wanted her to do, but I did not expect her to do it. I had summoned her out of anger and rage, not having fully calmed down enough to analyze the situation. My companion…or so I hoped would have been my companion was killed.
"Oh, my child," She said softly, returning to her normal form. "I cannot leave you to be brought up alone. I must raise you as my own child." She had claimed this to me, only because I looked frail and she expected me to go back with her to her realm of spirits.
Glaring darkly at her, swearing at her in Latin first, I closed my eyes to begin to chant the counter-spell to remove her from the Earth. She glowered at me before she disappeared, leaving her wand behind. As soon as she was gone, the wand slowly started to disintegrate. I stared wide-eyed at what was left after the wand had disintegrated into nothing more than dust. "I Will Return for You One Day…So be Waiting and Be Alive" Was all that was left. As quickly as the message appeared, it disappeared.
I rushed to Christopher's side; he still had a bit of light left in him. Reaching for the spike in his heart to remove it, he reached up pushing my hand away.
“No," he croaked then coughed, "Do not touch it. I want you to get out of here. Take Vindictia with you, she needs you more than ever. Please take care of…."
Those were his final words. He never spoke another word again. His blood surrounded his body. There was nothing I could do. I just sat back upon my knees looking at the grotesque sight of his death. Vindictia came into the room and gasped at the sight of him laying on the floor, dead. She cried, came to me, clinging to my dress. “Lillian, what’s wrong with him!” she wailed, hiding her face under my arm.
I sighed, "Vindictia…I am sorry" was the last thing I said to her that was halfway decent. I shook my head and snapped her neck in a clean swipe. I had to get her out of my life. There was no way I could keep her with me. She would bog me down and I would never be able to get a well-paying job that way. I held her limp body in my arms and laid her gently on her side and made her look like she was asleep.
Walking away, a sudden dizziness spell hit me. Falling, I hit the ground, and when I awoke, I was in a hotel with a man sitting next to me on the bed. He was waiting for me to awake. He smiled softly at me and patted my hand gently.
"W-who are you?" I was weak, but I managed to speak briefly.
"I am Brian." There was a hint of a British accent in his voice, but what struck me, were his crimson eyes. A hue so beautiful I dared not to look away. I just never understood the fascination until it was much later when he left why his eyes were so mesmerizing. After a while, I closed my eyes again and when I awoke, he was gone. No note was left. I knew I had to pursue him eventually to thank him for his kindness. I believed he was the owner of the hotel I woke up in, but I was not sure. I wandered around for several years before heading to Paris.
It was now the year 1880. I was in Paris, France, to start over again. I wanted to put the death of Christopher out of my mind for good. I felt guilty about his death and did not with to continue living, but I knew I had to; I needed to find that crimson-eyed stranger again. I had a cousin living in Paris, I was looking for her, but I was taken in one night by a man who I thought felt sorry for me, for he allowed me to work in his bar even though I was underage.
There was a catch, however. He wanted me to "be his woman" as he put it. He wanted me to love him unconditionally with no strings attached to my heart. But there was a problem. I still loved Chris, and I missed him with all my life. He was my soul, my heart, my body.
The bartender never knew how much I truly cared about him because I never really said anything about my past. I rarely ever spoke except to take the orders from the patrons in the bar. The bartender would often try to pry information out of me, but to no avail. My heart was broken into a million pieces it seemed. I knew deep down that only a new love could cure me, but I had yet to find that particular person. I eventually quit working at the bar, in fear that people who frequented the bar would figure out I was a vampire, feeding off the non regular customers to stay alive. I also wanted to keep moving, I wanted to get to some place new, a place I could really call home. A place that I could just be me, a place to go, be alone and have no worries as to what people thought of me. I always received strange looks for the way I dressed, how I carried myself, how I spoke. The one thing that kept me going, the one thing that I knew was to be there for me was Brian. I had to see him again. I wanted to watch those crimson eyes dance over me. I wanted to feel him within me. He was gorgeous. The night I quit working, I was out wandering around, looking at the various ads on the streets. That night something amazing happened to me. Something that would change my life forever.
