Bloody Hands
I told myself that if I was ever able to tell my story…
The story of a dark-skinned girl…
Forced into a life as a rebellious vagabond against my free will...
I would do it in unconventional order.
Tell it as I remembered it…
I must admit that I didn’t know much about being a vampire. As a creature of
the night, I slaughtered and killed humans for decades, hoping it would erase the memories of my human life.
Sadly, that never worked, not that I
expected it to. Emotion wasn’t a part of my vocabulary, nor did I mourn anything. I didn’t wear my heart on my sleeve. I was always naked. The only attire I wore was a coat of blood.
I fed on random humans all over the world at my leisure, without regard to who may miss them.
I hunted humans for sport. It was a passion of mine. I studied them in
the shadows. I loathed civilization, more so humanity. Inevitably, I’d found calm, peace, and discipline in loving animals because they were true to nature. I made a vow to protect them.
Sigh, how naive and foolish I was.
Before I let you into my world, I must warn you that I wasn’t
friendly. I didn't need friends. I was a passionate lover. I hadn’t time for impropriety when it came to self-preservation. In the realm of
survival the fittest wasn’t safe.
Cuneiform writing was just developed in Sumer, an ancient civilization of southern Mesopotamia and Egypt, hence the origin of my recorded history. I documented my beginning on Kish tablets to get a better picture of my reality. I did this until Ptahhotep, a city administrator (and vizier to Pharaoh Djedkare in the Fifth Dynasty) developed literary writing. This account would not have existed otherwise.
I didn’t do this for attention. I didn’t care about mortals and their opinions. With bloody hands, I chiseled my experiences on the limestone of this
Kish tablet with hieroglyphics. It wasn’t done for praise.
I remember pieces of my human life. I transitioned into a carnal fiend. I thrived in the shadows when the sun rose and lurked in the wilderness when it was time to hunt. I was in the beginning phase of my supernatural existence.
One day, the world would read about the system of betrayal that turned my heart cold, but for right now, that wasn’t a priority.
My heartbreaking story began in 2 B.C., Asia. I was covered with the blood of random humans I drained dry in Chad, Africa shortly after my painful transition.
I experienced a rebirth into a cold ball of death. Seeing life through human eyes was one thing, but seeing it as a vampire was frightening. I was on my own. I didn't have a home.
I was hungry and tired. There was no need for rose-colored fantasy when a world that ran parallel to life as I once knew it lurked before my eyes as they turned black.
I refused to turn around and look at my once-human life with those
eyes. Black shaded everything in its indefinite hue, so thoughts of my mortal life came to a halt. I'd turn to salt if I looked over my shoulder and the darkness cast its filter on my memories and experiences.
To my immediate right was a small pond. A few lilies floated peacefully on the serene water. Deeply overwhelmed, I fell to my knees. The moist grass cushioned them, but not the emptiness in my heart. I drank from the pond, but I spat it out. It was disgusting.
I closed my eyes. I loomed over the water. Images of my past raked my brain.
I had on a linen dress. I was making love to someone. His face was cloudy. I was hugging a girl, laughing. I became ill, too weak to crawl.
My head snapped backward. I opened my black eyes. I stared at my reflection in the water, and she stared back. My face was reconstructed and more refined. I was alluring, seductive, elegant, and powerful, with a hint of danger.
My breasts, hips and thighs were fuller. Startled, I jumped sixty feet backward. I slammed into a rocky totem pole, cracking it down the center. My body ached from the blow. Asian faces were carved into the stone.
The dawn of my supernatural existence began, standing under a Waxing Gibbous moon. I felt alone, like I didn't belong. In front of me was the unknown, fear and opportunity. Behind me was a path of destruction. The boost in adrenaline caused me to lose my bearings. Before I knew it, I fainted.
I didn’t know how long I was unconscious, but I was awakened by a strange man. I slowly opened my eyes. His calloused hands groped my forehead.
I sighed with relief. His fingertips trailed the length of my legs, down to my toes. His dreadlocks were decades old.
He handled me with tenderness. Good energy radiated from his body wrought with the sands of time. Only one man touched me in this manner. I was
choked up with emotion thinking about him. Don’t look back! I really wanted to, but I couldn’t.
This was harder than I thought. I didn’t know who I was anymore.
My wants and needs differed from anything human. What I used to crave I no longer desired, and what I never desired, I now craved.
I fell asleep once more. With a jolt, I was running through the scary woods in fear for my life. Heat beat at my chest. Bile rose along my parched throat. I reached a clearing.
I dashed along a winding path like a pack of deadly wolves were chasing me. A foreign sound betrayed the quiet of the belly of the forest.
Wildly, I looked around, trying to find my way out.
