All Hallow's Eve (Version 1)

“Bonsoir, Mademoiselle Caramia.” Felix bowed once to acknowledge the princess’ arrival. Caramia swiftly walked around the room in a magnificent Victorian dress, her long blond silk like hair dancing around with the wind from the opened glass window. Felix, thinking that the icy zephyr was distressing her already-fetid mood, immediately proceeded to close the pane, only to be stopped by the princess’ perfectly polished hand.1

“Halt.” Felix looked up, expecting to meet her piercing yet lovely green eyes, but Caramia didn’t glare at him. Her eyes were glued outside, where thousands of lit candles in pumpkin-carved jack-o’-lanterns glowed. Slowly, she walked towards the opened glass and allowed her eyes to observe kids, teenagers and adults alike in their search for treats. There were those who dressed up especially for the night— judging from the colorful frocks and gold hems—, while some looked as if they had simply threw in a white blanker over their heads. “How foolish,” she commented dryly with a blank face, her eyes refusing to wander away, “people ravaging their time to knock on doors for a sweet.”2

Felix didn’t say a thing; he knew the princess’ manner during the 31st of the 10th month— acid and rather unpleasant. “The absurdity of their tedious minds,” she added in the same voice that caused Felix to shudder, “I can not believe them.”3

A loud thud was suddenly heard from the wooden door. Felix stood up properly at once and flattened his grey vest before heading towards the large entrance. “Felix,” Caramia interrupted him without looking away from the sight out the window, “Allow me.” He bowed to show his agreement, and didn’t dare to straighten his body until the princess has passed him.4

“Trick or treat!” were the little voices that greeted her as soon as she opened the door wide. One fairy, two pirates, and one vampire stood before her with a big smile, their already half-full candy bags swarming with Crunch and Butterfinger.5

“Bonsoir, enfants,” she replied, “What undue pleasure it is to meet you tonight.” She scrutinized the children before taking off. They were probably five, or perhaps six. Too young, she told herself. “I apologize for making you wait, but I do not have anything to offer at the moment.”6

The two pirates whined as they stared scornfully at their own bags, while the little fairy waved her wand around merely smiled. “That’s alright. Have a happy Halloween!” The girl ran off, while the two left followed her, grumbling. Caramia shut the door without hesitation and consideration of the boy left outside in a dark cape, eyes refusing to meander from the inside of her manor.7

“The children are very shallow, Felix,” she remarked as soon as she faced her guard, “They should be vigilant. It is All Hallow’s Eve, if they do not remember.”8

“I’m afraid they have no idea what the day really means, Mademoiselle.”9

Caramia raised her nose higher in palpable displeasure and censure. “The elders should know better. I have been expecting Mafdet to come entering through the portal. That witch has never been the one with a preeminent temper. Still, I shan’t take the rest too lightly. Edon always has a little treat set out for — what was that, Felix? I am afraid I was not able to hear that.”10

He gulped, and his prickly stature was not missed by the princess. He muttered, though wishing he’d rather not say it at all. “Damian, Mademoiselle.” In reply to his statement, Caramia bit her lip and turned her gaze to the other side of the room, watching the crackling twigs in the brick fireplace. “I shall take my rest. Please do not put off the fire.”11

With that, Caramia quickly headed towards the curvy marble staircase at the far end of the area. Felix bowed his head without saying anything; he knew too well that the conversation is done and closed.12

In her room, Caramia remained still before a tall antique mirror. At once, her figure inside moved and bowed. Caramia nodded once, and she, the figure, went off, and the mirror infront of her was blank. She gazed at the skies outside through the window, deep in thought. Damian, she intensely mused, remembering her lover years before.13

Recalling those times is a very excruciating notion for her indeed. The pain, the tears, the blood… it was too much for her grasp.14

“I am afraid to say, Caramia, that Damian is not in his room at present time.” The voice snapped her to reality, and she immediately turned to the mirror she faced just moments earlier.15

Aggravated and obviously alarmed of the recent fact, she quickly glided around the room and rubbed her temples a few times before positioning herself in front of the mirror. She then said, with a snarl, “Then search for him! It is All Hallow’s Eve, Cordis, if you can get that detail in that head of yours. Portals are unlocked during these times, and no one can undo it!”16