I ran into an old friend. Christopher’s brother, Julian. It had been ages since I had seen him. I was but a young vampire the last time I saw him. He and Christopher had been in a rather lengthy fight. Afterwards, Julian left. I did not see him after that until this night. I had forgotten how strangely beautiful he was. His pure black hair with his deep blue almost purple eyes, those slender hips and that mouth, his mouth, oh that mouth could capture even the most sinister of women into the kiss of death. His finely chiseled facial features, the slender jaw line, and the all too familiar platinum armband that was on his upper left arm that distinguished him from all others.
It was something about the way he was dressed. His black dress shirt with the black dress pants, which hugged his slender hips. Those black boots that make no sound on the cobblestone road. It was just too much to bear. He was too beautiful to even describe in words. As it is, it is hard to talk about it now.
I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him. His arms snaked around my waist pulling me closer into his embrace. I felt safe within that moment. I knew then that he was the one I had been searching for. It truly was a new beginning. I was happy for the first time in a long while. Christopher had made me happy, but just being in Julian’s presence reminded me so much of him. True happiness, at least so I thought. For just then, my cousin Arlena came sauntering up. She was my father’s sister whom had been changed by a vampire out in the undiscovered country. She never fit in with our family. We were brought up in the proper society, she living on the outskirts doing as she pleased. I received word from her and thusly I went to Paris to try to find her. I never managed to find her until the night with Julian. As she came sauntering up, her hips swaying to and fro with her cutesy skirt which was forbidden at the time. Women were expected to wear dresses and hold themselves like ladies. She merely wore what she felt like that day. She shot her flirting gaze at Julian and I knew then, she instantly hooked him. I could only stand helpless and watch as the man whom I thought I would be with for the rest of my life was taken away in a single swipe. Little did I know they were together.
Right before my eyes, Julian let go of me, the warm, happy embrace I was once in, now gone, vanished. He went to her, their lips locking immediately. “Darling!” he called, wrapping her up in his arms.
“Oh Julian,” was her only reply as I watched her kiss him repeatedly. My eyes burned with a fire I had not felt since the day I summoned Archia. I was very tempted to summon her once more, but remembering how painfully Christopher looked as he lay on the floor, I could not bear to put anyone through it again. I walked away from Arlena and Julian, wishing to give them privacy, but more so just to get away from the sight of lovebirds kissing.
After leaving them, I had taken a boat from Paris to the New World. America. It sounded so foreign. So new, so interesting. As soon, I set foot on the soil I knew I was home. I was unsure of the year. All I knew was that it was no longer 1880. I began looking around the harbor and saw nothing but fliers written in a language I couldn't read. I believe it was English. I tried to read them, but I soon gave up and went some place where I would be able to learn this language. I came upon a shop with a sign that was written in German. Finally! Something I could read! It read that there was a war going on and they needed nurses to take care of the wounded soldiers on the field.
I was elated. I could help! But then I began thinking. ‘What if I looked like a man…I could easily fool the people and get to the front lines.’ I thought this over for a while then began walking towards a tavern not far from where I was.
In the tavern, every person turned to look at me. Some men howled, others whistled. Bristling slightly, I sighed and ignored them. The woman behind the counter began speaking in the language I could not understand. There was a man sitting at the bar sipping on an Ale. He spoke back to the woman; I think he was explaining to her that I could not understand the language. How could I possibly know? I couldn’t understand a word he was saying.
He turned to me and spoke clear German. “Hallo! Sie sprechen Englisch. Sie können nicht verstehen?” Hello, she is speaking English, you cannot understand?
“Ja, ich kann nicht verstehen. Schade Herr…?” Yes, I cannot understand, Sadly, Mr…? Mr. James-Alexander.
Thank you, Mr. James Alexander, you are my angel.
Alexander laughed. It was a deep throaty laugh, one of beauty, yet refined. It was a laugh a fine gentleman would be. I looked down at myself and sighed. I looked like a ragamuffin who had been picked up off the streets. I shook my head, but then James-Alexander spoke,
Allow me to take you out tonight. It would be an honor to take you out to dinner this evening.
