The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

MEMOIRS OF A FORGOTTEN

Entry 2





I see you survived another night dear journal but, remember this; ever closer are you to the flames than ever I have been. Your pages are marked with the toxin and poisons of my life. If I have not torn you apart by the end of my cycle I dare not think about what horror your words will play upon the next human mind I inhabit; then again maybe they too will find happiness in madness and born ignorant of me.



Madness... Oh how I wish I could slip back into the bliss that is ignorance of what I am, where I am and all that has led me here. Often I miss the woman I had become when I killed my true lord. She was happy, guilt-free, not whole or complete mind you without me... But she was happy, happy with a life and dreams truly of her own. I was blessed to be her, once upon a time.



At the times I think upon her, I hear my true Lord's words at my cradle telling of rebirth and cycles of life and how the human body becomes a host for our forgotten souls. When I think of her as the sun rises over the crest of the horizon, I wish I was her again. I wonder in the back of my mind if she was the woman I was suppose to become.



Had I not remembered any of my past cycles, where would I be now? Would I be sitting at a dead end desk job working eight to six, barely able to scrape enough by to pay the rent and keep a child fed?



...Children...I had never wanted to be a mother. I found myself too different from the true humans to wish my traits passed on. In fact when visions of the past clouded my mind sending my cool chill murderous scream slicing through the night, I had vowed I would not pass my horrors on. The thought of a child going through everything that I remembered including having the thirst... Terrified me. I would not suffer upon my children the horrors of living a life akin to mine, without a guide, without a mentor...Without a third parent as I was blessed with having.



My Lord told me in his experience children of an old soul, whether the parent realizes they are or not, do have the capability of being a host of an old soul. Often however, he stated, that the child is just another carrier of the ability to host and that only rarely would the child manifesting signs that their parent held a old soul. Though both child and parent could themselves be vampiric. He said it was basically unlikely that my child would be like me, saying that it was simply "not often" that the child of an old soul would have one as well.... however, he did mention there were exceptions and that glimmer sent me into panic and swore me off from giving birth.



Only now that I am no longer vampiric does my heart ache that I did not have children when I had the chance. The years get lonely now. They did not use to be but the chill of silence when I awake... It eats away at me and I long for laughter in my halls. The cries of j...



Your pages crinkle as I write that, as if furrowed in some confusion, journal. It's irritating and it is interfering with my writing and enjoyment of my non-existent children.



I wonder what it is that has you so hesitant to accept my ink. Could it possibly be my saying "I am no longer vampiric" yet before I have scribbled upon your surface the words "I am also a vampire" in the previous entry? I would laugh at you had you been a human, unknowing of the world around you and under your nose but since you are merely the toxins of my soul transcribed in an accursed book that dares the flames of my fireplace, I will attempt to explain.



My life under the watchful gaze of my true Lord was that of the vampiric, meaning Vampire-like-but-not-fully and not of the life those of the forgotten race known as vampires lead. My essence craved the energy of life in whatever form it could take; with my mind or with my knife from the willing, did not matter for I would feel weak and pathetic without sating that hunger. I did not need to fulfill that ache in my being, I could deny it and wrap myself in madness as it fought itself free to feed, but I could eat, gain energy the way all humans do and be able to go about my day. However food would not fill me, for always there would be this throb in my essence and the feeling akin to being tired after a marathon but never taking my shoe of the ground.



My third eye was opened, and often would I feel and be able to manipulate the emotions of others without a word spoken. I was able to draw from them, making them lethargic in their tasks. I was able to pick up images from them they would hide and see the little truths they deceived themselves of. If it were not for my true lord, I would have fallen into madness of being unable to decipher my emotions from others, when the veil over that inner eye was lifted.



This is vampiric as it was for me, for I cannot remember the definition my true lord gave me. I was slightly different in my vampirism, I was also a host, an old soul, and my mind was plagued by images of pasts I could not fathom. Visions that seemed almost dreams for they could not possibly be true, would etch themselves across my eyes daring me to lock myself away and call myself insane. My true Lord would claim to his dying day that I was not.... Insane.



I was happy in the madness of ignorance, when I was that woman waiting tables and dancing. I was the happiest when I was insane and unknowing of myself, unknowing of the Forgotten races and unknowing of Vampires.



Perhaps I am still mad....



Bah! I grow tired of this attempting to explain my mortal self through human concepts that do not completely grasp or encompass all of the being that I was! It infuriates me the limit of language to express experience! To express life! Especially a life so different yet so similar to those of a true human! The anger coils about my brain that a mere book has dragged from me an attempt at explaining the unexplainable except through being born to live it! Except by living through it!



I should toss you into the flames and be done with it! Watch as your pages curl beneath the hot tongue of the flames until there is no more of my venom in the ink that is your blood and your flesh that is my story.



... ... ... ...No, dear Journal, looking down upon the page I realize the emotions of the vampiric I surround myself by in order to keep myself safe spur my pen to write so hostilely. They, like I was so many years ago, struggle to define themselves within the constraints of myth, of legend and the limitation of the words all the human languages arm them with. They are a next stage in evolution, where the human mind and soul play a more active and demanding role of their being.



For me, forced to use the term Vampire, I am simply one more evolutionary misstep that for my kind ends in a dead end. My kind cannot evolve any further than our mind allows and what the body of what we were allows; the vampiric by being still human have the ability to evolve past my state, without even entering it wholly. Without being tainted by the mutagen that makes me barren and long lived, the vampiric hold one of the many keys of mankind and hold truly the fate and continued survival of both our species, human and Vampire alike.



I am too weary now to launch into another debate with you, Journal... I must feed to keep up the disguise of not being a Vampire and only just another one of the many mortals who are vampiric. It is more taxing on me to hide from those who are vampiric than true humans. I must put up more shields around my psyche to keep them out and put on more mannerisms that hide me. I sigh when I think that maybe one day i will be lonely enough that I will confide in one of them.... my vampiric friends or maybe go so far as to confide in a true human and end up either way just like my Lord; dead, with my head paraded about a circle of my rivals for my "error."