“But, Caramia—”17

“Just do it, Cordis,” she ordered in a finalizing tone that caught the figure in the mirror by surprise, “I beg of you.”18

She sighed. “Yes.” For the second time that night, Cordis turned her back on Caramia and vanished.19

She heard the loud knocking from downstairs. “More sweet seekers?” she said to herself in a disapproving manner, “It is half before midnight. This is not good.” Quickly, she took hold of her frock and proceeded downstairs; the knocking continued.20

“Mademoiselle—?” a surprised Felix, who was about to open the door started to say, but Caramia only swept pass him. She opened the door out wide, her eyes meeting the presence of three children in Wizard of Oz costumes. “Trick or treat!” they cried, shoving their little orange bags towards Caramia’s direction.21

She, however, ignored this notion, and after taking a quick look around, brought her attention back on the children. “It is All Hallow’s Eve,” she said urgently, “What are you all doing?”22

They looked at each other before stating with identical grins, “Trick or treat!”23

“Yes, I am aware of that,” she said exasperatedly, “but do you not know the dangers of the night?” She figured these children will be a bit matured, considering they seem to be ranging from nine to ten years old.24

The boy in the middle who appears like he rolled in a haystack looked thoughtful, however, and said, “My momma always said that there are real ghosts during Halloween.”25

“That’s not true!” retorted the kid in the middle, stomping her little red Dorothy shoes in effect, “There aren’t ghosts! They’re actually sweaters loosening!”26

“No, no,” Caramia interrupted, causing the children to turn their direction on her as if seeing her for the first time. Matured, she thought contemptuously. “No, I am afraid that only applies in your dressers. “ She allowed her eyes to search the streets for a while before finding an example. From a nearby light post, what seemed to be a little man in green and gray tattered clothing was leaning and glaring at the little bags. “Do you see that man, over there?” she asked, bending a bit to be in level with the children and pointing at the subject, “He is the slickest gremlin, Edon.”27

Their reaction wasn’t what Caramia expected from them. “Cool!” the boy who tried to do a poor physical imitation of the Tin Can said for the first time alone.28

She scrunched up her eyebrows and asked, “Pardon me?” Before any of the kids can reply, however, the little man she pointed before was suddenly standing right beside her. The children stared in a mixture of surprise and shock. “Edon!” Caramia wailed.29

“Please excuse my, err, unwieldiness,” he bowed before her and did not look up until he added, “Mademoiselle.”30

She reached for his right hand, and though it seemed soft to the children’s eyes, Caramia was already mercilessly crushing Edon’s own hands, piercing her nails against his skin. “You should be careful, Edon. There are children here.”31

The gremlin gulped. “Yes, Mademoiselle.”32

“I order you to proceed inside. And do not touch anything.” He nodded, indicating his acceptance of her words, and dashed inside the manor without another word. Thankful that he was out of sight and earshot, Caramia turned back to the little children. Once again, she kneeled before them and silently said, “I do not want to terrify you, and I am not going to blame you children if you do not believe me. All Hallow’s Eve is not a night for humans to wander around.”33

“That’s not fair!” the little Dorothy retorted, “and our parents are allowed?”34

“No, I am afraid you misunderstand me once again.” She shook her head. This is going to be quite a hard thing. “All Hallow’s Eve is a time where the portal in between your world and my world is opened, and no one can prevent it from doing so. On this period of time, it is best for humans to stay within, where they are safe.”35

“I don’t understand,” the girl scratched her head, “What about the Butterfingers?”36

“Mademoiselle,” Felix turned up from behind her, disturbing the conversation, “I apologize for my sudden interruption, but it is quarter to midnight.”37

An alarmed Caramia turned to Felix, and then quickly to the full moon high up on the dark murky sky. Without another word to spare, she turned her back on the children, leaving Felix to the children.38

“The moon is hiding” were the first words that greeted her when she entered her sitting room. The fire crackled, and the small lamps hung on the corners were slowly diminishing. Edon stood before the window Caramia was looking out on earlier.39

