Chapter 1: My own Grave
I thought before I left that night it would be fitting if I visited the gravesite and gravestone my mother had gotten for me to protect my secret so people would think I had died. There was even a funeral with an empty casket as a sort of seal upon the whole thing. I didn't attend of course, but she did, and wept like a madwoman as she put it. 50 years, it's been 50 years since she died. I miss her still. The moon gave shadows onto the gravestone, giving it a haunting sort of air. Her grave was right next to mine, and whenever I left the house, I would go to her grave site and then I would clean and weed it and make it look pretty.
"Now what would a nice young lady like yourself being doing at this dreadful hour?" a voice asked. I looked around and saw an old woman with a shawl around her shoulders walking up to me.
"I was just visiting a grave," I replied, trying to hide my face. I shouldn't have had to say anything at all, but carrying on a conversation stemmed my urge for human blood.
"Her grave has been here for over 50 years, its right next to her mother's grave," the old woman said, "she died so young. it's a shame. Her mother's heart broke on that day. Did your parents or someone close know her?"
"Yes, I knew them. I mean, my mother knew them," I said.
"As did my grandmother," she said, "my mother told me all sorts of stories that had been passed down from her mother, and I passed them down to my children, and they shall do the same. These two, the mother and daughter pair, they did wonderful things to help our village. Her mother worked by day and her daughter worked by night." That was true. I bowed my head slightly, it had been known to my mother I couldn't go out in the sunlight, so she did her working by the day and then I would keep to the night. My mother explained when it was once inquired about that I was sensitive with my eyes and functioned best in the dark. I never had to worry about thieves or rapists or kidnappers. one messed with me once, when I was 15, and they never lived to tell about it again. I found it easy to cover up. they believed my father had done it and my mother did her best to console me once I realized what I had done. I killed a man. that wasn't something to be proud of, but my vampire blood in me did say otherwise.
"Why are you here?" I asked the old woman, "Surely this time of night is not safe for you as well."
"I shall be fine. No one wishes to pick on little old me," she said and smiled kindly at me, "I shall leave you to your prayer." Prayer couldn't be for me. I wasn't someone who prayed. I looked back at the graves as she walked her slow walk away from the cemetery. I felt the urge for blood rise in my veins, so I pulled out of my pack a bottle of chicken's blood and drank deeply. Human blood was calling out to me, but I couldn't do that. This chicken blood would have to suffice.
I turned back towards the graves and knelt by mine and then by my mothers. Her casket was full at least. I placed at her grave some flowers I had picked on the way and laid them down. I wouldn't be around anymore to tend to her grave and keep it clean. It would fade away in time just like all the other graves in this cemetery. The world would move on and forget about her, and I had to move on as well.
"I promise when I find my answers I shall come back and clean up your grave mother," I whispered as I stood once again, picking up my pack and putting the chicken blood back with the other things. I wiped the blood away from around my mouth and licked it off of my hand. I wasn't about to wipe it on my black ensemble. Sure, no one would see it but it'd still be there. The smell of it would probably drive me crazy as well, so it was best not to waste any and face repercussions later.
I walked away slowly from the gravesites and out of the graveyard. That place was a bad omen sometimes.

Leaving my home was hard. I made sure to lock up anything that I didn't take with me in our basement and then I carried the key with me. I walked past familiar shops, the tailors and the grocers that lined the street, all places I used to go in the night. The moon hung over my head, signaling night would be about us for a little while longer before I would need to see shelter. It was a pale yellow and a little halo of clouds encompassed its outer edge. If I was lucky, and tomorrow it was a dark rain, I could make better time and get a farther distance. I knew I couldn't make the journey by foot, I should require a horse or some other mode of transportation soon.
Mother had made sure that I knew how to ride from an early age, so a horse would suit me just fine. I just needed to find one, but I realized I couldn't yet, not until I was into Europe a little farther, across the body of water that separated our town, within the country of Britain, from the world. I arrived at the solemn gates of the village, dead to the entire world but me. I knew these gates; my mother often took me here and told me about the world that lay outside our own.
I took my first step past the gates, it was momentous for me.
"By my village," I whispered as I headed off into the black night.

I arrived in London in the early of the morning. The sun had yet to rise and the gray overcast hung like a thick fog. I knew it was London from the gatekeeper at the entrance to the city. I hoped I could find what I needed here to continue to where I was being called. I only hoped it would stay gray and overcast so I could do my dealing with the folks of the day and not with the unknowns of the night.
"Hey pretty girl, what are you doing out so late?" a voice purred behind me. I turned around to see a disheveled man holding a bottle. My need for blood arose once again but I knew nothing of him and he might have family. I held back and slowly tried to move away.
"Where are you going? You should come and stay at my place, I'll take care of you good," he continued, "Can't you speak?"
"You wouldn't want to know who I am," I said softly.
"Oh, I think I do," he said, and moved towards me.
"Do you have any family?" I asked, feeling the need hum through my body and I had the urge like nothing before. Something was pushing me to kill this man.
"Nope, never did, say, we can start one!" he said and began to make his way towards me. The urge for blood rose in me like a feeling I had never felt anymore. He came and pinned me against the wall, and I did not think to draw my sword, I would let my natural defenses kick in. As he began to try to hurt me, I let my fangs grow to their natural length. I felt his life-force, strong though he was weak.
"Do you really want to mess with me?" I asked through my teeth.
"Oh yes." came his voice and I turned his head and lunged for his neck, piercing the skin upon contact. The blood began to seep into me; I felt his life-force emptying into me. It tasted good, sweet and sour at the same time. The blood spilled a bit out of the side of my mouth, a crimson red liquid tainted with black. This is wrong, this is wrong but it feels so right, an instinct. an unbearable instinct. I had to kill him, I couldn't let him live now. I drew out more of his blood, ignoring his piercing cries and begging for mercy.
I pulled away and wiped the blood from around my mouth. It didn't matter anymore, the deed was done, and he was worthless, a worthless man who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Besides, his blood tasted good, really good. It was just right to satisfy my wants. Oh no, what did I do? I backed up closer to the wall and let the body flutter away from my and fall limply and lightly to the floor. I just took a human life again! I reached into my pack and pulled out my mother's necklace, unhooking the clasp and putting it on, as if that would comfort my feeling of remorse and guilt.
I sank to the pavement and kept myself from crying. I had to find a place to stay before the sun came up, a place to wash the blood from my hands and my mouth. Dear god, I wish I was home!