The Vampire Saga:Preface August 9th 1913

Preface: Life Lost                                                                                          August 9th, 1913



         I stare at my death. His name is Damon. He is tall and muscular with extreme good looks, and is a murderer. Damon is a 103 year old vampire, a vampire who is thirsty for my blood, my life. I swallow my fear.

         He was the man I loved, the one I planned to wed. The one who took me home early from the ball, the one who is about to drain me entirely, was stalking around me. Now he stares at me no more than 3 feet away with a devilish grim. I take one of my few remaining breaths as he closes in on me.

         “Mabel, my Mabel, I love you so,” Damon starts; clearly he will taunt me before he kills me. “Did you know Mabel means lovable? You’re my lovable Mabel. You must realize I never wanted us to end so brutally, but” he pauses, “I suppose it will be easier, for both of us, this way,” he circles me, torturing his prey.

         “Why, Damon?” I question, stalling him, “why not save me? Why? Why not change me? I imagine you still feel for me. Save me, save us,” I plead to him. He enjoys this; I’m making his game all the more playful, agonizing.

         “Only a few survive, darling,” he is so close, I smell the death radiating from his skin, “Why waste such luscious blood?” he stretches the last word.

         “If I survive, we will be together, eternally.” I state.

         “If you do not, perfectly fine blood with be tainted.” He completes and snickers. A malicious grin spreads across his inhumane face and I sense his fangs plunging into my veins before they do. I moan.

         Pain fills my neck and begins spreading, my life slowly draining. I start crying, louder, and he grins against my neck and the punctures he’s made. His fangs have released, temporarily. I hear screaming, my screaming. He pulls me to the bedroom. His superhuman strength is no match for my fragile muscles. He flicks me onto the bed.

         His razor sharp teeth find the opposite side of my weak, breakable neck. I screech once again, he chuckles. He is now on top of me, no longer caring about me as though I am just a meal. I feel his teeth tear though another vein. I shriek louder than I thought physically possible. His weight is crushing me, increasing the pain greatly. I am losing litres of blood, of my life. I now feel lightheaded and sick and pain and tired, I feel dead. My last though is of revenge, I pass out, bleeding, dying, while crying.