But, I look like a ragamuffin who has just stepped in off the streets! I replied, looking perplexed.
Nonsense. I will take you to the tailor shop down the block and have you fitted for your new gowns. Don't say no because I want to make you beautiful.
I was going to protest, but he held up his hand. Taking my hand in his, he led me out of the tavern and down the road to the tailor shop. I ran my hands over the various velvets. All James-Alexander did was smile. He instructed the woman in the native tongue to help us. She took a tape measure; measuring my waist, bust, and hip line taking down the measurements. I could only watch in awe as she worked quickly. Within moments, she had several dresses made in different colors. Taking them, I hurried into a dressing room. One by one I tried them on. Each time I modeled the dresses. James-Alexander gave me an approving smile.
The dresses were in black, gold, sapphire, emerald, ruby, silver, amethyst, and garnet. All were made to fit me just right. I was very pleased. I went to pull out my money I had found laying on the streets to pay for it but James-Alexander stopped me. No.
Why? I looked at him again, confused.
He switched to English suddenly. I realized I couldn’t understand him and I began speaking in rapid German. He looked at me irritated and began arguing with me in German once more. Finally, he sighed and stepped back. He had given in, allowing me to pay for the things he had the tailor make for me.
Taking out my money, I paid the woman who looked almost shocked as before when she heard me speaking German. I packed the dresses up gently and walked out leaving James-Alexander standing there. He had wounded me. Not physically, but emotionally, I would not stand for it. I have my own ideas and my own ideals. It is not worth it to me to be with someone who is going to hurt me every single time I am with them.
I went back to the tavern, which James-Alexander had taken me from. As I entered, I ignored the annoying whistling and howling. I placed some of my money on the counter top and was given a key to a room. Heading up there, I changed then came back down. As soon as I came back down into the tavern, the entire place went quiet. I must have been very pale for one man came rushing to my side and ushered me to a seat. His crimson eyes were filled with concern. His British-English accent was thick, and I could still not understand what he was saying.
I began speaking in German again, but he only put a finger to my lips to silence me. Ignoring my pleas, he looked at me again then carried me up to his room where he laid me down upon his bed sitting next to me. His eyes said it all, “I know what you are…a vampire.”
He left me for a moment, and when he returned, he sat beside me once more and helped me into a sitting position. He placed the glass to my lips and helped me drink the wine that was inside. Eventually, my eyes regained some of their liveliness, and my normally pale skin was the right shade of white. Something must have been in the wine because I could taste the energy as I drank it.
He smiled, and set the glass aside. I tried to say something, but before I could say a word, his lips were on mine in a soft, gentle, loving kiss. I pulled away and looked at him. He looked back at me, and my eyes seemed to say, "Why did you just do that?"
He did not respond, only looked me in the eyes. I was slowly beginning to fall. I felt like I was falling into an abyss, the abyss of his eyes. Suddenly it hit me; it was the man from before, the one with the crimson eyes, Brian. I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in his chest. His arms came around me and held me to him. I had come home. This is where I belonged.
Lillian set her quill pen down. She sat back from her desk and smiled. Her autobiography up to where she met Brian was complete. She thought about putting in what transpired between them. She picked up her quill pen and began once more.
During my stay in the city, I never left Brian’s side. He and I were the talk of the town. A man who was said never to have his heart tamed, had become as gentle as a kitten. He was a beautiful man. More beautiful than Christopher, Julian, and James-Alexander had ever been.
Often, we would sit down together and he would teach me how to speak English. I would many a time mispronounce words and he would be patient enough to correct me. He was a gentle fellow and was a wonder when I was alone with him on the city streets. Brian reminded me a lot of Christopher, but he was nothing like him. Brian wasn’t the cheating type. He swore that one day he would make me his. In other words, he would claim me as his girl. I was very happy. I thought things could not get any better. The years passed by, as if time was of no meaning to us. He and I were happy, so very truly happy. Until one night, where things went wrong, horridly wrong. We spent many years together. We constantly moved around to keep people from guessing our age. We continued our lives together all the way up to the present time of 2005.
