A Vampire's Concubine

A Vampire’s Concubine1

A Young lady leans against the cold Iron Gate, which leads into the old cemetery. She appears to be 17 but she knows it was farther from the truth. Her black hooded coat trails the ground and her black baggy pants nip at her feet. Her mocha colored hair covers her face as the wind around her picks up. Her cat like eyes roams the streets though she sees nothing. Darkness sweeps her into its spell and now she is fallen. She stands tall gripping her coat with her long black fingernails as if clawing for solid ground.  Pulling a strand of her mocha hair behind her ears she begins to see shadows lurk about her. This town wasn’t her home, but she still saw it way to well in her heart, though it dare not beat. She began to trace her fingers through the gate, looking inside. Nothing moved, only the midst that seemed to be going in circles. 2

Missy was her name though she wasn’t born to it; it was what she called herself after she was turned. In fact, she never knew her real name, as if it had been erased completely. She remembered the year in which she came into the darkness, it was 1847 and her parents had just died. She was an orphan but she rarely stayed in the shelter. She liked roaming the city of New Orleans. The raves, the people, the lights. All came back to her like a silent movie, flashing through her mind. It was a cold night and she had just returned from the tavern called Midnight Hour when she saw him, watching her with his gray eyes. She never forgot those eyes, it haunted her dreams afterwards. He was standing in the shadows; his white face seemed to be a mask as it glowed under the fluorescent lighting. Then just as it appeared, it vanished like a ghost. 3

She was in no need to be moved by this enchanter but there she stared where he had stood waiting for him to return but he didn’t. So Missy turned and walked down the darken ally unraveled by this mystery man. And then she was pulled back by such hands, like paper, she knew it was him even before he spoke. The scent of the dead stung the air and what happen next seemed like a dream. 4

As Missy began her walk down the old cemetery she remembered his touch, his kiss that deepen as it pinched her skin, she was dazed and when she came too she was different. Changed to what they called the undead. And she was his forever. But days later he was gone vanished like a ghost. Somehow she knew he would return to show her the world in which he promised. And as she waits like a flower in spring she would follow the night and surrender to the darkness and feed off on those who cross her path. Her cold unbeaten heart closed to the life she left behind and the eyes, which tells the story of her age. What became of Missy well she waited and waited till the day her ghost came and dared her to love and her heart became to beat once again in the arms of her concubine.5