I am really sorry for not reading, commenting and writing on WordPress for the whole month. It’s just that our teachers seem to think that we don’t have a life outside of college and due to their kind consideration, now we actually don’t have a life outside of college.
So much has been going on lately that I have not had the time or energy to write. I leave for college at eight,come home at five. I change, eat and start working on assignments and projects by six. And then I stay at it till 11:30 or 12 and then I just crash.
I also want to write about so many things that I just can’t pinpoint a single one.
So to tide over my frequent readers, here is the first chapter of the novel I started writing as a teeny-bopper back in 2012:
The Love of a Father – A Vampyr Story
Chapter 1: Survivor
A violent mob. The burning pitchforks. The shouts. That was what Leah Dragos woke up to on the eve of her mother’s death. She was asleep on the hard floor holding her still and cold mother in her lap. She wanted to bury her in the forest behind their hovel, but she was so tired and drained with the tears she had shed and the keening wails she had no control over, that she had dropped off in a dark, haunted, dreamless sleep. Now she realized she would never get to bury her in the way she deserved, because the noisy mob was almost upon her home.
She sighed, she wasn’t afraid; it was merely an inconvenience, a nuisance that these people were presenting her with. She was confident in her abilities to thwart a crowd of “witch” mumbling hooligans. But she would be left without a home. Well I won’t be able to keep the house anyway, where would I get the rent money from? A house, like that’s what it is, a hovel more like it. But the memories, yes the memories…. She was jolted awake from her daydream of good times with her mother and landed back in her bizarre reality, when a particularly loud celebratory cheer on her mother’s death went up outside.
She shut off her emotions then, just like she had so many times before. A trait of hers for which she was called witch. Like it’s the only unnatural one I have. She thought bitterly. Leah’s ‘abilities’, as her mother called them, were a source of fear and trepidation among the village folk. Some said she was cursed at birth, others said she was a changeling, switched at birth by a mighty witch. Others simply claimed she WAS a witch, just like her mother. A monster, a ghost’s child, a shape-shifter. Leah chuckled while she carried her mother’s tiny body to the rotting mattress on the floor. She covered her up in her threadbare shawl and set her hands on her chest.
A tiny pearly tear was all her hardened heart allowed to escape from her eyes. Sorry Mama, you know I love you, but I have to disappear now or it will be too late. Yes, she had a heart as cold as the relentless ice that hardened the ground as she ran from the back of the hovel into the dark woods, but she knew it will be what would keep her alive now.
She was so lost in thought and remorse, that she did not see the dark, lithe figure emerging from the house, with a bundle over its shoulder.
He looked at her face; it was starting to discolor now. Silly girl, he thought, what was she thinking sleeping at a time like this! But he was proud of the calm façade she had put on later, he knew how she was hurting, but she hadn’t panicked, she was clever.
He swept a lock of hair from his eternal lover’s face. Eternal? She’s dead! He chided himself on the direction his thoughts were taking. Now’s not the time to revisit the mistakes already made.
He rolled up the sleeves of his raven-black coat, and set to work digging his beloved’s grave. His superhuman strength made short work of it. He cradled Irina’s body in his arms, close to his heart for a moment, before lightly jumping in the cave and placing her on the wet soil. He climbed out and started covering her fragile body with the cool earth. She always was breakable, he thought amusedly, focusing on the better memories of their love, rather than the bitter ones.
He stood up when he was finished; throwing the iron shovel in a tree over his head like it was a feather.
Now to see what my progeny is up too….
Leah curled into a ball in the hole made by a hollowed out tree. This was her sanctuary, a place to come to when things got too much for her to bear. It was a beautiful night; the orb-like full moon was hanging in the sky, the stars twinkling. A cool breeze was blowing, but Leah was shielded from its bite by her tree.
She thought about the crazy turn her already crazy life was taking. She realized she would have to live on the streets now. The village was small, but Leah had an idea where she would be safest from the rapers and the murderers.
There was an old abandoned side of the village, named the ‘Ghost Street’ by the villagers. It was said to be haunted. An old legend was famous around these parts, that the mansion at the end of the street was once the abode of a blood-sucking monster, a Lord. His land stretched miles around his home, a village was established there. Apparently the village people revolted against him and burned his house to the ground, seemingly with him inside it. Some said it was his ghost that haunted the place now. Some forms of the legend claimed that the people who had tried to kill him were killed off one by one in painful ways, and they were THEIR spirits that haunted the place now. She thought about what the mansion looked like now, the stone walls were still intact, but the wooden structures were burned. There were abandoned and dilapidated cottages all around the mansion’s ground. Yes, ample shelter, she thought. And nobody would venture out there, the cowards that these people were. A few teenagers on a dare or drunken men maybe, but there were plenty of places to hide out there. She made up her mind and started to uncurl from her fetal position on the hard ground. She picked up her bundle, settling all she had in the world on her shoulders. A dress, a pair of shoes, her mother’s diary, and a book, the only one she owned….
But the most prized possession she owned was around her wrist: a delicate gold bracelet embedded with three blood-red rubies on the front. And at the back were the words “In Aeternitatem”. Her mother had told her they were of an ancient language, meaning ‘for eternity’. She was very protective about it, she had given it to Leah on her 10th birthday, and after that it had always stayed around Leah’s wrist. Once when she was 13, it was a cold and brutal winter, Leah suggested her mother to sell or barter the bracelet, and she had never seen her mother that angry.
Her mother never said who had given it to her, but Leah was clever enough to figure out it must have been her father. Like I should call him that, my sire maybe, not FATHER, what has he done to deserve that name and status in my life? If I could just find him, demand answers, SEE him! Hell, I don’t even know if he’s human!
She wasn’t aware of the shadow trailing behind her, chuckling lightly on his daughter’s thoughts, which were swirling about crystal clear in his head. Her mixed blood had always unconsciously provided her a shield to thwart his telepathy, but not when she was upset and overly emotional. His smile turned into a frown. She must really be hurting then, her mother’s death and her absent father who she thinks abandoned her, if only she knew how much I care…
Just as Leah stopped behind the last row of trees behind his old mansion, he heard the message his second-in-command, his creation, Roman, was sending him through their telepathic link. Sorry child, you’re on your own for now, he thought, sighing.
He whooshed around and disappeared in thin air.