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Syndel's Spire
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Diary of a vampire, entry 3

Added:August 08th 2007, 01:36:05
Series:[ Diary of a vampire. ]
Rating:4.5/5 (Votes: 2)

Both the longest and probably best entry thus far imo. Enjoy


I won't accept it, I cannot accept it. It makes no sense. It's a lie. How can this be true? This must be some sort of sick joke... but I can still feel the teeth marks. That bastard, “Hail” confronted me today as I made my way to Mellisa's house. Unusually for him he was alone, entourage diverted to some other social gathering. He called my name, the first time he'd ever spoken to me, but knowing my name wasn't that uncommon, especially after yesterdays events. I figured he was just there to make fun of me like the rest of the people I had met today. I wasn't in the mood for it so I ignored him. Suddenly he was at my side, holding my shoulder back with a thin, but powerful hand. I suppose that should have been my first clue, that and that as I turned around I noticed his skin was almost white up close. I asked him what he wanted and told him it better be important. He told me that he was a “collector” of unusual art pieces, a likely story for him, attending the same art class I did.

He asked me if I had any more works such as that I brought to school yesterday. I did have a few doodles and at the time it was comforting, flattering even, that anyone would want to see my other works. I did feel cautious however, I asked him: “Why should I trust you? Your probably just here to try to destroy my other stuff.” He told me that if I doubted his “authenticity” I was welcome to visit his house and view his collection. I was kind of hesitant but I figured what have I got to loose?

His house... well, I say “house”, it's more like a mansion. It was a huge building, at least four storeys and three times as wide as my house. When we got in it was like walking into a Gothic nightmare. The architecture was staggeringly extravagant, with blood red carpets and a wide variety of floor rugs, depicting scenes as in a play. Hail explained that his family had been in the antiques business for a very long time. He even joked that his family could probably be classed as antiques. Eventually - after a series of corridors, halls and museum styled rooms – we came to a long gallery. Hail explained that the type of art I'd used was referred to as “Momentous Macabre.” He showed me similar works, all of which seemed to directly appeal to me as I stood there. It was like seeing my impulsive, instinctive sketches transformed to a measured, detailed and altogether professional masterpiece, while retaining that style that cried out to me so much. I gasped at the sheer wealth of creativity which lined the walls of the gallery. I noticed Hail smile, as if he had been expecting this reaction of my and was pleased of it.

Then I found it. Near the end there was a painting, newly framed and hung by the looks of it. As I stepped over to it I felt Hail's hand on my shoulder once more, but I recognised this picture and shook him off. It was a picture I had seen burnt before my very eyes, a picture I had broken limbs to protect. It was MY picture. In this gallery it looked in place, almost as if it had always been here, but under it, engraved in the frame was my name, my birth date... and one other date. The date I died. 07/08/2007.

I was about to question Hail on it but suddenly I felt his hands on my shoulders, and before I knew it his teeth had dug deep into the side of my neck. I was stunned, and quickly collapsed to my knees in front of my portrait. I could feel the blood, hot and fluid, pouring from the wound in my neck. I don't know how long I stayed kneeling like that but eventually Hail stopped, and released me, letting me fall to the ground. I rolled on the ground, looking back towards him and watching him wipe the blood from two wide, hideous fangs. I fought for my strength, trying to push away from this monster, panic running through my veins instead of blood. My hand flew to my neck and I felt the two – still open wounds but no longer issuing forth blood freely. The exertion was too much and I could feel my self slipping away, the last thing I saw before losing conciousness was Hail's satisfied face, the sinister smirk as he stood there, superior.

I woke up here, at home, in my bedroom. My first reaction was that it must have been some sort of nightmare brought on by the events of the previous day, immediately I checked my neck but I could still feel the puncture marks. It had been real. I glanced around and saw by my bedside clock I had been asleep for over six hours. My throat ached and I felt dry and dehydrated. After spending a minute to get my bearings I ventured out of my room. After a quick scout I discovered by means of a note left wedged under a fridge magnet that my parents had left for an official meeting to discuss my “conduct” for the previous day. I figured this was probably fortunate for me because it allowed me some time to work out what happened today on my own without any distractions, but first I needed a drink. A few seconds later and I had grabbed a glass and filled it in the nearest tap. My thirst had made my mouth dry and leathery in my sleep so I gulped back the whole glass quickly and swirled it around in my mouth, trying to rid it of the feeling but as I tried to swallow I felt something wrong, it was a feeling akin to trying to sneeze with your nostrils blocked and mouth closed. I tried to swallow again and felt it once more. I figured the lack of blood had probably messed with my throat muscles and tried once more to swallow, to try to restore some sort of normality to my body. At first my throat protested but this time I managed to swallow the water. However, less than 10 seconds later my stomach seemed to explode with pain and I bent over, crying out in pain. I felt a movement in my stomach and instinctively leant over the basin. I threw up violently, vomiting out all the water which I'd just forced myself to swallow, and more. As I looked back in the basin the water I'd vomited had a slightly red tint to it. I instinctively knew that it was blood. My blood.

Suddenly I felt the thirst rising in me, stronger than before as I saw the bloodied water disappear down the sink. My mouth cried out for liquid as I stood there watching the last dregs drain away. Moving my tongue around my mouth I discovered strange, more pointed teeth. I felt one with my hand and almost cut myself it was so sharp. One each side... just like... Hail. Panic struck me and I rushed to a nearby mirror and examined my teeth closely, all the time dreading what I would see. Huge, dagger shaped fangs had appeared in my mouth and filled my vision as my mind stopped still trying to process what my eyes had witnessed. Suddenly the inability to drink water made sense. My new state had no need for water. What it needed was blood.

I am a vampire.

Stunned by this sudden revelation I subconsciously backtracked to my room. As I walked through the door I saw this very diary, moved from it's usual hiding place to the centre of my bed, in plain view. Inside on this day lay a note.

Welcome to death, Mathew.
Come see me once everything starts making sense. There is a lot you must learn and not much time to learn it.


P.S. You must feed within twelve hours or you will die, and by that I mean the more permanent form of death then the state you find yourself in now.

And so now I lie here, I can hear the noises of the outside night drift through my open bedroom window: people talking, cars, buses and bikes. Suddenly a revelation hit me. When my parents return... could I? No, they're my parents... I could never... what if it kills them?

I can't...
I won't...
I must...

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