A Cursed Life - 1. Chapter 1

The year is now 2005, the day December 5th, and man has become more than
just the animal we once hunted and preyed upon. In the wake of the
changing era: of light and electricity, of horses and carriages, the world
now has computers and high powered vehicles. Man can take to the air in
large birds and cross oceans in only a few hours.

They've become Gods; mortal, fragile, Gods. I've seen all this with my own
eyes, as I have lived more than a dozen of their human lives. Time has
passed for better and for worse and I've watched it do so. But the lives
of men are not the only things affected by time.

I'm a vampire; I have been so for many, many years. My name is
Devon, and my story is not the greatest one, in fact it's not really "my"
story. It is "our" story, the story of all my people, as I know it.
Vampires have existed alongside humans for many centuries. And the exact
origin of our kind is not truly known to me. In fact I know very little
about the history of my people. In part, because of the one who made me...
But that is not where my story takes place, not yet. To explain this
cursed life, I must start from the beginning and tell you how I died.

1012 B.C

My life before this was simpler...different. It all began in my 17th
winter which fell in the year of 1012 B.C. My people, like most, were
simple people living in a small community consisting mostly of family. We
lived in clay structures and had not yet discovered a sense neither of the
benevolent gods or of the continuity and stability of the human condition
as the Egyptians had. My home was a small one, which I shared with my
mother, my younger brother, and two of my cousins. My brother had not yet
become a man, and my mother was pressing forward in age. My two cousins:
one a boy and one a girl, were only a few years short of my brother's
age. As I was the oldest, most of the work and chores were mine to do. My
brother and cousins would remain near our home and help mother around the
house.

Father had returned to the earth 3 winters ago. As is tradition in our
people, my family, without having a leading male to provide for us, would
be cast out. I, only in my first year as a man in the eyes of my people,
stood before our leader and took on the role as provider. Our cousin's
parents had died a few passings ago from a sickness. With them, the newborn
child also died. The work took longer now, as twice as much food had to be
gathered now. We lived as a clan here in the valley but all things
depended on the family. It was up to its members to provide for each other.

And normally the clan gathered together only for ceremony and to hear the
decisions of the elders on different matters. Children would play together
as children do and friendships and bonds were made that would last for a
lifetime, but when the growing was upon them it was time for work and skill
learning. These things were dictated and taught to them by the eldest of
the family. Girls were taught which plants were safe to eat and where they
grew, which weeds could be put to use, as well as how to make clothing.
The young boys were encouraged to play fight with each other, to grow
strong and explore the valley. They would fight with sticks and watch the
men prepare for hunts. When the men would return the boys would help their
fathers and uncles to prepare the meat.

Before nightfall the elders would sit the young ones down and tell them the
stories of our people. Teach them of the sun and the moon. And of how we
all return to the earth when our time is over. They would learn about
nature and how we depended on different animals. How certain birds could
give warning of predators nearby with their sounds. And that the presence
of others could lead to those animals which we hunt. From a young age we
were all taught not to stray too far from the protection of the clan.
Relations with other clans were rare and some clans would hunt us as they
would the beasts. Only the men could move into the forest, and it was
unwise for any man to go there alone. Children were allowed as far as the
nearby rock formations. And in the warm season they could accompany the
women to the stream while they gathered water.

During the gathering season we would all spend long hours gathering plants
and other resources. And the sun was always high over our small valley at
this time and the long hours of working during the day gave us all a tan.
My brother and I both had long black hair just like mother. Our cousins had
light brown hair as I suppose their parents did. It was during this season
of gathering that we all worked hardest. My body had become quite used to
the harsh work, and through the season began to grow and change in response
to the hours of work. I wasn't heavily muscled nor was I skinny: lifting
logs and animal hides and moving stones had broadened my shoulders and
brought size to my chest and arms. My brother often helped me and he too
was beginning to change with the seasons. It would soon be time for his
first hunt and I would be responsible for teaching him what my father once
taught me.

But that would wait until long after the season changed and the harsh winds
of this winter were gone again, when the animals returned. I would often
go off on my own into the valley as a child which was forbidden. Many
predators in the area hunted the same animals we did to survive. As a man
in the eyes of my people I could go freely into the valley and even travel
into the forest across the nearby stream. I would remain there for hours
and simply observe things. I watched everything and anything that moved and
some things that didn't. I frequently would lose track of time and end up
deep in the trees close to nightfall. This could be dangerous; my father
had died in this place.