“Do not fear, Edon,” Caramia said, “I will not take you in as my supper. Your blood is horrendous.”40

From the corner of her eye, she saw Edon scowl. “I do not know if that is meant to be a praise or a slur. Nevertheless,” he turned to her, “does that mean you have had enough?” The glee in his eyes was not easily missed.41

Caramia easily ignored this, however, and said instead. “We who live in the darkness and in legends find it hard here in the human world.”42

Edon gave a sly smile. “Must it be due to the lack of, shall I supply a better word, provisions?”43

“The human world does not unreservedly endow us with that.” Caramia eyed him disdainfully. “I am actually quite astonished of your lack of surprises this year, Edon. Surely you have something set out for me?”44

The little gremlin turned to her, taking out a pouch from the inside of his clothes. Caramia gazed at this action rather crossly. He admitted his hand inside and fished out a stemmed rose. It was red, and it seemed to Caramia that it just bloomed. Edon handed the rose to her with a low bow. “For you, Mademoiselle Caramia.” She took it to her small delicate fingers wordlessly, and the scowl she had on her face was priceless.45

The rose withered on her hand.46

“How imprudent, Edon.” The wilted plant turned to ashes in her own hands as she curled it. “You are wiser than this. Or is this simply another yarn of yours?”47

“Ah, you are shrewd, are you not, Mademoiselle?” Once more, he showed her a sly smile. “Only you know what is ahead of you.”48

“Amusing, Edon, that a gremlin lectures a princess. Should it not be the other way around?”49

“I have noticed that you refuse to refer your other self? Must it be because you are, perhaps, ashamed?”50

“Certainly not,” Caramia deviated, shunning Edon’s small blue eyes. “Nevertheless, my regal name is more absolute, do you think not?”51

“Ah, but of course, Mademoiselle. At any case, who am I to disagree?”52

Just then, the grandfather clock beside the fireplace ticked and tock; it was five minutes before midnight. The room was darkening; the moon nearly concealed behind the thick gloomy clouds. Edon noticed where she, Caramia, was looking at, and decided to take his leave.53

“I shall be going, Mademoiselle,” he said, bowing before the princess, “and as the humans say, ‘Happy Halloween’.”54

Caramia fell back and watched as Edon opened the window out wide, and, swift as the slick gremlin he is, leaped from the sill, and was then out of sight. The leaves kept falling, and Caramia had to shake her head at Edon’s cynical character.55

Yet, Caramia had lied to Edon, and she thinks he does too; she can hear his inner thoughts as loud as he can hear his voice. Caramia was thirsty, and she thirsted for blood, however, she was true to herself. Gremlins, she knew, do not possess the best hygienic liquid swarming inside their bodies, and she decided that her own blood mixed with mortals and immortals alike is enough to disgust her.56

She sat down on the chair beside the window she allowed open. The wind was now strong, and according to the large clock behind her, it was now exactly six minutes before the sixth son will come and take her away, or, possibly worse, her existence for the sixth time.57

Nonetheless, death does not frighten Caramia. To her, death is just a new beginning. She had been shot countless of times, decapitated in medieval England, and came across to plagues frequently, resulting to narrow escapes that she knew would be questioned. It pays to be immortal every so often, she had thought.58

“Good evening, Caramia.”59

The abrupt familiar arctic voice brought the princess back to reality, and she knew he had come. The sixth son, who never grew tired of chasing after her six years after their disintegration, as Caramia so kindly puts it. Sighing and quite ready to receive the possible forthcoming pain, she turned to face Damian.60

Damian has not changed, she thought, and she figured she should not be surprised at all since she hadn’t differed at all, in terms of physical attributes. His dark hair was pulled back with a deep red band, and she swore his eyes, though possessing the same crimson color with hers, has a glint of gold, a sign of hunger. He must be thirsty, she told herself, I ought to be wary.61

“How do you do?” he asked politely, and though she knew he was trying to start up a refined conversation, at current time, Caramia has no time for such pleasantries. She told him this, which he simply laughed and shook his head at. “Ah, always the same, are you not?”62

