I shall neither announce, nor denounce, anything that I am. Whether by believing my tale you live in terror, or by not, you live in the comfort of ignorance is of no concern to me. But I ask a question, love; in what do you believe? That I am evil, insane or perhaps simply deluded? It remains to be seen. What matters is that I am here now, and I shall tell you a short tale, only because it needs to be told. I leave it to you, the reader, to determine for yourself what I am, or what I am not. Shall I begin? 1
It was the year of our lord thirteen hundred and forty eight in Florence, Italy. The plague was at its peak. Hundreds were dying every day, and no one, not even I, knew if this was indeed the end of the world or merely a trial for humanity. I was saddened, and would not feed. With so many dying, and also with concern for my own survival, I could not in good conscience take a life. It was a miserable scene, and I was soon starving.2
My last night in Florence I wandered the streets, the moonlight casting an eerie glow on the dead that had been left to litter the thoroughfares. I paid the dead hardly any mind now, so common it was to see them. In a few houses, festivities were in full swing, some choosing to ignore the pestilence in the land by drinking it away. The parties would last days upon days, and anyone showing any signs of sickness would be immediately expelled from whichever house the revelers had taken for use that day.3
To the other extreme, several people had turned hermit, locking themselves away in their houses, only venturing out for the direst needs, thinking that solitude would keep them safe. Some had left the city, seeking escape but only managing to take the plague with them wherever they flew. Some sought solace in normalcy, living their day to day lives as usual. These ones would walk about the city with sweet smelling things such as perfume and flowers to stave off the scent of death. I walked the streets in horror, having never seen such a spectacle. I briefly considered going into the sun but decided rather to leave the city for an innumerable amount of years. Perhaps when I returned this way again the horrible thing that had been wrought on the land would be gone; forgotten.4
The whispered voice was barely discernable; no mortal would be able to hear it. Looking in the direction of the voice I had heard, I saw a window, open, with no candlelight signaling that anyone occupied the room on the other side of the wall. After a brief moment, I saw a small hand grasp the windowsill, and a frail, emaciated body pull itself up, presumably standing on a chair, to look out the window.5
“Mother? Mommy? Where are you,” the child whispered in a broken voice. She had once been a beautiful child, with yellow hair and sky blue eyes, but the plague had changed that. She was near death, her eyes and cheeks hollow. Her skin was very red, and I knew that once she died her body would take on the bluish black color that gave this plague its’ name. She had used the last of her energy to pull herself to the window, looking desperately for her mother. She coughed, and blood frothed on her lips. Her body gave out, and she slumped over the sill, dead. I sighed, but this was now an ordinary occurrence. Her parents had left her to die when she became ill, so afraid of this disease that they abandoned her. I left her where she lay, where at least she was obvious to anyone bearing a funeral bier. I said a few words of blessing on her behalf as I left; at least someone did.6
I was on the road leading out of town when a second whisper caught my attention. It was the same type of raspy whisper that the child had breathed, but this was stronger, more purposeful. Another difference was that the whisper was in fact meant for me.7
“Wait,” it called. I stopped in my tracks, looking around for the owner of such an unearthly voice. “I’m in the alley… please, I need help.”8
Recognizing the vocal timbre of another of my kind, I entered the alley and saw the most horrific thing I had ever seen, or have ever seen, since. It was a young girl, newly turned. She was dressed simply in a blood-soaked cotton shift, her long raven locks hanging limp and dull around her dusky face. If the dead girl I had encountered earlier was the day, this creature was surely the night. 9
She could not have been more than nine years old, but she had been turned at the point of death; death from the plague. Her eyes were just as sunken and hollow as the child I had seen only minutes earlier, but her skin had gone one step further and had taken on the mottled, bluish black color of the dead. Open lesions decorated her arms, and I knew instantly that these sores would never heal, and would be a constant torment to her. The skin around the wounds had begun to fester before she had been turned, and now looked red and infected. Streaks of black ran up her arm towards her heart, and her skin reflected the light in a way that made her look unreal.10
