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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction that combine worlds created by the original content owner with names, places, characters, events, and incidents that are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, organizations, companies, events or locales are entirely coincidental.
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Gone From Daylight was created by <a contenteditable="false" data-ipshover="" data-ipshover-target="<___base_url___>/profile/21-comicality/?do=hovercard" data-mentionid="21" href="<___base_url___>/profile/21-comicality/" rel="">@Comicality</a> <br>

The Seducer: A Gone From Daylight Inspired Story - 30. William Harker’s Journal: Entry 30

§ §
Tuesday, December 5, 1989

The funeral and wake for my parents had been emotional, as to be expected.

I had to go alone, since, of course both events had been during the day. Vlad could not attend with me, though later he would join me that night so that he could also pay his own respects.

By night we had taken an evening flight up to Portland and then drove down to Newport where the cemetery was. It felt strange being in my hometown again. Without my folks, it didn’t seem like that same place. Sure, I had all my childhood memories there, but they were things from the past now. I was no longer a child. This had hardened me. Except for Vlad, I was on my own now. I had to step up to that reality. There was no choice, really.

At the memorial service, burial, and wake I had extended family there. My aunts and uncles on both sides of the family. I never knew them very well, so it was like being with a bunch of strangers. They were all sympathetic and nice enough, but it was the kindness of strangers rather than the familial connection that brings with it empathy. They had their own grief to deal with too, Aunt Nessy in particular. She had been very close to my father when they were kids. He’d been her big brother and a surrogate father. I found it strange she wasn’t part of my life, but I think there was a schism between Nessy and my mother. I picked up on that during the wake. The two sides of the family didn’t mix much. I was the only connection, really, and both sides gave their condolences separately from each other.

My grandparents are already gone, so, naturally they could only attend in spirit. I had been close with my Nanna on my father’s side. She’d lived long enough to see me born and meet me. My mother’s mother, unfortunately, died of cancer long before I was born. I never had the chance to meet either of my Grandfathers. Both were dead. One taken by the Korean War, the other taken by another fucking traffic accident!

I’ve come to hate driving. More now than ever! Cars seem to be the scourge of my family. A cousin of mine on my Mom’s side of the family was in a wheelchair because he was made paraplegic by a bad car accident not too long ago. His name is Carl. I got to meet him for the first time at the services. Nice kid. Far too young to be made paralyzed from the waist down.

Though, basically, the center of attention for everyone, I still felt left out somehow. Compounded onto my grief was this subtle feeling of alienation. Like I was no longer, truly, a part of my family’s world anymore.

I now know things! Things none of them could scarcely imagine, much less believe.

I found myself longing for the night to come so that I could be with Vlad again. With him there was true comfort and true feeling. He was more my family now than any of my relatives. I now belonged to his world…not to the one in which they belong.

It was then that I first started to wonder…should I do it?

If he would actually consent to do it, should I actually allow Vlad to ‘turn’ me? Should I make this transformation complete?

I now, essentially, exist as a mortal in an immortal world. Why not take the next step? There’s nothing for me now in the ‘living’ world. Even my half-baked plans for college were mostly due to what my father wanted for me as opposed to anything I wanted. I didn’t know what I wanted. I’d gotten the scholarship to Stanford and allowed my talents at writing and historical research to guide me towards a degree in history. But, it never was a true passion for me. Just something sensible that made my parents happy. Now they are gone and I have no aspirations beyond being with Vlad!

I suppose, despite all my feelings that I need to be on my own, that I still feel the need to be dependent upon someone. I hope that’s not all that’s driving my attraction to Vlad. Is he merely a rock I can cling to while I ride out this storm in my life? Is that all he really is to me?

Is that fair to him and selfish of me to use him like that?

No.

No, there’s something more going on between us. It’s deeper. So deep I’m actually considering ending my life as I know it just to be with him.

I’m actually considering death and resurrection as a vampire to be with someone I have come to love…very much and who, I think, feels the same way for me…or maybe even more so!

~

Vlad had prearranged a car service to take me to the funeral and then return me to the house he was renting for our short stay in Newport. I had my uncles offer to drive me, but when they saw the black Mercedes sedan waiting for me, they were duly impressed. My Aunt Nessy, however, was suspicious.

