The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

Story
05:26 Mar 25 2014
Times Read: 349






Long ago there was a man. Not a particularly interesting man, nor a man of amazing character. He was a simple man who resided in a simple forest, by a simple lake, in a simple house, and with simple desires.



He would come and go into the forest as time would have during the day, and gather that day's food. He would gather the nuts, the leaves, and harvest animals (should any be ensnared by his traps), or enjoy a quiet afternoon siting by the lake fishing for the night's dinner.



When night would come, he would cook his meal, and he was happy. Not the kind of happy that most humans tend to say happy. A deep happiness that comes from an uncluttered life. That soft warmth that only a life with order and direction can produce. To wake up in the morning and to know for certain what was to be done. Opening a door to look out and be unable to stop the smile coming across your face from a deep calm. A happiness that swelled from the chest and kept the face soft, and the eyes relaxed. I suppose a human might call this content. This man was content with his life. One can imagine, my dear reader, this kind of happiness. You can feel that joy of simplicity. You can imagine a contentment that starts from the center of your chest, devoid of the clutters of "civilization." Smiling, and happy.



Then he would begin to play his flute and sing. The melody was a nice one. Not overly complicated, but a good melody. Full of the vibrancy of life and the morning breeze. Of canary yellow suns, cotton clouds, and of sky reflecting the very waters he knew to be blue as sapphire. Wide and wild of his world. Yet with the melody came the sound of calm and soft contentment. The melody was cheerful and calm.



Then one night, a night unlike other nights, the man decided to play his flute by the lake. He wanted to see the stars reflected in the waters. It was not that he had never done this before. It just so happened that on this night he didn't know it was a special occasion.



The man found a nice stump, one he had used several times before when he decided to play by the lake. It was the right time of night, with the stars shining beautifully in the sky. No clouds to hide the stars. No moon to detract of the star's display. A truly beautiful night. It was to this wonderful audience the simple man played his simple melody into that impossibly wonderful night.



They say the melody was one that could be heard upon the Four Winds as far as a crow flies. So beautiful was this simple melody that even the trees dared not prevent the passage of its melodic flight. Yet something was different from the normal melody. A strange thing came creeping into its sound. A melancholy sort of sound. One of loneliness, and longing. A sound of that which knew not of the outside world, but longed for it. No, that is not right. It was the sound of contentment breaking. It was the sound of a tightness that comes into the chest when the thought of being alone forever creeps into you. The feeling of being rejected, alone, unwanted. That was the sound that now infected the once happy song. It was the song of a man who desired. What that desire was, some speculate. No Vampire truly knows. What I do know, is his call would not go unanswered.



Far to the north was the Koven of a great House. From that House came a woman. Some say the man encountered one of the Elders of that Koven. I like to think he encountered her. Oh if you could have seen her. Skin white as alabaster, hair black as pitch, and those eyes. As grey as the moon shines. A smile like no other. She was like the sun, shining brightly amongst us. What I can say for certain is the man encountered a woman from that Koven far to the north. She wandered those forests for many nights, following the melody that called to her. Until one night, she came to a clearing.



A curious man sat hunched over the edge of an impossibly still lake. Confusing the heavens to which was the star studded sky and which was tepid water beholden to earthen soil reflecting a deep beauty. She saw this curious man from which the song she had followed seem to come from. Now, no more melody graced the sky, nor the wind, nor her heart. She looked to his hand to spy the flute she had come to seek.



"Thou hast stopped thy melody," spoke her to the man. To which he moved with a terrible fright. He had lived in those woods for many years speaking to none. "Wouldst thy hand delay any further the continuation of thy sweet melody, mortal?"



"Nay, my lady," fumbled he who would not meet his lady's gaze. "If you ask of me, I will continue."



"Then I ask of thee, play on minstrel." So he played for her. The same melody he had played all this time. The same simple melody that showed his heart. No guile, no shame, no regret. He played his flute and sang his song to the fullest he could muster. So that when he finished he dared not look up, for he could hear that his emotions had been understood.



"Thy melody is a rose, minstrel. Sweet and delicate, but painful to grasp at times." She spoke to the man as a tear came down her face. She was moved by the simplistic beauty.



"I meant not to offend, my lady." He said as he looked up at her. She had sat there upon a log felled by the ravages of time. The light of the starry sky shining upon her raiment. Beauty personified.



"I have a request for thee, minstrel," said she with a smile upon her face.



"Speak, my lady. If I have power to grant your request, then I will see it done," spake he.



"May I return within the fortnight to hear thy melody again?" She said this looking intently at the man. He looked back up at her. A smile came across his face. This was not the smile of happiness, as humans say. This was the smile of purpose. For within his melody was a call to purpose. They say the man sang asking for direction and guidance. Others say he sang for love. Whatever it truly was, this smile was one of being accepted. The feeling of that terrible hole in one's chest being filled by the kindness of another.



"It would be my honor, my lady," He said.



Long ago there was a man. Not a particularly interesting man, nor a man of amazing character. He was a simple man who resided in a simple forest, by a simple lake, in a simple house, and with simple desires.



He would come and go into the forest as time would have during the day, and gather that day's food. He would gather the nuts, the leaves, and harvest animals (should any be ensnared by his traps), or enjoy a quiet afternoon siting by the lake fishing for the night's dinner.



When night would come, he would cook his meal, and he was happy. Not the kind of happy that most humans tend to say happy. A deep happiness that comes from an uncluttered life. That soft warmth that only a life with order and direction can produce.



And after that meal he would grab his flute. He would travel down to the lake and sit on that stump. There she would be waiting for him. Waiting for his melody.



Well whatever happened to the man? Whatever happened to her, you may ask? What was the melody he played? I will give you this much at least. It is how the song is remembered these days. Maybe, one day soon, I will tell you what happened to those two. I may even reveal to you the actual melody played that night.



Maybe.