Hmmm...where to begin?
My birth? No, why should anybody care about that?
Childhood? A bore...
Mothers addiction?...I had nearly forgotten...
Death?........I suppose that's as good a place as any,
New York Public library, in the winter of 1998. I was just like you, a nobody, with a nobody librarian's job, on a path that lead nowhere. My life was a tragedy. I was the footstool of just about anybody who would raise their voice to me. At the time, I was 25...no...26. My body was tall and lean, and quite pale from lack of exposure to the sun. I was very muscular, but now, looking back, that was only because I was very underweight and the flesh just clung so tightly to the muscle beneath. My hair was long, and jet black, just past my shoulders, pulled very tight in a "pony tail". A Style I keep to this day because I never did have time to get it cut, and the long pony tail kept the hair from my eyes as they clung to the one thing that was keeping me grounded in this world. Books. Oh, the adventures that the beautiful heros would have! High seas tales, knights and round tables, ghosts. beasts, fantasy! Everything my life was not...until the night he found me...or that was how it appeared to me at the time.
It was an evening just like all the rest. I had just finished shelving the books that had been returned, and had clocked out from the library. I spoke for a moment to the woman I had a bit of an attraction to. Her name was Ellen...or Ellie...I cannot recall. She had asked me to be her date to the library Christmas party, but because I was shy and a bit intimidated by such a bold and beautiful creature such as her, I refused...damned fool. I have not spoken to her since, and her memory only comes back to me now with the writing...but I Digress.
I collected my possessions from my locker...a long grey coat, and a black sachel with the book I had intended to read tucked just inside. Dicken's "A Christmas Carol"...why not? It was soon to be the holidays. I departed the library just as the security guard was locking up for the night and tried, to no avail to hail a cab to take me to my small studio apartment. It was frigid, and no cab was stopping, so I elected to walk a few blocks and try again on a different street. I crossed the large main street and once on the other side I spied a sort of vagrant camp with barrels of flaming debris in an ally to my right. I figured I had nothing of value, and that would protect me, should they try to rob me, and that the barrels would warm my thin frame as I passed them, as I made my way through the alley to the next major street.
As I passed the poor and homeless people, I began to realize that I could not hear any noise. Not from the crackling fire in the barrels or the hustle and bustle of the busy streets on either side of this secluded ally. I thought I had gone deaf and put my hands to my ears frantically trying to make the sound return. I took three steps and bumped into a man who had not been there before. As my eyes focused on the man I immediately felt an attraction to him. Not sexually your see, just that I wanted to be near him and speak with him, and never leave his side. He was but a few inches shorter than myself clad in a very fine suit made with snow white fabric. upon his lapel, he wore a cerulean blue rose. His eyes were a captivating blue that nearly matched his rose accent, and appeared to glow just slightly. and he wore his ice blond hair short, and slicked back. I beseeched him to help me figure out why I could no longer hear, but when I spoke I could not feel any vibrations in my throat. I was silenced as well. Looking back on the memory now, I know I was under the effects of both his mighty presence, and the silence of death that is quietus, but to a mortal, I thought I was dying and clung to the closest thing that felt safe and that, at the time, was him.
upon seeing my helplessness, the man with the blue eyes glided his hand upwards toward his face and placed his index finger upon his lips in that familiar "shh" gesture, and then he vanished. I saw him again as he came down upon the vagrants that shared the alley with us. He slaughtered them all in the most grotesque fashion, ripping out their throats and drinking from the torrents of crimson blood that spilled from the wounds. He descended upon the last victim just slow enough that I could see his movement, and unlike the rest, latched very tightly to the poor woman as she fell helpless to him and his kiss. He had her now, lifted off the ground in a very tight embrace and he was wrenching her corpse to the point I could see her bones breaking under his immense strength. He was still latched onto her throat...sucking and pulling on her exsanguinated body. She was dead...yet he fed on...an addiction that would get worse as I came to know him.
He released her suddenly and dropped her lifeless corpse in a heap at his feet. No regard as he relished in the high he was experiencing. He looked about the alley and upon gathering that we were free from prying eyes, her turned to me...I was terrified to say the least, and then he was at my throat faster than I could blink. I felt my body begin to chill further as he drained the lifeblood from me. I dropped my satchel and its content spilled into the snow. I was fading, but right when I thought I was going to die...he quickly released his grip from my neck, and I saw my own blood arc into the light as my heart gave its last fighting beats. I followed the drops as they crashed onto the book in the snow, sinking...staining the pages. I fell into unconsciousness. I still have the Dickens book that contains the last 3 drops of my humanity to this day.
I awoke days later. Reborn...with a thirst, and the absolute need for answers.