It was a dry season that year, the animals were few and the coverage was
poor for stalking those that did remain. I never learned what it was
exactly that killed my father. The others returned only to say that he had
been pulled of into the shadows of the forest by something large. The
elders claimed it to be a bear, only they could have taken down my father,
a seasoned hunter before he had time to yell out. The women of our clan
gathered around my mother for many days and took care of all things that
needed to be done, as was our custom. And come the day that we held the
ceremony we would burn a large stack of logs in the clearing near the
stream, as the old ones spoke. My mother was presented with a necklace made
by the women and a spear made by the men. Both were given to me. As the
eldest child I was now owner of all things that were once his. It would be
3 winters before I was a man in the eyes of my people but the
responsibilities would come now.

The dry season meant that there was little food to go around. I would not
have to hunt for my family as of yet but the time would come soon. It was
days before the men went back out to hunt. And nearly all the men went this
time. It was custom to find the animal and consume it if possible,
otherwise it was put to flame, a circle of life. After 3 days of hunting,
the men brought back a large bear. They found the beast far off near the
caves to the east. The animal would have to had traveled far to be in the
woods where my father was killed. And the animal bore no markings of being
struck; my father would have fought the beast no matter its size. The
elders spoke on it and decided that this was indeed the creature we
sought. The meat from the large bear was shared by all. It was a mixed
blessing the food from the bear would provide us all with nourishment to
last this dry season. And with the consumption of its flesh came the
knowledge that our kin would return to the earth.

There was a spot in the woods where the trees grew dense and you could
barely see the sky above you. A large flat rock rested here by itself. The
elders say a giant threw the rock here and the trees grew up around it. I
sit there on that rock and do my thinking. Since father was killed I spend
a lot of time in these woods. I walk around and observe the animals and
insects. I watch the trees and even take notice of stones. My time among
the trees always ends up here at the flat rock. Once I sat here long after
nightfall, and I had seen a lone wolf in the distance, but it was only a
split second. He moved between the trees and I lost sight of him almost as
quickly as I saw him. The vision of this animal was enough to make me lose
all concern for the coming of nightfall.

Remaining on the rock I hoped to see the wolf again, and as the air grew
cold I held onto the image of him. I was heading back to the camp before I
saw that wolf again. I saw it up ahead, and the air had grown so cold that
I almost didn't notice it in my hurry to reach to warmth of my home. I was
but a man's length from the animal before I noticed it. To my left I heard
a low growl and my head snapped to the side and looked on the animal as it
bared its teeth. It was a grey wolf, with striking eyes of a deeper grey
than its coat. I stared at the wolf as it growled at me; I was frozen to
the spot but not out of fear. As a child the elders told us of the man who
stood before a beast and looked into its eyes. Through the anger of the
animal he saw his fate. Not one of death, he saw his wife and he saw many
children. Several winters later his wife had several children and he
remembered his vision. To this day they say that if a man can stand before
a beast such as this with no fear he will see his fate. I saw that day, I
stared and stared as the wolf snarled and snapped at me. A cold chill
brought me back to reality and took one look back at the wolf. He was no
longer snarling and growling, but was simply looking at me as I was him. It
was a strange occurrence and I left it behind with a strange sense that
there was more to come.

I returned to camp and made my way inside after taking care of things. I
joined my cousins around the fire, and mother was happy to see my return
after being gone for so long. It's strange to think about it now as I look
back. My world was centered entirely on my family. And in this day and
age it was predetermined for us all, that no one could survive without the
support of the family unit. Yet it would seem that a great power had
determined my fate was to exist outside of humanity in its entirety.

The winters in the valley where we lived were always harsh and many of the
eldest among us would pass during this time. During the nights my brother
and I would share my skins and cloths at my place on the floor. My mother
and cousins huddled together as well during the night. It was on a
particularly cold night that I awoke to notice our small fire had died
out. I listened on as the wind and snow beat against the side of our small
home. It would be a cold day come morning and we would all be thankful for
the hard work during the past season. We had plenty of food and our home
would stand strong against the harsh winds.