Every unnecessary breath she took was labored, and I knew instantly that I should not let this child survive. She was incredibly thin, nearly skeletal, lending her child’s face a gauntness that made her look older. 11
“Who are you?” I asked her, the horror of the situation making my voice a near whisper itself. 12
“Nicoletta,” the child answered. Her words were slightly slurred, a result of her tongue being swollen in her mouth. Her breath was so foul that I could smell it from the distance of fifteen paces, where I stood. Next to her I saw the body of a dead man; but not dead from the plague. The child licked her lips, and I saw trace amounts of fresh blood splattered on her shift as she looked at me with glazed eyes, once brown but now a strange blue color. 13
“Who did this to you?” I asked. “Who didn’t let you die?”14
She scratched at one of the lesions on her arm, fresh blood and pus oozing from the wound. She brought bloody fingertips up to her mouth and licked them, tasting the dark, purple colored blood. Her tongue had split, and a fresh stream of festering liquid ran down her chin, even as her tongue began to knit itself back together.15
“My mother,” she said, and I shivered, despite the warmth of the evening. “She should have let me die. I want to die. Please, will you kill me?”16
I balked and took a step back. I did not want to go any closer to this child; the half-dead but still alive walking corpse that she was. I couldn’t. I didn’t want to go near her, and so I turned on my heel, and walked away. I could hear her following me, but when I turned back to look, she was gone. 17
I do still see her sometimes, this specter of one whom I could not show enough mercy to kill. She follows me wherever I go, and still, sometimes when I wake there is the tell tale evidence of her having been where I slept. A dark, bloody footprint here and there. Sometimes the word “Mother” is written on a slip of blood soaked paper and slid under my door, and it is then that I move on. From city to city, country to country and still, I cannot escape her.18
Now I, on this ship bound for the New World, know she is here. I saw her skitter up the ropes holding the ship at bay, much like a diseased rat. I hear her creeping behind me even now, the whispered word for mother echoes around me in Italian.19
“Mother…. Mother please… the time has come. Kill me. Kill me now.”20
I turn, and even though I know she is there, her presence startles me. I gather her into my arms, the blood from her eternal sores leaking and oozing onto my clothing. Her dead eyes stare up at me and she tries to smile. “Yes… Now is the time.” With one hand she grasps ahold of my clothing to steady herself, her blackened fingertips peeling, cracked and bleeding.21
I draw in a breath; unnecessary, but a habit. Her body still reeks of the pestilence. I draw in a deeper breath, hoping for the strength to do what I must. I bury my fangs into her neck, drawing mouthfuls of the thick, diseased blood into my body. It burns. My lungs, my stomach, all of my internal organs are on fire, rebelling against the sick blood I am forcing myself to imbibe. I force it anyway. Drink after drink, I pull the blood into myself, and thankfully, she is small, so there is not too much blood. She is unconscious now, looking peaceful despite her gruesome countenance. I feel guilt as I take her above deck and place her in an inconspicuous place; one where the sailors and passengers will not find her until her body has turned into ash from the sun. I fold her darkened arms over her small, flat chest, and turn away, making my way back into my windowless cabin for the day. It is over. Good night, my daughter. Good night.
Author notes
I decided to go ahead and try for something really creepy. Hope you like it! My favorite thing about this piece? You won't find the word vampire written in it once. (except for right there of course). Kind a personal challenge that I gave myself. Please let me know what you think of it! Love, hate, indifferent? Honest critiques are appreciated.
For you history buffs, the info about the plague is true and is based on the eyewitness account as described in The Decameron. Excellent reading material, that.
A contest entry
- Put Your Writing Hat On {or more accurately, your recycling hat...} by Toxic Paradox.
600 points, ended January 23, 2008, 16 entries
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - Tales from the Darkside by xBitterxSweetx.
175 points, ended March 7, 2008, 36 entries
Honorable mention
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - Vampires by Pray For Me.
100 points, ended May 22, 2008, 15 entries
• next story in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think? Please comment!
Comments
1 - 40 of 40
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I liked it. It was spookie and well written good luck in the contest.
