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V.enomous bites are quick to endure.

A.mazing hunting skills in the dark.

M.enacing fangs long and sharp.

P.ircing your throght.

I.mortality is now in yuor grasp.

R.eplacing your soul is a demon instead.

E.njoying the blood to the very last drop.

Parents shouldn’t have to die. Hell, when you think about it, people shouldn’t have to die either. I felt a movement of warmth shift on my left side and looked down, contemplating the young boy nestled in the crook of my arm. His mother died tonight and there was nothing I could do to prevent it. My name is Jonathan Townesend III and I am one of the 40 doctors on call at Ellis Island. Though the century turned only a couple of years ago, modern medicine still hasn’t caught up with the other modern innovations that have debuted in 1903. Life was fairly easy for me, unlike for most of the immigrants that I meet in my practice here. My ancestors arrived from England just before the American Revolution and worked for some rich folks out on a farm in Long Island. My grandfather was interested in making his way in the world and made it all the way to California. He was swept up in the big Gold Rush of ’49 and did well enough to return to New York to settle down and raise his kids in an upper middle class environment. My father went to college and, while he dreamed of medical school, only made it to pharmacist. I, the oldest of my parent’s four children actually realized the dream and graduated from NYU’s School of Medicine a couple of years ago. I always had an interest in helping the poor and so accepted a post at Ellis Island last year. I thought that I could make a difference in the world while practicing what I loved. My parents were disappointed to say the least, they had hoped I would establish a private practice but soon resigned themselves to my choice and supported me through my decision. Things went fairly well my first year. Certainly, life was hectic, with me working almost 12-hour days and seeing about 400-500 new citizens-in-the-making per day but I enjoyed it---until today. I was taking one of my very few and far between breaks from duty, crawled up on the bottom wooden floor of the building, trying to read a very interesting article on the progressive party in the NY Times. It was summer and a new boat had arrived with even more immigrants expected than the previous record setting day as I had been told before the Island opened for business at 9 am that morning. Usually, I just sit in my corner and read, trying to ignore the hustle and bustle of the confused immigrants around me, coming off the boat and making their way up the very large staircase to the immense registry room. It was there that their fate is determined and, after many questions/inspections, they are given a clean bill of health to enter the U.S. or are told that they have to leave on the next available steamer to go back to the misery that they came from.