THIS IS ALL MINE, BABY AND PLEASE PRETTY PLEASE RATE IF YOU DO ILL CONTINUE WRITING. IF NOT ILL SADLY QUIT.
When I Awake
New York, December 9, 1867
"The young Master is still sleeping—," another coughing fit consumed me. "I a fear that if he doesn't awake soon we may not be alive to welcome him from his long slumber." I said with much worry in my voice. The young Masters' parents did not intend on influenza when they left him in our care, twenty-nine years ago to begin their own eternal sleep. Influenza hit New York hard especially in heavily populated poor areas; we rich and middle class thought are selves safe as long as the sickness stayed down wind. So grand balls, courting and such whatnots continued on until slowly the sickness reached some of our own. The biggest hit before everyone realized that the sickness had spread through our own was the governor, then his wife and son. Some packed and left town some accepted fate and stayed, we stayed. To move the young Master in his sleep would require months of preparations, time we didn't have. The sickness hit us—I am suffering the repercussions now. My wife my sweet wife Victoria, had yet to be infected and was now looking at me with much worry.
"You should rest, because you will only encourage the sickness if you are tired." She rested a light hand on my back. "I will watch for the young Masters awaking."
I grabbed her hand and ever so lightly bestowed a kiss upon it. "My heart, thank you for I am sorry to place my responsibility on you because of a little cough." I joked, adding a little cough. Then a fearsome cough really over took me, my knees buckled over. Bile rose in my throat, not bile blood the coopery taste of it filled my mouth.
God! No I don't want to die like this not now, not here. It was too late for prayer my soul was coming out of me faster than the blood running down my chin.
"Henry, Henry. God! No Henry!" She screamed calling for help. She started to get and possibly go get help, but there was no time and nothing could save me. We both knew, I grabbed her hand and every so lightly bestowed a bloody kiss upon it.
And with the last breath of my life I said: "I love you, awaken Milo."
New York, September 15, 1981
"Ugh! My head where am I, am I dead, more importantly who am I." I was, I was, I am someone important. My name is, is Sam I can't remember. I had a mission to save someone, no some people a lot of people. But I got sleepy and now I'm in a box dead people go in boxes. Am I dead, no, I'm breathing. Heart beat.
Now I should worry about getting out of this box. I felt along the edges looking for a handle anything, nothing. Maybe I can push it open; I put my hand on top of the box and thrust my arms forward. With a whoosh of air the lid hit something hard and broke into a million little pieces. Okay—maybe a little too hard.
I looked around I seemed to be some kind of lair of velvet and lace. That's when the smell hit me. The smell that caused my throat to go dry, I needed a drink but not water. Water wouldn't quench this thirst, something else. This smell that attacked me from all angles, where was it. Close. The beating if another heart enticed me, a sound a wet sound. It made my mouth water—squish, plunk, squish plunk. As the pulse speed up my need for blood grew. Where is that pulse the steady flow of blood that I felt that I needed to survive? I stepped out of the box, which was made out of marble not wood. The minute I placed my foot on the ground there was shriek. I had stepped on someone her arms and legs were tied and she was gagged.
I stooped down, "Who 'art thow'?" I asked, and then removed the gag.
She screamed, "Help me! Anyone! Help! Help!" she screamed to the top of her lungs causing a delicious looking pool of blood under her face.
I put my hand over her mouth halting her screams. "I shan't help thou' if ye continue thou' racket." I told her in a clam voice.
With tears in her eyes she jerkily shook her head. With a few hiccups she got out "I'm Sasha Beckman. Her words shocked me what was a princess doing here.
"Sasha Beckham," I said while untying her, once I got off the last rope she threw her arms around my neck. A groan escaped my lips I wanted to scream get away Sasha run don't look back. Because I think I'm a—.
My teeth met her throat, no my fangs—Monster. She gasped and then screamed out in pain and pleasure. All her emotions spilled into me pain, pleasure, fright, happiness. But her happiness brought me nothing but boredom, her pain excited me—I bit harder. More of the thick warm liquid slid down my throat.
She screamed, "Samarth, Samarth!" Over and over like chanting for a spirit, neither fast nor slow a steady pace. Samarth? That name sounded familiar, but where have I heard it before.
That's when the vision took me.
I was floating back in time Egypt 200 A.D. I was talking with two people who seemed the same age as me but older. They were telling me something.
The man put a hand on my shoulder. "Son," he must be my father then the woman my mother. "Son, never forget what we are not human but Gods, vampires. Humans are nothing more than food with a conscience." He told me apparently. I have a problem with eating humans. The rise of a new age the Christian church now ruled. Curious to see what the churches humans talked so much about were like, against my parents warning I went to a sermon. The church believed that blood suckers were demons—I suck blood I'm a demon. No I couldn't be a demon, I'm Gods son Jesus. Father said we are Gods—so I must be Jesus.
I stumbled out of the temple.
I suck blood.
I'm a blood sucking demon.
I am a demon.
Not a God.
I must sleep so tried.
I stumbled into the house, mother screamed for my father. "Why is he going to sleep?" She screamed, "It's too early!" she cradled my head in her hands.
I whispered. "We're blood sucking demons, you said we were Gods but were demons." Falling in and out of conciseness, I managed to get out three words. "You're a liar."
"No! Son where vampires! Vampires! We are Gods to the humans!" He yelled. "And you are—"
The vision ended, because there was no more blood. What I now held in my arms was not Sasha Beckham but a pale bloodless mangled corpse.
With a jerk I dropped the body and crawled half walked to the wall until I met it with a velvety thump.
In shock I called her name, "Sasha, Sasha." Pause, "Sasha Beckham I plea thou answer me if I apologize shall thou answer." I crawl back to her and take her hand in mine. "I'm sorry." No movement, "Does thou hear me I plea to the that I'm sorry! Why shan't you answer me?" Nothing but lifeless brown eyes looked back at me. I did this to her all because I'm a demon a horrible blood sucking demon.
Father you are a liar.