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Very well written. Your syntax structures were beautifully created and the imagery was lovely. Great job and thank you for entering the contest.
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Hmmm
no orthography errors, i like your syntax and the subject matter is well-portrayed.
Thanks for entering my contest
-T.P.xx -
I am proud to be second place to this write, because you turly are the better writer. Great job, I look forward to being your rival in the literature.
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oh, and just curious, is the main character the mother of the child vampire? or is she just the one who was merciful enough to kill her?
-alex -
oh this is awesome!!!!! i love the fact that you described so well who and what the main character was but never actually said it!!! and the description of the little girl kind of turned my stomach, but it was so vivid and gruesome that i had to read on!!! i LOVED it!!
thanks for entering this in my contest!!!
-alex -
This one touched me, and made me rather sad. How could someone change a girl like that? We all think of vampires being changed in a romantic type, but this was different. Sad.
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im a really big fan of yours. YOU ROCK!!!!!
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excellent
A very well told story (Sorry written) The Black Death (Plague) was a terrible time with many taken. The expression of a loss of a child is heart rending within the context of the story. Very well written and I applaud your work. -
cool
As someone else already said, I loved how you managed not to use the actual word the peice revolved around. Nice piece and you did a great job writing it! Thanks for sharing!
Love,
Amelia
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Oh, thanks, smilecoated pain... I appreciate the applause and the compliment! *Smashes your writers block with her writers hammer (tm)* I hope that helps!
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NIce
very nice!!! and yeah creepy you made me happy i didn't think i'd find something that was good today ( i got writer's block so i'm a crappy mood.) -
creepy and nice
kindof darwrite, im not a fan of darwrites, they make me depressed.I liked this story, nice vocabulary. stay in touch, cmment my poems, i'll comment yours
P.S. take a look at my contest.
-H.trueblues -
i would never think something like this was creepy! but of course...its me. gorgeously horrific write. kept me entranced down to the very last ending. very well written. i loved it.
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Kinda creepy but very good. I like it and it kept me interested. Good job.
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This is a creepy and well written poem- I liked it a lot, especially the description
This is what I call a 'good horror'- it actually freaked me out whilst not being just scary things for the sake of it, but also a good storyline Good write, thanks for commenting on my story and keep writing- it's cool that you've done your researc
All the best,
Pozo
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Thanks, Nika. The type of vamp I wrote about in this story is more like the Dead Ones than Andre though.
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oh my GOD! that was freakish... and so saddening. and wow i love how you write about vampires an obvious fact, as im a fan of your "andre" series lol anyway! this is awesome! so detailed, so sad, so gross... ick. great job!
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Surprisingly, it wasn't too difficult to avoid the word. I thought it would have been harder. But I do use the word in my other stories. Thanks for the in depth comment. I love the longer ones; they feed my ego (which is far from starved). Thanks again, I'm glad you liked it.
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aw..poor child. I loved how you didn't use the word vampire. that must've been difficult. i've started getting into reading vampire stories and i hate when the author keeps using that word. i mean seriousl ya don't need it. that's why i liked your story. it gave subtly hints and by the end the reader knew exactly that they were vampires. it was neat and i loved how even though you didn't use the dreaded (to me anyways)"v-word" that the reader(moi) knew what it was about. but yeah anywas....Good job well thank you for entering and good luck.
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I think you have got a good balance here- you didn't mention the word vampire but you weren't like some songs and poems etc, where you can't actually tell what it's on about unless you hear from somewhere, or are just sick-minded. Like, I thought Don't Leave Home by Dido had rather strange lyrics until I was told it was about heroin addiction, not having a boyfriend, hehe. Innocent me... Anyway, that's a great story. It could easily be FLESHED out (pardon the rather dodgy pun ) but I assume you made it shorter because it was designed as something to be read on here, not something to read in bed, and because you had a contest deadline. My one and only story so far on here, which earned me one of my proud silver trophies, was like that- I would have liked to make it longer but I had a deadline... Still, well done. Can't really wish you good luck in the contest because it's over, will have a look at how you did. Good luck in retrospect
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whoa it scared the hibby gibbys outta me... Great write I feel like I was sitting here watching horror film.. /I agress with Scaredmoon it is a very unique piece..And you do have such talent..And I wish you all the luck in the contest
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Wow, quite a piece here, and I really do like how you didn't use the word vampire.... neat that you set up certain challanges like that... unique piece here, great work !
