"I just wanted to conjure up the image of the perfect, gnarly prince," she uttered to herself behind the smoke of the fading candle. It was Hallowe'en and she was dressed in the right attire, luscious, crimson velvet dress with a plunging neckline and her waist was the thinnest her corset would allow her to be without actually suffocating her. This is something she had yearned for a long time. As the wind screamed in customary spooky fashion and the wolves howled, she imagined her lover appear to her as she had once dreamt he would. She wasn't one to go for magic spells and even if she would be the talk of the town; everything would hinge on her making sure this was the one and only time she had left.
Climbing the cold and granite staircase and arriving at the top of the castle, she was engulfed by the overwhelming size of the grey turrets, which threw dark shadows across the stone floor. This was where Giselle wanted to be, stopping by a sharp jutting side wall for a second to scratch her itchy back. "Ahh that felt so good," and was needed since no one was around to do it for her. It felt cool and damp yet eerily familiar.
An age ago, a winsome witch had given her a spell which she thought was funny at the time and yet she used to wonder everytime she opened that majestic treasure box adorn with trinkets and poultices of old, whether real magic actually worked, or if she was fooling herself. Anyway she lived in a time of superstition and folklore. Where the grimmest of fairytales were not meant for children or the fainthearted. But tonight as the moon shone brightly and an eerie echo was heard throughout the barren and empty stone walled castle, tonight she would make it or break it. As Giselle gathered her wits about her and pushed back her raven black hair behind her ears, she bit her lip out of hesitation, licked her sultry lips and then wondered...is this what she really wanted, a man from magic, out of make believe and how would that romance really last?
Bubbles fizzed and hissed and as she threw more herbs and other unmentionable items into the steaming pot, she leaned over it, closed her eyes and whispered the inaudible spell. It was magic after all and not meant for anyone's ears. Moments later, a red smoke hit the chamber and out popped a being of the most handsome and beautiful visage she had ever gazed upon. Oh wonder of woes, he turned out to be a vampire, sharp teeth, the most supine of bodies and emerald greenest of eyes. He was her soul mate, at least for this All Hallow's Eve.
As they roamed the grounds of the castle, windswept from the glistening rain and a little wet still. She still remarked at the wonder of how he was a vampire in all his glory, and brought tears to men's eyes as well as bite to their recoiling and naked throats. Sucking their life force every second and Giselle ached with pleasure at the sight. It was amusing to watch humans get such a fright on this the most scary of nights. She clapped with enthusiasm as she watched him and felt her heart race. She couldn't do much, only scratch at her prey and the scourge of humans as they inflicted their terrors and torments on those less fortunate than themselves.. She could however be free with Henry...
He told her his life history though it should've been in potted version she thought.
"I arise every hour at midnight when the clock strikes the echoing toll, when the moon shrouds the sky and I walk across from past centuries. I roam, I am liberated until the first signs of the breaking dawn; thence I return from whence I came.
The dark, sodden, trodden earth, deep beneath the hallow'd ground where mere mortals fear to tread when alive. Perhaps they loathe me and are jealous of my agility; my prowess and ingenue. Those who know me; see me, fear me. Not because they are afraid but because I am all-powerful, all consuming. Avaricious.
I once was a man, beautiful and strong. Friends family and home I possessed, until I re-possessed them in my hideous rage. A possession so cruel and unholy in nature and yet nothing could I humanely do to prevent my rampage.
But for my sins I received everlasting life. I still am - a man - eternity is my namesake, never to age - this my reward. Dreams keep me afloat or are they just pitiful nightmares fervent in my ambitious desires. An anger rotting in my heart. Depth of flames, deep and unfulfilled. Akin to a desolate mire. Yet still in my eyes there is a fire lighting my already darkly shining eyes, containing hidden secrets, lost meanings. More apparent in my consciousness is lust and the need for hunting grows without resistance in all my proud being. The need for practicing evil beckons me on...
Recalling my transformation - a stormy, dank night. Windows rattling, wind breezing in gusts. That night pre-empted my doom, drawing me to an eternal destiny, that which once filled me with dread, now masks my glory.