-Kraven Westenra. .
My birth? No, why should anybody care about that?
Childhood? A bore...
Mothers addiction?...I had nearly forgotten...
Death?........I suppose that's as good a place as any,
New York Public library, in the winter of 1998. I was just like you, a nobody, with a nobody librarian's job, on a path that lead nowhere. My life was a tragedy. I was the footstool of just about anybody who would raise their voice to me. At the time, I was 25...no...26. My body was tall and lean, and quite pale from lack of exposure to the sun. I was very muscular, but now, looking back, that was only because I was very underweight and the flesh just clung so tightly to the muscle beneath. My hair was long, and jet black, just past my shoulders, pulled very tight in a "pony tail". A Style I keep to this day because I never did have time to get it cut, and the long pony tail kept the hair from my eyes as they clung to the one thing that was keeping me grounded in this world. Books. Oh, the adventures that the beautiful heros would have! High seas tales, knights and round tables, ghosts. beasts, fantasy! Everything my life was not...until the night he found me...or that was how it appeared to me at the time.
It was an evening just like all the rest. I had just finished shelving the books that had been returned, and had clocked out from the library. I spoke for a moment to the woman I had a bit of an attraction to. Her name was Ellen...or Ellie...I cannot recall. She had asked me to be her date to the library Christmas party, but because I was shy and a bit intimidated by such a bold and beautiful creature such as her, I refused...damned fool. I have not spoken to her since, and her memory only comes back to me now with the writing...but I Digress.
I collected my possessions from my locker...a long grey coat, and a black sachel with the book I had intended to read tucked just inside. Dicken's "A Christmas Carol"...why not? It was soon to be the holidays. I departed the library just as the security guard was locking up for the night and tried, to no avail to hail a cab to take me to my small studio apartment. It was frigid, and no cab was stopping, so I elected to walk a few blocks and try again on a different street. I crossed the large main street and once on the other side I spied a sort of vagrant camp with barrels of flaming debris in an ally to my right. I figured I had nothing of value, and that would protect me, should they try to rob me, and that the barrels would warm my thin frame as I passed them, as I made my way through the alley to the next major street.
As I passed the poor and homeless people, I began to realize that I could not hear any noise. Not from the crackling fire in the barrels or the hustle and bustle of the busy streets on either side of this secluded ally. I thought I had gone deaf and put my hands to my ears frantically trying to make the sound return. I took three steps and bumped into a man who had not been there before. As my eyes focused on the man I immediately felt an attraction to him. Not sexually your see, just that I wanted to be near him and speak with him, and never leave his side. He was but a few inches shorter than myself clad in a very fine suit made with snow white fabric. upon his lapel, he wore a cerulean blue rose. His eyes were a captivating blue that nearly matched his rose accent, and appeared to glow just slightly. and he wore his ice blond hair short, and slicked back. I beseeched him to help me figure out why I could no longer hear, but when I spoke I could not feel any vibrations in my throat. I was silenced as well. Looking back on the memory now, I know I was under the effects of both his mighty presence, and the silence of death that is quietus, but to a mortal, I thought I was dying and clung to the closest thing that felt safe and that, at the time, was him.
upon seeing my helplessness, the man with the blue eyes glided his hand upwards toward his face and placed his index finger upon his lips in that familiar "shh" gesture, and then he vanished. I saw him again as he came down upon the vagrants that shared the alley with us. He slaughtered them all in the most grotesque fashion, ripping out their throats and drinking from the torrents of crimson blood that spilled from the wounds. He descended upon the last victim just slow enough that I could see his movement, and unlike the rest, latched very tightly to the poor woman as she fell helpless to him and his kiss. He had her now, lifted off the ground in a very tight embrace and he was wrenching her corpse to the point I could see her bones breaking under his immense strength. He was still latched onto her throat...sucking and pulling on her exsanguinated body. She was dead...yet he fed on...an addiction that would get worse as I came to know him.
He released her suddenly and dropped her lifeless corpse in a heap at his feet. No regard as he relished in the high he was experiencing. He looked about the alley and upon gathering that we were free from prying eyes, her turned to me...I was terrified to say the least, and then he was at my throat faster than I could blink. I felt my body begin to chill further as he drained the lifeblood from me. I dropped my satchel and its content spilled into the snow. I was fading, but right when I thought I was going to die...he quickly released his grip from my neck, and I saw my own blood arc into the light as my heart gave its last fighting beats. I followed the drops as they crashed onto the book in the snow, sinking...staining the pages. I fell into unconsciousness. I still have the Dickens book that contains the last 3 drops of my humanity to this day.
I awoke days later. Reborn...with a thirst, and the absolute need for answers.
-Kraven Westenra. .