atyov

[atyov]

Entry #1

I always knew it would be in New Orleans. I've lived, breathed and loved in New Orleans. It only really stands to reason, that I shall die in New Orleans.

There's very little I remember of my life. I remember feelings, I know I've loved, and I have lost in equal share. I have met many who have changed the very course of my life, and yet... I have lived for a very long time, longer than most, and a lot longer than I should.

They come and go, the memories, and I can only hope to write them down before they forever pass. Some of them come like dreams, lucid, vivid even, behind my lids, only to get fuzzy and more blurry the longer my eyes are open, the longer my mind remains awake.

None of them seem linear, I'm not even sure if I remember them correctly, my mind becoming more distinctly unreliable, there are, however, a few memories that I can recall with terrifying clarity. I wonder how long it will take me to forget them too, if at all.

I don't remember my true birthday, I only vaguely remember when I was turned, but I do remember my first kill after becoming a Vampire. It was a warm Summer evening. Her name was Dania, a sweet young maiden, a tender little thing.

She hadn't quite come into her 10th year, and once I was done with her, she never would. Would never love, never marry, never have children of her own. Would never die of Dysentery or Cholera, whatever disease was popular at the time - this was how I justified her sacrifice, I was merely ushering her into a new, better place free of filth and disease. Obviously, I could only rationalise like this once her blood was on my tongue, her flesh in my jagged, sharpened maw, her body strewn lifeless in the meadow she had been delicately plucking wildflowers from. No doubt to present them to her Mama proudly.

I remember the rush of breath caressing my lungs, like they had been deprived of air, the burn on my muscles easing like they suddenly remember how to keep my body from collapsing on itself, remembering how to exist rather than just having to survive. It was more than just hunger, but a visceral starvation, something dark and desperate, verging on depraved. Her blood quenched it quickly, but it was not enough.

Of course, the intention wasn't to kill her, a waste of a life in hindsight, but at the time, she would only die eventually, maybe young, maybe old and haggard, but she would ultimately die. That would have been a true waste.

It was vicious and messy. She met my eyes through the blades of grass and I knew the exact moment she knew. She would have screamed had I not gone right for her throat. I hadn't realised how cold I had felt until her warmth was pulsing right under my skin. I ripped her skin and picked it out from between my teeth for hours after.

I remember walking out of that meadow, my funerary dress drenched with blood, my hair a matted mess, dirt streaked my skin and caked under my nails along with what used to be sweet, little Dania. I walked right past her mother as she screamed, running into that meadow, howling in desperation at the mess that was her little girl. I walked past the scurrying villagers that rushed to her response, none reached to stop me. I never cared to wonder why, for the longest time. But then I realised, I saw it in their eyes, they knew. They knew, I was the Shark swimming in their midst.

MXXV