Lust

Chapter One: Time Lapse 1

Summary: Sometimes I wish I could be human again. To be able to experience my life instead of it being cut off at eighteen. Sometimes I wish I could go back in time and fix my mistakes. Sometimes, I wish I didn't drink their blood and take their lives.

Sometimes, life is harder when you have eternity to think about your problems. Life, love, betrayal and darkness are all running hand in hand.

I am your nightmare. The vampire.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

I was asked by a teacher to write a story, a story about me. I found my life boring, and myself uninteresting so I hurried through the first paper, handing them in only after a week. But she handed them back to me and said I could do better and I could show her what, who I really am. So, when I returned to my new computer, I set out to write down my story.

Yes, I might say my life is boring, but others would not. See, I am not who many people know me. I am normal, but not normal to those outside my kind. I am one of the few left of my kind, a vampire to be exact. I’ve only met six others like me, so we do not live as plentiful as some would image. And contrary, we do not all act like blood thirty people, as some authors (Anne Rice) believe us to be. Yes, we do drink blood but not all of us drink as often, or some of us don’t drink human blood. And yes, we do have the little mind reading powers, super strengths, and things like that. When one of us is created, any gifts we might’ve had in our human life are intensified when we are reborn. We also eat and drink normal things as any other person, we do sleep and we can come out into the sunlight and not be burned by it.

I am not an ancient, as some might think. Compared to the others, I am the youngest, recently made into them. Although I am more than ninety years old, but I look like I am eighteen. And I was, when I was reborn. But for you to understand why I chose to be changed, you need to take a step back in time with me, to see the ‘full’ picture of things.

-December 12th, 1897-

The year of my birth was a long and cold one. It was late, late in the night when my mother said I was born. The chilling wind had made her push and contract with pain as the hours drifted farther away. My father was out in the barn, hiding away with the other men who came to make sure everything was all right. But the women stood around my mother’s bed, holding hands and whispering chants to protect both her life and my own.

They said when I came out (feet first, when was bad luck in our tiny town), I wasn’t breathing. The doctor had slapped me on the bum, and then dunked me into the bucket of warm water. The shock was enough to make me cry out. They said that was the beginning of the darkest days in their lives.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

-November 15th, 1905-

I must’ve been around eight years old when I was nearly killed by the townspeople. They told me they didn’t want to kill me but they had no choice. I was the reason why their crops were dying, cattle dying, or some other insane thoughts they came up with. One came closer to me, a young girl just a year older than me. Her eyes were dark, hateful and I stepped back, afraid for my life. I stepped off the dirt curb, watching them as they advanced forward.

“Leave her alone!” a voice shouted from the alleyways. I didn’t know it until ten years later but he was my savior, my master who created me. But as I stepped farther away, he rushed forward, making the crowd whoosh back a moment. He swept me up into his hardened arms, hugging me close to his chest. I shivered, the cold wrapping around my tiny legs.

“She is just a child but she’s the cause of all of our damages!” The people cried out, pushing forward and catching him. He stepped back, cursing beneath his breath and he hissed, straight hissed at the people. They stopped, staring in surprise before glowering. I gulped back my childish sob and gripped his collar.

“It’s going to be all right,” he whispered into my ear, his breath tickling the skin and made me shiver again. I remember peeking from the cover of my fingers to realize it was getting darker, the sun had set and twilight was giving way to the night. It was then that I felt him shift. It was weird, I could feel his skin rippling then ripping, his clothing shredding and forming to his new skin. I gasped and squirmed in his grasp but he refused to let me go.

“Stop,” he hissed, making me go limp in his arms. I held an iron grip to his neck and collar and he had to pull my tiny hands for me to loosen the grip. A couple steps backwards he went and the ground moved quickly. “Hang on,” he kissed the lobe of my ear to get my attention and I nodded into his shoulder.

I don’t remember what happened next. I awoke, snuggled close to a darkly clothed figure. I gave a whimper and rubbed my eyes, feeling weak and tired. The figure moved, sitting up and glancing down at me before standing. Oh! It was that man who saved me last night!

“Wait! Mister, please wait!” I gasped, falling over the edge of the bed or couch. He glanced over his broad shoulders to give me a confused or surprised look. I galloped to his side and grabbed his waist, hugging him tightly.

“Thank you Mister! Thank you for saving me!” I gushed, feeling my throat tighten. He gulped and lightly patted the top of my head before squatting down to my level. It was the first time I noticed his eyes. I reached out, forgetting my manners at that moment. His eyes, oh, they were dark, coal black to be exact. I must’ve gasped or made some kind of face because his hand moved with great speed and caught my tiny hand gently.

“It would be best if you forgot me,” he whispered, his left hand against my temple. I shivered against his cold touch and blinked.

“Why?” I asked, blinking tears into my eyes. He shook his head and whispered,

“Come find me in ten years.”