“I have not changed, Damian, and I have noticed that you have not either.”63

“I presume that makes the both of us.”64

There was a deafening silence between them. There, infront of the window, the moon behind the dark clouds, Princess Caramia stood with much grace that any human would die for. Across her, was her long-before lover, Damian, who longed for her—blood, royalty, body— the person who she trusted for several years, only to be deceived. Yes, she added to herself as she fell for his deep eyes, Do not be fooled, Caramia, for he is a traitor.65

But no matter how many times she repeated those words to herself every time, every year, Damian has always found a way to her heart. He was, after all, the first person to actually enter Caramia’s concealed life. She was too furtive that even her parents find it hard to get her to talk, for Caramia is not just a girl, nor just a princess, nor even just a vampire.66

For Caramia has killed. Killed before history can even be traced. Killed thousands and ruined millions of lives.67

And she was only three years old.68

Hitherto, Caramia has lived a very dark life. She was clueless when she was three, and her parents refuse to let her see a glimpse of the outside world. But being her wise young self, she got to escape the tight protection and saw the world alone for the first time. The thing was, she was thirsty, and she couldn’t resist the strong scent of human blood flowing through someone’s veins. All she had as a memory were earsplitting screams and pleas of help, blood spurting and white pupils.69

She was not punished, however, unlike many of those who’ve killed before her, and that probably must be one of the factors why Caramia has turned out to be someone she is currently. Few had heard of this incident, however, and they had thought that the princess was merely naturally cold. Caramia refused to see the outside world again, until she met Damian.70

Damian, who showed her hope and light for the first time. Damian, who had let her believe that she was not a bad person. Damian, who became her friend. Damian, who was her lover. Damian, who brought her pain.71

Yes, it was all because of Damian, Caramia silently told herself. It is all because of him.72

For Damian was the one who brought the mortal before Caramia when she was three. He took her in as food, though the human girl seemed clueless of it. It is a sad fact for her to know when they were already before the high priestess, about to be wed, but Caramia will always be thankful that she found out in time.73

“I beg of you, Damian, please…” The blood, she told herself as her eyes met with his, Remember the human. Remember the blood. You trusted him.

“You have been drifting for the last minute,” he commented instead, “have you been thinking of me? For I am already here, Caramia, in the flesh, right before your very eyes.”74

“Do not sound so proud, Damian,” she replied coldly, “If you have forgotten, I am still of a higher degree than you.”75

“I assume so, but do not forget, too, that it was I who showed you the way outside.”76

“And I realized what an error it was, and I am sure you thought that as well.”77

“Yes,” he boldly answered, “I have.”78

The silence continued, and neither of them twitched. They were used to the stillness, however, and the glaring competition is also natural. But they are not children anymore, and the stares this time means something, deep inside, deep within. For tonight, it is a matter of continuous eternal life, or absolute death.79

And only three minutes remain.80

The clock didn’t stop, and the seconds keep ticking. Damian can hear her and her feelings, she knew, for being one of their kind does that. Their scent and hearing is exemplary, something that other immortals desire for. What is more, though, is that being one of them is not an easy task. It drains out all your energy and completely tires you out. In Caramia’s opinion, there is nothing more painful than living your life undecidedly, for it has been a custom that whoever makes a vampire, owns the vampire.81

And Caramia does not want that.82

“Time is gold, Caramia,” Damian’s minuscule smirk reached her eyes. It was bitter, and teasing. Caramia had never yet wished for her life to end so badly. Never, in her whole existence, had she wished for someone to simply vanish.83

“I trusted you,” Caramia started in a trembling voice, yet getting stronger with every word, “I gave you everything I can. But you killed. You murdered, Damian!”84

“So have you,” he answered, the bitterness in his voice not faltering, “So have you, but I did not throw you away. No, I did not neglect you, Caramia. I stayed with you.”85

She was already in tears. Ironic, how a vampire, still as a statue, well-built and seemingly perfect in the eyes of many, could cry— cry with real, salty tears. Cry like a human should. This, thus, proves that vampires are indeed beings as well; beings who feel, who learn, who love.86

The grandfather clock rang; it was midnight. With one fleeting glance at the room, Caramia was suddenly around Damian’s strong cold arms.87

He sunk his teeth on her neck after his last words, "Farewell, my love."