The Two Part Tale

It was the winter of 1903, the year Krakow - Poland had entered the modern world. A political movement was set in motion and the old ways of nobility were becoming obsolete as the power was being passed into the hands of the people. Thinking back now, I should have reveled during this time, drank in the Knowledge and excitement that surrounded me like an infectious disease.

Yet, I was too busy drowning in my own depression. I’d only been this way for several decades but was already bored with life, too stubborn to rejoice in the constant discoveries and progression that mankind was making.  The Euphoria of my powers as a creature of the damned was short lived, as I allowed the reality of eternity to settle in. I detested what I’d become and envied the naïve humans around me. It seemed my pessimistic ways as a human were only magnified when I became a vampire. I’d seen too many die, people I once knew, people I once cared for... some I still loved.

I took to solitude, a companion or any form of company held no interest to me. I was jaded, or admittedly too self absorbed. I thought I knew everything and would incessantly question, “What else could there possibly be, that I don’t already know” ... as far as I was concerned I’d reached the end, and was now trying to force death upon myself.
I couldn’t have been more wrong....

My plan was to go on a killing rampage, refusing to cover my traces, defying all the laws  the Elders enforced for centuries. Being a gutless young fledgling, Suicide was out of the question, not that I knew how to dispose of one such as myself. In addition, the fact that I was an overly emotional being made my mission even harder than I expected.
An outrageous massacre, leaving a trail of blood and questions behind me was sure to entice the elders. Once they became aware of the degree of evil and disloyalty I openly displayed they would dispose of me without question or trial.
I had only taken men and woman of pure malevolence as my victims, a partiality I chose right from the start. At that point in my life, I’d not learnt the art of clairvoyance, but I would get a sense of ones soul the instant I smelt their blood. This was how I chose my victims, the only downfall being the blood that filled me was as wretched as I felt. 

So you see, at this point, 31 deaths under my belt in just three days, was not proving to allure the elders as I had so wished. I began contemplating whether or not to take the life of someone pure or holy. As much as I wished death upon myself, I was unable to kill an innocent, but my options were running thin and desperation was looming over me like an ever present nightmare.

It was on the night I sought refuge in one of the old Romanesque crypts in Wawel Cathedral that my destiny changed. As I lay there like a tragic victim, my check pressed against the stone floor weeping like a child, I heard the light footsteps of someone approaching. My senses kicked in, bringing the most aromatic scent I had smelt in years to my attention. I became certain it was blood, but not any blood; it was beautifully spiced. The intoxication of it induced the memories of me as a young boy, running through fields of endless wild herbs at the edge of the Adriatic Sea.

She glided into the dingy dungeon, with an oil lamp held high above her head. It illuminated her delicate features perfectly; neither a child nor a woman. What appeared in front of me was angelic.

"Why does your heart weep so?" came her lyrical voice. “It is cold here and not fit for any man, no matter his crime"

Her kind words made me weep more and I tried to hide my tears by turning my face into the wall. I felt her tiny fingers rest upon my shoulder as she knelt down beside me, I quickly turned to face her, hoping to frighten her by the way I knew my eyes would reflect in the light, but she had placed the oil lamp behind her .There was just enough light for me to see the pleading expression that fell across her face. A look I will never forget.  It was as though, in that one look she knew my pain and understood.

As she moved closer, the perfume of her blood ignited streams of fire through my veins, then I noticed her eyes, they were unique, like a leopards, yet light green in color. As I stared into them, a multitude of questions came flooding through my mind.... Was it possible that something so beautiful could be my final victim; or could I just let her walk away, unharmed and innocently unknowing? On the other hand, if I did take her life, this unique beauty, this Nun … I was almost guaranteed that the elders would come. Could I perform the highest forbidden sacrilege of all?

“It would be of your best interest to take leave of me, and swiftly, you know not what you have met. “ I growled, feeling my control slipping away.

“I have met a man with a tormented soul, a man full of pain and regret. One who weeps like a babe, seeking refuge and perhaps forgiveness … am I not right?” She spoke so gently, the way a loving mother would speak to her child. Her hand slid under my chin and before I could realize what I was doing, I had lifted my head towards hers, directly into the light of the oil lamp …

The second her eyes met mine, she saw the demon flicker within them, a frightened moan escaped from her lips sending her backwards. A smashing sound echoed through the dungeon as her back hit the oil lamp, Glass slicing through her side. The spilt oil immediately igniting and setting her ablaze. She began to scream in pure terror as the flames leaped up the back of her robes and down her arms. It was horrific, my heart felt as if it was breaking, I had not known kindness for so many years, but the smell of her blood drove me wild with thirst. With her fate already decided I lifted her by the hair, sending my teeth piercing down just below her collar bone. With the inferno of flames dancing wildly around us, I drank deep and hard sensing the fire could cause me just as much danger ...
Thinking back now; I still wonder if I was so desperate to die, why did I act so cautiously?


