manon-duquesne-blog

[manon-duquesne-blog]

[manon-duquesne-blog]

Welcome To Your Life

CW: Burns

Manon awoke to the earth screaming around her.

When she had originally committed herself to the ground, the vampire made sure to dig as far as she could muster and then further after that. She did not want to wake, did not want to be disturbed by any means necessary. The grave where she made her bed had been deep, dank, and cold. Until now.

The soil that had wrapped protectively around her like a cocoon shuddered and loosened. Heat blistered through so powerfully that animal brain kicked in, causing Manon to burrow deeper in the earth. Hands and eyes full of dirt, she paused. There was no clouded mind of the newly awaken, no confusion of where she was or how she got there. Only the bone crushing realization that her worst fears may have finally come to light. Humanity has failed.

Determination out weighed the weakness in her hungry bones and Manon began clawing and grasping towards the surface, the heat searing through her. Manon had seen photos of the victims and the survivors the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, footage of soldiers suffering from the effects of Agent Orange, corpses of those who succumbed to napalm. She had always refused to look away from the darkness that humanity had to offer, committing it to memory in order to fight it. But all those hours watching films and reading testimonies could not have braced her for the city she was about to meet.

It was as if she had burrowed up into Hell- buildings in shambles, trees on fire, but what disturbed her most of all was the quiet sounds of despair. Of course, if Manon focused her hearing she would have been able to hear the sounds of survivors scurrying and wailing and calling for help. But around her? Under the sounds of metal screaming as it melted and the crackling of burning wood was the quiet shock of human life quickly snuffing out. A man holding an untethered leash looked bemused at his own hands blossoming with savage looking burns. The burns covered every inch of exposed flesh, his nerve endings burned away and killing any sensation of pain he might of head. 

It truly was a blessing, Manon thought as she snapped his neck. She knew the effects of his injuries, he’d be lucky to survive the night. Anyone here would. Laying his corpse carefully down, the heat seared straight to her bones with a pain long since forgotten. She had no idea how long she had been asleep and how much the city had changed since then, but as she placed one foot in front of the other, she hoped that the direction she moved towards was not the heart of the disaster. She hoped that she could find someone else who had survived.

[manon-duquesne-blog]

Bio

Born in Nazi occupied France in the year 1942, Manon Duquesne was born to two members of the French resistance. Orphaned during the last battle that broke the German’s hold on the country, Manon was sent to live with her shut-in aunt in the beautiful country side town of Lourmarin. They lived simply, but Manon always craved more. She soon got it after the death of her aunt- she packed up what little she had and headed for Paris. 

There Manon dove head first into Parisian counterculture, which consisted of (much like America) leftist ideaologies, free love, and music. It was during this period that Manon, smoking languidly in dark clubs, discovered her first supernatural creature- the vampire. They embodied everything thing that most Americans believe of Parisians- bored, effervescent, and effortlessly cool. Manon was drawn to them immediately, not so much scared as delighted at the exists of creatures of the night. She picked their brains ceaselessly, wishing to listen to the rise and fall of empires by those who actually lived it. 

It was during one of these late night talks that one vampire in particular offered Manon the chance to replicate her experience- by offering her the Kiss. She accepted it gladly, perhaps too gladly. She had only experienced the more docile side of the vampires, which she would discover was not all it was cracked up to be. There were blood feuds, territory wars, entire political systems to navigate, and, of course, the unending need to feed. Most disappointing to Manon was that the vampires were as apathetic about harmful hierarchical systems as humanity was. There was no desire to change for the better or better the lives (or unlives) of the most vulnerable of them. 

After decades of attempting to learn all she could and rouse the other vampires into social change, Manon finally threw up her hands and gave up. She began to look into immigrating to America, but disgusted by the Reagan administration, she opted to wait until the 90′s before making the leap across the pond. While she very much so was a fan of the RiotGrrl movement, Manon was far too burned out and disenchanted with the activist scene at large to participate. Having landed in New York with no inclination to leave anytime soon, she lived a quiet existence, circling in and out of the local supernatural community,

But the fire of activism was far from extinguished in her and it came roaring back to life with the election of George W. Bush and the subsequent events of 9/11. Manon dove head first back into the scene, participating in protests, organizing events, and recruiting fellow supernatural creatures into the good fight. It felt rejuvenating to be back in her element, fighting for what she believed in. It was short-lived however and with the re-election of W. in 2004, Manon decided to throw in the towel in a more permanent way- by committing herself to the earth. 

Finding a secluded edge in Central Park, Manon dug herself a resting place six feet under. Feeling utterly hopeless and disappointed in humanity, she felt compelled to disappear and rest, hoping that when she decided to return to the ground above, humanity would have finally learned from the error of their ways. She was still buried in Central Park when the bomb hit New York City.