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Good story, I really enjoyed reading it. You could be a little more detail oriented, but that's small stuff. I like the characters in this story. On a sidenote, it doesn't really sound like Rice. *shrugs*
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this is some amazing writing. one of the best stories ive seen on this site. i encourage you to keep writing. this is awesome dude i love it. good write
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A++
Excellent write, excellent write. You have a grasp for the other world, the night world of evil. Great imagery, I was able to imagine it all, and was able to picture a movie made from this. Wow, will there be more? Excellent piece. -
dear ariana-rose,
wow this is good in the sense that it sent shivers up my spine. the idea of vampires and all the plague and sickness. you have a gift for imagery. your descriptions of both the girl who dies and this half dead spector are fantastic. its like i see what you are writing. congratulations.
~*freed*~
*ive read anne rice and have never come across something like this so take that as a compliment* -
amazing
eek, that creeped me out - i loved the subtle hints throughout the main body of the text as to the nature of the speaker, but i still wasn't expecting that! some elaborate description that still didn't overpower your pace, and a lovely feel for olde-worlde language which (you should probably ignore this, i'm just being an English pedant) might be improved by English spelling and a few hyphens? tsk, i'm such a traditionalist. anyway, i really enjoyed this and looking forward to reading more of your stuff. congrats, hex (ps - this writing is an awful lot better than several published books i've read in the same style) -
My body shivers, I think my blood has turned to ice - remarkable writing. I don't usually like spooky stories, too much of a coward, but this had me hooked, I wanted to know more, I still do - is there more???????
Most horrific part for me -
"She scratched at one of the lesions on her arm, fresh blood oozing from the wound. She brought bloody fingertips up to her mouth and licked them, tasting the dark, purple colored blood."
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!
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Fantastic
Whoaaaa that was awsome, i felt as if i were right there step for step with this vampire. I have read a lot of vampire stories and this is one of the best. Thank you for sharing it.
Edited on Oct 27, 9:50 because ''. -
WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! It was kinda scary, but mostly sad.
Very good though.
~Ducky~ -
The setting is similar to the way New Orleans is described in "interview with a vampire". Not that i mind of course, it felt a bit like a missing chapter, or a fan fiction piece. Loved it anyway, it was very creepy indeed.
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Ex-Hick: *gives you a hug* Thanks so much. You know, I did read "Interview" back in high school, but it smelled so badly of marijuana (it was a public library book) that the smell is all I can remember of it. That and this hideous picture on the back of it (it was an old copy) of these guys dressed in white retro seventies suits that I can only imagine were supposed to be the vampires. *laughs herself silly*. Other than that, it's a blank, and that's all I've ever really read of Ms. Rices' work. So if it is similar, it's entirely subconscious. I assure you.
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fabulocity
wonderful, it really held emotion. Ick except, im sick. well not with a plauge but omg, its terrible! -
WooT!
Very very cool write. I love how you described the diseased child/vampire. Yup yup...I'm obsessed with the vampires and all so I really liked this. Good luck! *Whispers* And I don't remember that being like Anne Rice's scene at all. Oh well... -
Is it really close to Anne Rice? What scene? I wouldn't want to plagiarize her... I don't read Anne Rice and would hope that my ideas are original. Thanks, though, for the comment. It's appreciated.
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Very close to the style of Ms. Rice… and perilously close to the scene from ‘Interview with a Vampire’ perhaps the slight adjustment of the end is enough to detract from being a copy… Otherwise good writing – I think you just need to find your own ‘scene’ to succeed.
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I like it.Once again a fabulous write.
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wow. this has such a creepy tone. I liked the whole idea behind this, this was great. very unique... a compassionate vampire? a great story. awesome description.
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The detail here is incredible, and the graphics are amazing. I do love your work. Patricia
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