She appeared to me in her haunting splendour. Rosebud, scarlet lips; face so sweet, bewitching eyes. Masking a bewitching hour and a foreboding smile. Mesmerizing me in an instance. I was turned into what I am now...
'Dear boy,' my sweetheart called me. Losing me was her agony and torment, but she too eventually became as me and joined me in my perilous plight."
This was part of the explanation he gave to Giselle and she wished she had surrounded herself by a circle of salt, than listen and took it with a pinch of salt - or rather to his feigning some sort of apology for his vile assault on humanity. Yet who was she to pass judgement on his plight and agony. Wasn't she just as bad and reprehensible in watching the blood curdling, blood letting and deep down revelling in some perverse sense of macabre pleasure. Akin to some form of soulmate or two dancers parading their waltz on the supernatural dancefloor. With gleaming crystal chandeliers providing enough sapphire hues of light to cast shadows where real people would once have danced. Was she nothing more than just heartless. As she examined her wrist she felt a pulse, strong and regal, almost.
Henry continued his story:
"Centuries later they came for her. Leaving me alone to witness my gigantic destructive appetite - all consuming, never caring. My heart does not beat, no blood flows through my vessels, yet my memories are intact, never to abandon me. Revenge is my calling...
Retribution has been sought and paid. Although I ponder on what might have been had I not returned late from my blood fest that fateful night. Still that is the all too distant past. To dwell on sadness may make me seem human. A disguise so unruly and wicked; which is part of my cunning. Would I have you eating out of my hand as I garner sympathy for my marauding plight...
I keep returning in my ravenous splendour when the moon shrouds the land, the cycle restarts. One night. Two nights. I shall return once more.
My family has long gone, my family was weak, they had no will to live on. I alone survive sentenced to this prison called life. These walls termed time immemorial. Confined to a hell or to some, everlasting eternity....
Watch out for the night. I'm at my most powerful then. Don't leave open any windows, nor any doors ajar. There are no depths to my abilities, my cunning, my stealth. I strike when least expected...but expected... I sometimes never am.
I dare you to fight me, to wield your great swords. No one can defeat me, no mere mortal or knight upon white horse. Once you know of my prowess, you'll run for deep cover. I am one to be feared, heeded and dreaded. But never ignored.
You cannot destroy me - but ways there are three, and plenty. I vanish when the sun hits me. I evaporate into thin air. Garlic repels me. My greatest fear is the stake made of wood. For if you hammer through my 'heart' I shall be no more. Nor stand as I once stood. My face you'll remember and the hollow of my desolate eyes. For I stare, stare, STARE into yours....
Fear not, for although I shall be no more. My legacy will live on. All that I've done will never fade with me. Those I have touched, those who have nurtured my existence for millennia will rise at each twilight and take my place...for my blood flows through their hearts. Moot point: you see as I said, I have no blood, no heartbeat, only cold ice. My veins are bone dry.
All that I am. All that I was will remain, blossom and grow. All that I've nourished will live to torment you. Those who crossed me will remember my name. They'll long to wake from the cursed dream, but the nightmare will not pass. I will be your bete noir. They'll curse me forever, they'll wish they'd never seen me or my kind. For I am invincible - the king of all vampires!
Giselle found this most amusing and yet was frustrated for messing with the black arts and conjuring up this paranoid imposter. She was after a child of the wolves, a babe of the woods. Raised in the forest and as every full moon she waned into her life force and she became what she was and always had been, not just out of destiny or fate, but her true calling. She was a werewolf...and yet she wasn't. She only seemed that way in the large mirror that seemed to cast huge shadows of reflections everytime she went to look in it. But this was no trickery, it was what Giselle really looked like, all two foot of her with her black fur and silky smooth four paws. Giselle was a cat and she sat by her mistresses's feet once more and yawned satisfactorily. That was enough fun for one year. Perhaps next year she'll conjure up something quite different. For Henry was nothing more than a vampiric cat too!
No comments:
Post a Comment