As I was climbing into the car she asked, “How could you afford that as a student?”

“I have a friend, Aunt Nessy. A very good friend.” I left them all with that. I figured I’d never see any of them again, so they could think what they wanted.

Honestly, I was very relieved to be away from my ‘family’. I never felt so out of place in my life. Everyone was dutifully sympathetic, but I didn’t get much of a feeling they cared about my being there even though the ones being buried had been my parents. They seemed more concerned with their own grief or when the funeral would be over so that they could get back to their own lives.

The house Vlad had rented overlooked Starfish Cove. It was a part of town we rarely frequented when I was growing up. It was where the ‘fancy’ people lived. My folks were upper-middle class, but what lived up above Starfish Cove was just stinking rich!

I found it, again, strange that I’d be in a place, even in my hometown, so out of the ordinary. My hometown scarcely felt like my hometown anymore! I was coming at it from a whole new perspective. I wasn’t the same person I had been when I left Newport. Not the same person at all!

I was overlooking that same ocean with new eyes. It was beautiful as always, but it didn’t seem to hold the same mystery for me that it once did. So many things that once made sense to me do so no longer. So many things that I once took for granted, I now see as precious. Things like nightfall.

For instance, I watched the sun set and as it got darker I found myself getting more excited. Vlad would be waking up soon! I’d be able to see him and talk with him again! I had started longing for the night to come, just to see him again.

I no longer had any fear of the dark. The darkness had become a comfort to me because it was where I could find safety and peace. A place, perhaps, where I might find love!

Vlad came out from the darkness of the house. I didn’t see him, I could only sense his silent approach. I didn’t want to break the spell of tranquillity I’d found by turning and seeing his eyes possibly glowing in that darkness. Though, like the reflection in a dog’s or cat’s eyes, those glowing eyes should only fascinate me, they still unnerve me. That is such a predatory trait, glowing eyes and instinct is a hard thing to fight against. The instinct to fear and flee such things as glowing eyes.

So, I kept my eyes forward and waited for his gentle presence to settle beside me. The full moon had risen to the apex of the night sky and was casting its light on the ocean in such a beautiful way. It caused the sea to turn a velvet dark blue under the stars.

“The moon is a goddess, William. Did you know that?” his deeply resonant voice sent an unexpected shiver down my spine. A thrill of joy rather than a shiver of terror.

“A goddess? I thought it was just a dusty old rock floating through space.” I responded teasingly.

“Ah, but you know better, I should think. See how the light of the moon casts its spell upon the sea? In Romania we once called it ‘lumina de velúr’ - the velvet light. As seen through my eyes, moonlight causes all things to shimmer and soften as if touched by, well…a velvet light!” Vlad said with a rare smile.

“For the vampire…moonlight is definitely a goddess.” Vlad said with a pleasant croon.

Velvet light…what an amazing way to describe it and to think that this is how a vampire sees his nighttime world! The urge to ask him for me to be turned almost became overwhelming at that moment.

“…but to living eyes, the moonlight holds mysteries unseeable by those like me. I can see the beauty, but not touch it, for there is a part of me that can never again touch what exists in any Light.” Vlad’s more usual ‘dourness’ returned suddenly, much to my disappointment. It was almost like he read my mind and worked to counter that urge to become like him.

Changing the subject Vlad asked, “You came through the funeral satisfactorily?”

“Yeah. As best as I could, I suppose. I missed having you there…but I understand why that couldn’t happen. I don’t really know my relatives so I felt like I was with a bunch of strangers.” I said dejectedly.

“It is a great pity that this seems to be a norm among Americans. It is an aspect of this culture I’ve never fully understood. This fierce independence that precludes connections…even with blood. The blood is the life in so many, many ways, William. It should be the media that connects all humanity, but especially those that share the same blood.” The ‘Professor V’ had come out in Vlad again. He couldn’t help but be a teacher no matter how hard he tried to be anything else to me.

“I guess you’re right, but, unfortunately, ‘it is what it is’ as my Dad used to say.” I said with a new flatness I had found in my voice. A sound seemingly devoid of any joy or hope.