When I came to, I found myself leaning against a sarcophagus in the very same crypt, with its nauseating stale smell and hard stone floor. Was it all a dream, the beautiful Nun whom I had instantly loved, the sudden fire and her piercing screams? I considered that my lack of feeding may have made me delirious, as my acute vision was now blurred and my limbs felt numb and weighed down. I could feel myself ebbing in and out of consciousness, but I refused to fight it as I didn’t want to face the looming reality.
At some point though my head slowly cleared and I came to the realization that I was cradling something in my arms, someone. I looked down, and saw the leopard eyes peering back at me. Her exquisite face so white was perfectly still and glowed against the stark black contrast of her robes. She was even more beautiful in death.

It felt like every cell in my body was twisting and melting, including my cold bloodless heart, the guilt was consuming me as the realization of what I had done became clear. It was all too much to bear, I gulped for air in-between my loud sobs, tears streaming down my face. I pulled her cold hard body tightly to my chest, calling out for God to forgive me.

After some time my voice grew hoarse and my sobs eased to a sad whimper. Exhausted, I closed my eyes  and just before I drifted off again I heard a muffled sound, like some one speaking. Startled I raised myself slightly and peered around in the darkness.

“I have never met a man that cries as much as you do. It broke my heart when I first saw you, but now I’m beginning to think it’s all you can do.”
The face below me was alive, with a wry smile spread evenly across its tender lips. Her wondrous eyes sparkled with life, studying me carefully.

“Welcome back, I was beginning to wonder if I would have to force the sleep out of you. It has been many days that I have laid here in your arms, in the most unbearable pain; I was convinced I was dying. At first I was sure you were dead too, did you know that you don’t draw a single breath in sleep?”

I couldn’t believe what my eyes were seeing; I sat there speechless like an utter imbecile. Nothing made sense, and I couldn’t even form a single coherent sentence to question her. Sensing my hesitation she continued.

“However today is different, my burns are almost gone and I am feeling unusually exhilarated? I presume you will make sense of it all for me, but firstly, let me introduce myself : I am Sister Marysia, Zosia Dobroslaw, yet I suspect I shall have to renounce the sister part from now on”

__________________________________________________________________


“Now young Byron, if that is not a tale that would give you some faith, then I am truly sorry.” William spoke the words with such sincerity that Byron could feel his stubbornness faltering.

Before William and Marysia had appeared, he had been set on ending his life. But being witness to their love and contentment the past few days gave him unwelcomed hope. Especially now, after hearing how William had also been a tormented soul, felt the loneliness and desperation he felt. He was a stubborn creature though, it had taken several days of constant pressure and arguing for William to slowly make cracks in Byron’s defensive shell, and now he sat there staring at William, wondering how a “man” so old in years, could look so young and alive. Unlike Byron, he had colour in his skin, his eyes were bright and animate and his optimistic attitude was so obvious in the way he spoke, laughed, moved, even in the way he would feed … everything about William was infectious.

No, you are just being weak, Byron scolded himself,  I can’t just accept that there is hope and that things will get better; perhaps William was just one of the fortunate souls? But he knew that it was a feeble excuse. Out the corner of his eye he could see William perched on the barstool, a devilish grin playing at his lips, just waiting to pounce on any argument Byron should try throw at him.

“But what about the Elders, did they not come? Did they not try to take your life?”  Byron questioned, pacing up the length of the bar counter, with new found defiance. “I know all too well they do not tolerate those who commit such sacrilege, or have you forgotten who created me?”

“No, that is not something easily forgotten, but what you ask me is a whole different story in itself, and a very long one at that.” William paused for a moment, a flash of a pained memory passing through his eyes as he slowly ran his hand over his clean shaven head. “Frankly Byron, there is no time to tell it. Considering you will be taking your life very shortly it would be pointless to start it now, pity though as I’m sure with your background you could clarify some pending questions I still have about the elders. Oh well … never mind, I suppose its best if a dark tale like that is never retold.”


“Well what good is that, Shall I die only knowing half the tale?” snapped Byron irritably. He knew William had worked him straight into a corner; smashing his fist down onto the counter sending a cascade of splinters flying from the impact of his frustration. Despite his temper, curiosity still got the better of him and he agreed to delay his plans just long enough for William to complete his tale.

“Don’t think for one second that I have changed my mind though, I will go ahead with my plans, just not tonight.” He announced with much forced seriousness.

At that William stretched his arms high into the air, and let out a load moan. Leaning back, he gently placed his head in Marysia’s lap, looked up at her magnificent face and smiled as he heard her voice enter his head and say: 

“You have done well William my love, he shall live”



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