There!
A few feet ahead was another clearing nearly hidden by overlapping branches. Frightened, I ran again. I was near the exit.
Suddenly, I saw the Village in the distance.
I laughed with joy, relieved that I was safe. I learned how to navigate through my environment.
A flash. I had my first orgasm.
I was weak in the knees. I ran back into the forest.
There was a dead gator by a creek. A snake sunk his fangs into the gator's tail and threw it in the air.
It rose like a King Cobra as the gator fell into its mouth. I was petrified.
Oh my! I shouldn’t have stopped running!
Was I naive and blind?
I awakened from the dream.
The strange man grunted. I hadn’t been this relaxed since I was human.
Nervously, he washed my feet with aloe and water. I was at peace.
No one had ever washed my feet before. I wasn’t bound or gagged. There were no locks and chains. He was worried about me, even though we didn’t know one another. His upper face was shaded. I couldn’t see what he looked like. There wasn’t much light. Flames burned on wooden staffs along the rocky walls. The air was stuffy and stale.
My eyes were half closed. I didn’t want him to know that I was awake, but he knew; he didn’t seem to mind. He didn't have company in ages.
He was a loner. I was lonely by choice. I fell back asleep.
I was taunted with more images from my past. I was in Africa as a little girl. I didn't think that I was special. I wasn't worthy of the gifts waiting to unfold as I grew older.
My body went through major changes. My family's secrets hindered me. They unfolded before my veil-covered eyes.
The lace was snatched away the day I fell in love and gave my body to a man that was a seducer of other women. Yes, I fell in love with him.
Of course, I was naïve. I had a false sense of security. I didn’t know that he slept with those women, women like me. He chose them in secret and with discretion.
The women Like Me were enchanting, sworn to secrecy. Amongst each other they discussed how good he was and how deep he could go.
Twenty women, all Like Me!
From all over the Mother Land!
They hosted a “congregation” deep in the forest, down by a glimmering lake filled with fish. Gorgeous flowers spread as far as the eyes could see!
There was a secret garden outside of my Village we were prohibited from seeking. No one in the Village had broken those laws, except me and those twenty women.
One night I awakened with a start. I saw my friend’s mother, Larshaw, creeping from her hut. There wasn’t a light source in sight.
The moon’s glow failed to reach the Village. Any other night the glow
was bright enough to cast a light that guided me in the remote darkness. My Village was a great distance from Town and the Upper Market Place.
Larshaw and I never spoke to one another. I was a teenager, and she was an adult.
It was forbidden to engage in chit-chatter with an adult that wasn’t your parent, brother, sister or Elder.
Elders could speak to whomever. Unfortunately, they were the biggest concubines in all the land. I loved my Village, but the politics overwhelmed me.
Along dirt paths garnished with trees, random women were yanked into the brush and disapprovingly assaulted along with their self-esteem and environmental teachings by tribesmen from other territories. Because of that, I could hardly do a thing by myself. When I went to the Upper Marketplace, a man from the Village had to escort me.
Little murmurs broke my thoughts. I followed the gentle sounds that
reminded me of ecstasy and pleasure.
I proceeded, one foot over the other. Along the way, I picked up a huge stick just in case I needed to defend myself. My heart pounded.
My breathing came in short gasps. I reached another break in the forest.
The winding path made of soft mulch relaxed me.
I paused before a cliff, nearly tumbling over. I was two hundred feet above a rocky turf. Behind me lay the horror of a darkened forest. Something sinister lurked. It danced on my dirty skin.
To my immediate right was a large bridge. It took my breath away. I
heard another voice.
"Proceed, my Curious Child. Cross the Bridge of Understanding!"
Across the bridge I ran!
Something appeared over the horizon.
The bridge led to an open portico made of flowers, leaves and branches.
Spanish moss was everywhere. I slowed down and covered my mouth.
It was beautiful. Amazing. Resilient! I was caught off guard by twenty women
from my Village loving each other.
I awakened with a start, pushing away the memories. Before I knew it, I burst into tears. The stranger held me tightly to his warm body.
"It’s okay to cry, young lady. I don’t know what you’ve been through, but you’re safe here. You are welcome to stay as long as you like.”
His words didn’t register in my brain. I wept. I let go. My body trembled, remembering who I used to be.
I hesitantly moved forward in the darkness. The further I ventured, the darker it became. I didn’t know how to deal with it.
How did I go on living if I was dead? I was an oxymoron with fangs.
I loved my friends; I loved my family. I had to love them enough to let them go.
I craved blood. It was a taste I had to get used to.
Taking me by surprise, the stranger kissed my lips. I welcomed it.
I melted in his arms.