“ ‘It is what it is’…hmmm. Such a strangely fatalistic American idiom. It identifies with an, almost, European sensibility! For a culture so dependent on self-determinism it would seem blasphemous!” Vlad said with surprising wonder in his voice.

“Yeah, well…I guess. Sometimes I think that ‘American Individualism and Self-determination’ are going the way of the Dodo bird. Especially as young as I am, I can see that there aren’t the opportunities here like there once were. There are too many things blocking a regular guy from ‘making it’ anymore. It, kind of, kills any ambition anyone might have. But, maybe it’s just my bad day talking.” I felt my heart sink with this conversation.

“More’s the pity, then. It was that light of hope that made America such a glowing beacon to so many of the downtrodden of Europe. Many came and made for themselves and their families a much better life. I should think that this American Hope would be something for which to fight. It would be an unpardonable crime for a few in this great country to extinguish the hope of the many. But, perhaps that is the warrior in me speaking. It certainly would not be the aristocrat. Aristocrat I may have been once, but never at the expense of my own people.” Vlad revealed.

My silence must have been the hint Vlad needed to change the subject.

“Might I request that I visit your parent’s gravesite tonight? I should like to pay my own respects, if it pleases you.” Vlad said turning to gaze into my eyes. He was earnest in his appeal, so how could I refuse?

Admittedly, the prospect of going to a graveyard at night was not an inviting one to me, but, with Vlad, such nighttime excursions were becoming more commonplace and less fearsome.

“Sure. Why not. I’m not sure the cemetery allows night visitors, but why not brave it and find out?” I said with a note of rebelliousness. Basically, fuck anyone who should bar my way from seeing my parents anytime I wanted to. Right?

“Oh, do not be preoccupied by cemetery rules. None can hinder us from doing anything we might want, especially underpaid night-watchmen.” Vlad said with an uncharacteristic smirk.

~

Thanks to Vlad’s night vision, we didn’t need to call attention to ourselves with a flashlight. I found it beyond creepy sneaking around a cemetery in the dark, but I followed Vlad anyway. I’d pointed out the general area where my parents had been laid to rest. Vlad took it from there. Like a bloodhound, he zeroed in on the correct gravesite in record time.

“Ah, engraved marble! Much preferable to bronze, in my opinion.” Vlad said with a weird admiration for my parents’ grave marker.

“That would have been my…Dad. He would think of…everything.” The sudden wave of grief overwhelmed my self-control and I found myself trying to stifle a bout of crying. It was a memory of my Dad that was so telling of who he was in life and could never be again. At least not for me in the living world.

Strong arms enfolded me and I felt the weight of a head on top of mine.

“Do grieve, young William. Let go of it because it is there and needs the shedding of tears. This is strength. This is good. This is right.” I could feel Vlad’s resonant voice through his chest. I could even hear a heartbeat. I did let go and sobbed into that chest.

I had lost the one’s I loved most in the world. I had lost my world. I had lost everything. Everything but this one strange man to whom I clung and who held me with the might of a god.

When the wave of grief had finished with me I let go of Vlad and he of me. I felt cleansed, somehow. Free of something that had been binding me. I was free to cry and there was someone there that truly cared!

Thereafter Vlad knelt in front of the effigy of my family, bowed his head and touched the stone. With his thumbnail he seemed to inscribe some symbol.

He then spoke strange words in a language clearly not Romanian: “Mortuus cuztotire noz returgat.”*

“What was that?” I asked with a touch of suspicion in my voice.

“Merely an old blessing. Something to protect the remains.” Vlad said with simple mystery.

* Translated from the Old Language: “Protect the dead that they may not rise.”

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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction that combine worlds created by the original content owner with names, places, characters, events, and incidents that are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, organizations, companies, events or locales are entirely coincidental.
Authors are responsible for properly crediting Original Content creator for their creative works.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Gone From Daylight was created by <a contenteditable="false" data-ipshover="" data-ipshover-target="<___base_url___>/profile/21-comicality/?do=hovercard" data-mentionid="21" href="<___base_url___>/profile/21-comicality/" rel="">@Comicality</a> <br>
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