As I rose from the ground to rebuild the fire I noticed movement on the
other side of our small sleeping area. I assumed one of the others had
begun to stir from the cold and moved on to the fire. As I began my task I
realized the wood had become wet at some point during the night. I
immediately thought that our home had begun to crack and leak under the
onslaught of the winter's night. I stood quickly to see if the leak was
something that I could fix temporarily until the sun was once again in the
sky and it would be easier to gather the things I needed.

I was barely standing before it happened. I never heard a sound and never
saw a thing. Just then I was hit with such force that I was sent flying
into the side of our structure. As I collapsed to the floor I still hadn't
gathered any rational thought as to what was going on around me. No sooner
had I caught my breath, than I felt a pair of strong hands pull me up and
toss me over their shoulders. As I struggled against the intruder I
realized there was yet another attacker, as I saw a strange figure back in
the room with my family while I was being carried out. I began to panic
soon after as I feared for my family. I was tossed to the ground just
outside of my own home. The ground was freezing and I was plunged into
several inches of snow. In a fury I leapt forward at my attacker only to
be struck by his hand so hard that my jaw cracked. I lay on the ground for
a moment moaning in pain but as I looked up, with my hair lying all over my
face, I got my first glimpse of my attacker.

A man...a man several years older than me and unlike anyone I have ever
seen. His skin was much paler than my own. His long black hair was kept
neat and fell just to his shoulders. He was dressed in clothing in the
fashion of which I'd only heard about in my short life. This man wore the
clothing of the Egyptian people. I have never seen one but I know that this
man was not an Egyptian his skin too pale and his behavior too strange. An
Egyptian would have no reason to venture the many miles in this direction
it would take to reach this valley. As I looked upon him he spoke in a
language that was unfamiliar to me. I was able to make out his meaning
which was for me to stay where I was. I attempted to speak to him in the
languages my father taught me, there were several other tribes and clans
that were a few nights distance from us and not all of them were friendly
but if necessary we could speak with them in simple words. The man ignored
me and as he turned back towards the entrance to my home I heard my younger
cousin scream out. I once again gathered myself and lunged towards the
man. He seemed to move with unnatural speed and agility which he used to
simply side step my movements. In this continued whirl of speed I was spun
around as his arms held me to him with an unwavering strength.

It was only moments after that, that I felt an indescribable pain on my
left shoulder. It was as though I had been struck with some blunt object
yet at the same time stabbed or pierced. A few moments later the pain was
lessened and my body was allowed to slump to the ground. I laid there
motionless in the snow and as I looked for any sign of my attacker, but
there was none. I brought my hand to my shoulder and as I pulled it back I
saw blood. I had been wounded badly, my body felt tired as if I hadn't
slept in several moons. As I looked around franticly my sight was beginning
to lose focus. With my last bit of strength I tried to call out to anyone
that might be able to help me and my family but I only managed a harsh
raspy grunt that would never be heard amongst the strong winter air. A few
moments later the darkness took me. This is and will forever be a cursed
life for me. I was brought into this for caring about my family by the same
people who slaughtered them.

It has been nearly 3 weeks...I think. I can't scream any more, my voice has
grown faint, my body weak and frail. Worst of all, I think, is that I can
feel them, insects, as they crawl over me. Why haven't I passed on? Why do
I still press on? I've had no food or water in all the time that I've been
here. I only lay here on this cold hard floor of this room surrounded by
filth, waiting for death. Why am I allowed to exist to remember the
screams of my family long past the point when my own body has the will to
scream itself? I can just barely see light near the floor, a door. Every
so often I see movement and I wonder if they're coming to finish me off,
hoping.

I haven't seen them, my attackers, not since that night. They only come in
to this prison when my body is exhausted and I've passed out. I know they
do. They brushed the maggots away and clean my surroundings. But that is
all, they leave me no food, no water and never wake me. The light under the
doorway isn't enough for my straining eyes to take in and view my
surroundings. At best, I see a few of the flies buzz past the light and it
reminds me of my conditions. The worst is the pain, my shoulder still
bleeds freely, I can feel it. The blood pools around me, it seeps from my
wound and spreads along the hard floor. It's in my hair, on my face, and
it's become a nearly permanent stain at this point. And in my core, the
most searing pain I've ever felt.

