confessions d'un v'rai vampire18:16 Oct 19 2011
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Even as a child I was considered odd. I was talented and appreciative of the arts. I was fiercly moralistic in my own way, but not in any particularly religious or even simply legislative way, my morals were strictly my own as was, and is, my code of honour. I had an aversion to certain alliums and ate only a very restricted diet mostly of warm rare meat. In all other respects however I could have passed for an almost entirely normal child.
My upbringing was as best as could be desired for a young renegade such as I was then; living as I pleased, ever with my ancient but distant family at my back as protection and insurance, I learnt as I chose and many of my talents were nurtured by these years of well financed vagrancy. I had a powerful insight into the human nature and was an excellent judge of character, to the point where I could accurately predict the actions of any given person. My earliest friends were other children I met in my wanderings I was thoughtlessly daring in my comrades and actions at that time, performing acts of preternatural strength and agility for one that age. It didn’t bother me that such stunts seemed to startle or even scare my friends. With one particular friend did I first perceive the true depths of my bizarreness? We two used to play in a wooden shipyard, long since abandoned, a damp dreary desolate place with a thriving vermin infestation and a buckling flat-panelled roof. This building was of an archaic construction consisting of thick timber uprights entrenched in parallel rows supporting the tar-cloth and timber roof this building was all the colours of damp and rotting wood but to children this was a paradise, heaven on earth unto ourselves. Once whilst we two played inside this structure the derelict roof began to crumble. A great cascade of decaying wood filled with nails rained down on us. I, being the faster of we two, ran clear f the falling debris, my friend however, a woman unfortunately long since passed, was struck upon the forearm by a falling beam. A great gout of blood flowed up from the lacerated flesh of her upper-arm and as her calls of distress beckoned me, just as surely did a strange almost amorous attraction. This liquid, the very essence of my friend, was drowning me. A thick, viscous, covetous attraction which had everything and nothing of an erotic nature to it pulled me toward her. Before I myself realised what was happening I was upon her, drawing her life out of her. I was I was repulsed by my actions and drew back horrified, but not before she had lost consciousness. I deftly staunched the bleeding and carried her to a safer place but I was inexpressibly terrified. What was I that such a thing could happen? I returned to my life as best as was possible but was shaken to my core and became jumpy and ever wary of similar situations occurring and my overbearing bloodlust might still override my sensibilities. At the age of twelve, as in most young males, a development in me and those around me was noticed. I began a life in a new and dazzling form of debauchery and after each conquest was meticulous in my written noting of each occurrence. You must remember dear reader that this was pre-revolutionary France, in Boulonge no less! And as such my lifestyle went almost unnoticed by the aristocracy most of whom were more interested in the execution of they’re own droit de sengeur than to worry unduly about mine, and it was most certainly well exercised.
I set myself challenges of those I felt I couldn’t possibly get and checked off one after another in that silly childish game. It was during that time that I found myself abandoned by my family, disgusted as they were with my charming but uncouth behaviour. I cared little for this and so as they left me with means and a house I was ever more able to pursue my sexual exploits. Yet for all of this a hunger yearned in me, striving to be free. In those years I met my first love. A sweet and loving girl separated from my own age by but a few months and yet unlike myself she was possessed of a great and beautiful naïveté and innocence was profoundly in her nature. She herself was a gloriously marvellous thing to behold, her well turned arms ending in delicate yet elegantly dexterous hands, her small yet invitingly feminine form plumped with soft, warm, silken flesh and the whole crowned by a thatch of curled hair the colour and sheen of honey. What a sight we two made; I, the tall, dark and devilish young Compte de Vendee and she the petite and innocent young consort. I don’t believe she ever really understood that what we did in private was an act that would induce the full wrath of her righteous bourgeois father for its `ungodly profanity`. For all that we shared however we were never a truly blissful union. We two have not spoken since our last parting which caused such a deep melancholia in my being as to spread its shadow to me even now. Despite my faults in fidelity I did love her but I don’t think she ever truly believed me or felt my emotion in action. Whether she reciprocated this is a matter for her to speak but here in my confessions I will say that much, I loved her.
I continued in my elicit habits but these fresh conquests held nothing for me of love. Rather it was the primal desire of company and conquest that can make any man dream at times of rape, even if he would not perpetrate the act. M consolation at this time I found in my friends. As this life closes one door it opens a window so they say, in my case I would be tempted to say it was generally a fourth floor window set in excellent brick work with no way of climbing to it, I feel god has a cruel sense of humour if he exists. About three months into my emotional torpor my friends introduced a new light into my life, Magdalena. A beautiful girl, tall as myself yet slender and willowy where I was thickset and muscled. Her hair she wore in a long thick sheet of burnished red about her shoulders. She moved with a surety which I found incredibly enticing. This pale beauty was for me a dawning. I quickly found myself enamoured of her and we two suited one another marvellously. She seemed strange as I but amazingly accepting of peculiarities and exuberant as I was reticent. We spent many long and glorious weeks in one another’s company, talking and laughing for the sheer beauty of the moment. I came to the height of summer before our little tete a tetes became amorous encounters. We sat in a lightly wooded area, near a pool of still water which in the moonlight looked like liquid silver. Rowans, birches and hazels arched they’re spindly branches over us, intertwining to form a canopy over us and creating a deep, soft shadow for us to recline into. At some point in the conversation we came to be embracing one another and quite without reason we held each other long and hard as if the world itself would have us part. She lay back into the soft, mossy earth, her hair pillowing her head like a beautiful Ophelia, as she lay untroubled and inviting in my arms. She lay gazing at me for several seconds which seemed to span an eternity unto themselves before she pulled me down on top of her and into the most passionate kiss I have ever experienced. We lay a moment before she placed her long, cool, thin-fingered hand upon my cheek. Then with a gentility and elegance slowly reached over her heaving breast and slowly began to unlace her blouse and let her pale and gloriously pert breasts fall free
. We spent that night in a passionate and sensual frenzy with each pushing together of our hot, naked bodies bringing us closer together so that I could feel every movement in her and the heat of her encapsulated me.