The words on the page blurred as tears misted over her eyes; she was remembering the short period of time where Brian left to go to Louisiana. He was gone for several days, almost a month. She forced herself to continue writing.
Brian left for Louisiana. He said he had some things he needed to take care of. What it was, he would not tell me, but it saddened me so to see him leave. I sat around idly for the time he was gone. When he returned, something was not right within my body. Several times before, we had made love. Before his departure, the night before was when I knew something was wrong. He was much more gentle than normal; he seemed to me as though he thought I would break in his fingertips like a glass statue. The next day, his weight was not next to me. I went looking around for him, only to find that he was gone. He had left a note for me, but now it is so tear stained that it is illegible and I cannot recopy what it is that he wrote.
I went about doing my daily chores and routines. Keeping the house we shared in perfect order. Honestly, I had nothing to do. I was keeping myself busy so I would not go insane. It was murder not having him there. There was no one to comfort me, no one to talk to. So very hard to deal with, but somehow I pulled through.
When he returned to me from Louisiana, he was a changed man. Until he had gone, I had no clue what was wrong with my body. I was so achy, constantly running to the bathroom due to nausea. I gave in, going to the doctor, that is when I found out I was pregnant. When he had returned, I decided to break the news to him. "Brian, darling, we need to talk."
Brian looked up from the book he was reading. His gaze was steady upon mine. "Yes, my love, what is it?"
"Brian…I might be…well with child."
"You mean…I am going to be a father?"
All I could do was nod. He tossed the book across the room, came to me, and gathered me into his arms pulling me tightly in his embrace. He scared me in all honesty; I was not expecting him to react this way.
“I am very pleased, Lillian. I could not be happier." He leaned down and kissed me and let me go.
I stumbled backward, and smiled at him. "I am glad you are pleased. I was afraid you were going to be upset."
"No, of course not. Why would I be? My lovely wife is pregnant with my child. I couldn't be happier."
So it came to be that I was pregnant. I now look over at the photos of Brian and me together before the baby, and the ones taken afterward. We were so happy, until we got the news that she had passed away in a car crash. It devastated Brian, but me more so. There are only a few things that can kill vampires. Disease, poison, car wrecks and eventually dying of thirst.
I was stuck in bed for months not wanting to do anything but sleep. I could not believe my only baby girl was dead because of some moron who had to go out and drive drunk that one night. She was too young to die. Way, too young.
After my mourning had passed, Brian pulled me out of my hiatus and took me to see an Opera. The Phantom of the Opera. It was a beautiful story and I enjoyed myself very much.
Brian unfortunately did not enjoy it so much, but he sat there with me until the end. I loved my husband very much, and I miss him every day since his departure. He and I would do much like Christopher and I used to. But instead of me going out alone, Brian would come with me for hunting. I would take men, he would take virgin women. Something about virgin blood made him extremely lustful afterwards and we often would make love after hunting, the blood of our victims melding together.
He left me almost twenty years ago to go back to Louisiana where he had a young girl waiting for him. He had found her while he was there trying to get himself healthy again. You see, he was born with what he liked to call a demon, something that would only appear if he was not keeping his rage in check. Before he left for the last time, we had a rather abusive fight. He ended up backhanding me across the face and walked away. I stood there watching him, knowing full well those would be the last words I would ever speak to him.
I have no malice now, just the pain of losing him. I miss Brian dearly, but I know I can go on without his strength to back me up. Achina never did return for me. I am not entirely sure whatever happened to her, but either way, I am glad she never came back. I never heard from my cousin or Julian again, I could only assume that they were happily married and died together in Paris, from what cause, I know not of.
- Title: No Malice Left
- Artist: Lily-Anne-Marie
- Description: A story I have been working on and finally finished my sophomore year in college. Please be honest!
- Date: 10/26/2008
- Tags: nomalice