It comes and goes. And when it comes, there is no comfort! It's like being
stabbed in the gut with a pitch fork and then having your innards swirled
around. All I can do is convulse on the ground as the pain travels over my
body at random. It's as if different parts of my body are dying off one at
a time. My throat is dry from my yells for a yielding to the relentless
pain. My hands have become sore and bloody from clawing at the floor. I
can see movement now, just under the door. And hear faint voices crashing
against these stone walls, my eyes strain to concentrate on the shadows of
their steps and yet my ears can still hear their movements. I'll wake
again like the other times, the feel of the blood plastered to my face no
longer present. The maggots and flies removed from my body and the room
will somehow seem less full.

I recall one time when it all came over me, it was a strange feeling. It
was a moment when the pain faded away and it was as if I was renewed. For a
few seconds I felt as if none of this had ever happened and that moment was
followed by the sense of being more than I was before. I felt better than
I should and somehow I knew it. My euphoric moment only lasted a few
minutes. I could feel it fade away and the pain came rushing back to the
surface as if it was angry that I had been feeling anything else on its
time. I prayed for death more times than I can remember in that small
room. There were times, when in my mind, I knew that I was already dead, I
had to be. And maybe this is all that there is of the afterlife. Pain like
this, was something a human being simply couldn't survive. And I didn't.

I had long ago lost all since of time; my weak eyes could no longer
tell the difference between the light of flame or dull sunlight from space
under the door. I was dragged kicking and screaming into consciousness,
literally. When I finally began to understand what was happening I heard
my own hoarse and dry voice yelling out. I couldn't even tell you where
exactly the pain was or when it started but the pain was growing by the
second. Even my eyes hurt and I was starting to see white. I was shaking,
more than that, my wound was bleeding once again and I was convulsing on
that floor in my own blood. And suddenly I fell silent as though the yells
were stuck in my throat. I bean to gurgle up what I had to assume was
blood and I was soon choking.

It was finally coming to an end and I was going to choke on my own blood.
I had no control over my movement as my body twisted and lurched one way
and twitched the other. I was losing my mind, the pain was so unbearable
that I felt my mind was going to break, that I was going to slip into
madness if it kept up much longer. There are some things in this world
that you just know you can't deal with, that you'd just collapse under the
strain. And when the pain surprisingly got even worse, I thought for sure
I'd be unconscious in moments. I'd have given anything to go back to
having the maggots crawl over me and eating at my flesh, to having my skin
stained with my own blood and to have the annoyance of the flies buzzing
near my ear and landing in my eyes. This was too much.

My mind was racing and my thought patterns made no sense even to me. I
couldn't concentrate on anything and I didn't attempt to, how could I? My
family, this isolated room, the harsh winters in our valley, the footsteps
in the area beyond this door; all of this flashed before me and at the same
time none of it really meant anything. There was no particular thought that
registered with me for long and there was no particular thought that I
tried to reach for. Briefly, the events of that cold night came to me. The
sound that had awakened me and being tossed out into the cold snow all came
back to me and was highlighted with the yells and screams of my family. In
that moment I could even recall the winter air rushing around my face and
past my ears. And suddenly it was as if I were somewhere else.

I was back in the forest beyond the river just ahead was the clearing that
lead to the river and our valley beyond that. To my side was the wolf.
This time he wasn't snarling and wasn't snapping at me. He was simply
looking at me; I had the strange sensation that this was different. He
wasn't just looking at me like I was just something else that was there or
like he would any other strange animal. He was looking at me, and it felt
as though it was a look meant only for me. The wolf turned and began to
run off back into the forest. And I followed it, I didn't hesitate or
pause, there was no moment of doubtful thought, I just followed. As we
moved through the forest it was impossible to ignore the differences from
what I knew to be true of this forest. The leaves that moved above us in
the tree tops made no noise at all. And neither a bird nor insect let
itself be known. In fact, from the time I began to follow the beast I
neither encountered nor laid eyes on a single living creature. And as we
reached the rock clearing I was convinced that the trees themselves lacked
life.