Afterwards, as we lay against one another in the dewy leaf litter Magdalena confided to me. She described her strangeness, her odd nature and the endless hunger she felt and to all these things she put a name, vampire. She gave me chills in that what she described I knew all to well, but she added to my knowledge. She spoke of a past; a history and a culture subsuming that of humanity. She told me she was of the clan Dragolia and the house of Alerios. The next few days passed in a blur for me and I cannot quite recall much of what happened except a self realisation and Magdalena’s leaving. Now this may seem boorish of me, but I cannot recall the feeling I then felt. Perhaps time has worked her soothing balm upon my soul, or else I have forgotten because I needed to, but his emotional shroud is a terrible thing for a sensualist such as myself. My years now passed such that I could pass for an adult even without having passed my first score of years. With times swift passage I came to realise a love of someone who was, while completely beyond me, also a very dear friend of mine. I speak of course of the love of my life, my beauteous Anna-Bella. She was around a head shorter than myself with waist length hair the colour of an old penny. Her elegantly mobile face complimented her blue eyed and well proportioned features so that she always looked beautiful; happy or sad but never cruel. She was well made in every aspect including her sparkling wit and loving nature. It was to her I took my problems, of her I asked compassion and I was never left without or found wanting for this. I knew long before I could even ask that I was not worthy of her. Regardless of her feelings I was not of the standard which she deserved and so for that time I contented myself with closeness to her. The first inkling I had of her reciprocating my own feelings had been several years earlier, due to the flippant comment of a friend. At that time, brash young fool that I was, I thought nothing of it. Now however I began to pursue her with an ardour akin to obsession.
One evening, in late June I believe, I came upon my Anna-Bella in the morning room at a friend’s chateau and used my opportunity to full advantage. Our passions ran wild as, taking her lead, we ascended to a vacant chamber. Once within she slipped the bolt and we engaged in the carnal art of learning each other. Every secret place we fund we learnt as if for fear our memories should fail us. Every silken curve, the light creases and folds in the flesh at the breast and the arm, the knee and the sex. Again and again my hands came t that warm moist opening to it’s the edges and then within. We lay tangled and exploring each other in this manner for at least an hour before we actually performed the act and the passions built in that time served to heighten the sweet euphoria of its consummation. Afterward we lay entwined beneath the sheets. I can still recall her sweet hot breath and the succulence of her body to my hands, even the taste of her; sweet yet slightly salty also, linger on in my capacious and vivid memories. In the heat of my passion that night I performed an act so abhorrent to nature as to befit me for the deepest pits of the nether-hells, such an insult was it to all things that should have been by any law of man, I had created of her, my darling Anna-Bella, another creature such as myself. This evil that causes me to prey upon others whilst allowing for my skills is a terrible thing and that, for any reason, I should pass it to another is a notion which is beyond awful. Yet this is what I had done and to one who I loved far more dearly than I did myself.
We remained together as lovers for a time, the space of two months, but alas we two lost each other in the blood and the wonder to which I had grown accustomed but she found in every object and so we parted in sweet sorrow because she was in love with the world where now I was at war with it, and my own conscience
Concerning the greatest love in my life, despite numerous amorous digressions is, you must understand, music in its most beautiful and skilled forms. To understand my feelings you must also realise that I grew in an age before composers began to butcher the very concepts of music to suit their purposes. The beautiful clarity in the soprano and alti as provided by songs of the castrati, with they’re feline monstrosity and childlike faces wherefrom purity and beauty met the sensuous and ungodly in word of man., this was the pinnacle of the musical world in my time. Vivaldi, Scarlatti, Tallis, Bird, Stanley, all composers that influenced me greatly. The very versatility of the music which was in itself a magnificently integral part of that style and form and which has in years since been twisted by interlopers had to it an enchantment, a stupefying and deifying quality upon the soul, both of the performer and the audience. I have always had a great love and respect toward other musicians, particularly the players of any form of viol as they are all possessed of an electrifying and animating personality. The way in which a group of these persons can take a piece and ,without detracting from it, make it exceptionally theirs, entirely their own, is a momentously unique and exquisitely beautiful talent which endears itself to me. The prescience of this strange and all pervading love made me ever more isolated and has, through the course of my life, caused me much strife and heartache. I did in all my pursuits use this as a yard stick as to my compatibility with others, however as my own relationships fall apart I came to realize that I was created in a world of solitary bleakness, a desolate black-sand desert of a world where the dark angel, the fallen watcher, can prey upon the mortal world. I did not deserve love or companionship or even the fellowship of another being.
COMMENTS
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ThomasWhitehead
13:44 Oct 24 2011
please if you have read this leave any and all suggestions on how i might improve it, the input would be welcomed!