The wolf stood off to the side of the flat rock. I approached it and sat
upon it as normal. And once again that singular gaze returned to the wolf's
eyes. For some time we remained locked in that stare and the longer we
stared at each other the more tired I became. I felt as though I had done 3
days worth of work when I finally broke from the intense glare. And I
leaned back on the rock and stared up between the trees into the sky. My
body was tingling and my heart raced. I was so tired, I felt as though I
would be unable to lift my own arms and I didn't try. As I lay there my
heart continued to race and thump harder. It was almost painful how fast my
heart beat moved. I was drifting off to sleep despite my racing heart. And
as I slipped off into darkness, the wolf's howl was all I was certain of.

My eyes opened to the same darkness they knew when closed. I was in the
room again, no longer convulsing and the corners of my mouth were wet with
liquid as were my cheeks and neck. The pain was gone or at least I think it
was. I quickly became aware of the fact that I couldn't feel most of my
body, just random areas of numbness. I couldn't speak and as I tried to
command my arms and legs to move, a dull warmth rose up in my chest. Soon
I couldn't concentrate on anything else. There was no pain but I felt
unusually warm. And the numbness in the rest of my body faded.
I found I could move my arms and reached up to wipe away the wetness and
rolled over onto my back. Almost immediately after I was on my back I felt
a sharp pain that went as quickly as it came. I gasped out in surprise. And
before I had even closed my mouth again, it returned. And repeated it self
continuously. This pain, was my heart beating. The sharp pain slowly
became a prolonged one as if my heart was struggling. And soon I was
clawing at my chest. The frequency of the pain became longer and longer
between but the intensity of each visit was worse and worse, until finally
it had stopped all together. It was a few moments later but I felt it, I
felt my own body grow cold. And following that, all senses that I still had
left me. The last thing I recall was the small door beginning to open and
light rushing in to fill the void of my darkened prison.

Present Time

My master is long since gone, killed years ago by members of our own
people. You see, man has changed and evolved and even though we evolved,
not much has changed about our way of life. All but one thing: It might
surprise you to learn that a race thousands of years old was once at war,
with each other. What if I told you that while the world of man was being
devastated by the Black Death and was concentrated on religious
reformations and witch hunts; the world of vampires was in the midst of
what would be known forever as the War of the Immortals.

It was the middle of the 14th century, around 1347 A.D. The world was in
disarray and the world of vampires was no exception. We were killing each
other in the name of the old ways. Master against fledgling and child
against father. As it was relayed to me, it all started with a group of
young vampires who were creating other vampires by the dozen. They were
keeping people as servants and slaves, which was gathering suspicion among
the humans. Thus they were breaking our most sacred of rules. We did not
have many rules to live by but all that we did have were punishable by
death. For what does an immortal fear but a mortal death?

You see these vampires were young themselves, some not even a decade old
and they believed they had the right to create a life for someone else that
they themselves had not yet full knowledge of. And as is our way these
vampires were to be slain. And not one of us would have raised a
questioning eye to this for the order came from the oldest of our kind. It
all would have been said and done if not for the bond between a master and
his fledgling. It took only one vampire to disobey the ruling of our
elders, to send a ripple throughout our entire race. One vampire refused to
kill his young fledgling. He couldn't bare the idea of killing his
youngling that he loved like a daughter, which was, for all intents and
purposes, his child.

When all the other vampires heard of this, the rumors spread nearly as
fast as the plague. A few more sires refused to kill their fledglings. And
worst of all, some of the fledglings killed their creators in an attempt to
follow the rule of the elders. A faceless rule, for no one had ever
knowingly seen the elders. And thus it began. No vampire had the right to
kill another unjustly. Family members rushed to kill the betraying child
and others to defend their relations that refused to follow the orders of
the elders. The blood of vampires was spilled for the next 150 or so
years. And I watched, alone.

1347 A.D

It was a unique time, for several reasons. Never again in history would we
vampires experience a time where scrutiny was of such importance. And yet
never again would we be so overlooked while in plain sight. Villages were
turning into ghost towns overnight and survivors sought refuge and prayer
as the answer to the plague. The Christian Church as it often does pointed
the finger to those not their own. Jews and witches were blamed for the
Black Plague. And while we are no witches we too could have easily fallen
under persecution. Jews were burned at the stake and tortured on orders
from the church, believing that they were being protected from the plague
by Satan.

They were seemingly less susceptible to the disease, possibly due to their
unique sanitation system which was cleaner and because of the eating of
kosher foods, though the church had no clue of these things at the
time. You see the diseases and illnesses of man had no effect on
us. Vampires living in villages touched by the plague would quickly have to
pack up and leave under the guise of fleeing the affliction. If we
remained in an area claimed by the disease it would only serve to bring
more attention to our already unique situation. We had no need to drink or
eat, and we would never be seen before nightfall unless it was completely
overcast. For these reasons most of us lived far from villages and towns
and kept to ourselves. Yet, understandably, even those individuals would
have to venture to the villages from time to time.

The irony of being under such a watchful eye during such a devastating time
was that an entire war was being waged around them. By the year 1347 the
war had already been in progress for nearly 2 decades. And the plagues
only helped escalate things. The body count among our people totaled only
in the hundreds. And in only five years time the human tally would be in
excess of 25 million. Mutilated bodies being found come morning became a
common thing, when villages passed laws quarantining themselves in an
attempt to not pass the disease on. Those who wished to escape the plague
despite this and tried were put to death. And in some towns survivors took
to robbing and killing their neighbors to assure their own survival.

With a death total in the millions, a few bodies here and there were hardly
of concern. Even when the bodies were horribly mutilated or showed no sign
of disease, murder or a simple robbery was assumed. In shipping towns,
ships would often arrive with the entire crew dead or dying. An Italian
writer once wrote, "Victims ate lunch with their friends and dinner with
their ancestors in paradise." Death was such a commonplace event that
children made songs and played games that centered on the disease.

Ring-around the rosies was a song that children sang. They danced in
circles as they laughed and played and in the end they all fell down. A
ring-a-ring of roses, A pocket full of posies, A tishoo, a tishoo We all
fall down. Ring around the rosies , Pocket full of posies Ashes, ashes We
all fall down. In the early stages of infection a ring like formation of
buboes would appear on the skin. And posies were flowers thought to ward
off the infection. The 3rd line of the song, "a tishoo a tishoo" was
referring to sneezing a common symptom of the affliction. The last line was
about dying.

In the cities, they were hit the hardest. There were many different
attempts at warding off or containing the sickness but still it spread. In
some places homes found to have the plague were walled off, leaving healthy
and sick isolated together. People took to wearing charms and some
believing the sickness was passed through the air, wore oil soaked cloths
over their faces. The streets were lined with bodies and the smell was
nearly enough to choke you in your stride. Bodies would remain in the
streets in front of homes for days, as many homes had been emptied by death
or by fear.

At the worst of the plagues run, towns would be plunged into
lawlessness. And in these times a groups of men known as the Bechini were
known to break into homes and rape and murder its inhabitants. They would
wear hoods and masks that showed little or none of their face other than
the eyes. And it was in these times, hysteria would take hold of the
bravest and most devoted of people. Fathers would abandon their sons and
mothers and their children would stand in the street as they watched their
homes burn...their diseased husbands and fathers still within. Word had
spread that even the Pope was weary of the pestilence, and had taken to
sitting between two large fires to breathe clean air.

At the peek of the war, the War of the Immortals, our fighting had
all but spilled into the streets. Homes were being ransacked leaving only
an empty house behind, screams and yells filled the night in many
towns. And villagers took notice of all the nightly activity. The killings
were simply blamed on the hooded men and the screams and yells were, one
way or another, those belonging to the sick or dying. Vampires were
literally being dragged from their homes and killed. These obvious and
nightly killings simply merged into the peasant revolts and were viewed as
the more violent outbursts but for the most part this too went overlooked.

By the end of the 1300s the economy was in disarray, over a 3rd of the
European population was gone. Labor shortages led to demands of higher
wages which employers refused. Revolts broke out in England, France,
Belgium and Italy. The War of the Immortals that spanned three continents
went unnoticed by humans. It was unavoidable and unforgettable for any
vampire living at the time. And would be spoken of and studied by vampires
for centuries to come. It will prove to be the single most memorable and
determining time period in my life, for different reasons.