Journey of the lost one [open]

[collettedisjardins]

Love the ultimate lie:

That night, that dark starless night as the pollution covered the stars, the moon and all her beauty, how he stood there with his blade retracted wanting my blood, my death at his hands.

That scene replays in my head over and over as I run as fast as I am able to past workhouses and family houses, they all look the same, the white facade the black timber frames and the imposing looking roofs, tiny inside, intimidating on the outside.

I hitch up the multitudes of skirts I am wearing the exterior a crimson velvet to match the crimson velvet bodice I am wearing as my black flat ankle boots pound down the street, my breath nothing but ragged gasps and everything aches, my heart pounding in my throat as I run for my life although my slightly tanned flesh is raised in goosebumps the cold does not affect me for the run warms me up, then that alleyway that smells of old dung and urine that gets dumped onto the streets on a daily basis before that girly and childish voice with the face of an angel lulls me to sleep.

Ah Sleep how welcoming it is right now, the long kind of sleep, sleep where pain does not bother you, pretty much nothing bothers you except BANG the nightmare of those events wake me, sitting up wide eyed and alert in a four poster bed, in a white silken negligee that shows off my slender legs, too thin kind of like match sticks, my bed but how did I get here?

Alone:[/u]

Painfully I swing my legs out of the bed and with a thump my bare feet land on the soft lush white carpet below as I grab the naked lantern beside me, how sore my neck is did an inset bite me in my sleep?

Slowly I creep down the stairs one at a time avoiding the stairs that creak, the house is pitch black, finally when I reach the ground level I call out for my mother and father. Nothing just my voice echoing from me, again more frantically I call to be answered with the echo of my own voice.

Into the living room ah there they are laid together cuddling on the couch sleeping, moving closer, so much red, too much red, their pale skin reflects in the light of the candle, why won't they wake up? Mother? Father? It's me Collette wake up, my voice is high pitched and frightened as I shake their still forms furiously, no answer, no movement, nothing, all is empty, all is gone.

The journey and a new start:

The boat rocks so violently that it jars me back to the present day, over a century later. With the shaking of the boat and the torrential tides most of the people on this cruise are vomiting heavily over the sides and losing their nerves. I can only go above when it is night time and then, well I have to hunt to satisfy my thirst, so for now I am confined to my quarters playing my dark mahogany violin to myself to keep up practice, a soft enchanting melody that mother taught me when I was but a child, whenever I play this I almost feel her beside me soothing my loneliness away and for that moment she is real, I can smell her perfume and hear her voice as she sings to accompany the song she taught me, oh she sounded like an angel and she was more beautiful than anything the famous artists could paint and to be in her arms again, to curl up into a ball in her arms. A soft sigh escapes her lush and pink lips as silent tears flow unhindered down her still chubby cheeks.

[collettedisjardins]

That fateful Night:
The sound of alarms as the Police Constables arrived to make their examination of the scene. Oh the mess the make of mother's pristine white linen furnishings, so much red still splattered everywhere turning the white to deep crimson as the blood coagulates, the irony smell clings everywhere and for some reason unknown to me this scent strengthens a thirst that I have not known before, an unnatural thirst which compels me to the blood.

I shake my head to regain focus on the events that unfold around me my slender form feeling light suddenly, the room seems to spin as if I am to collapse again and then a creak as if a floorboard upstairs is being lifted, but why? What do they expect to find there? But wait my grandfather's fishing knife is there, moments later heavy footsteps come crashing down the stairs and I am being dragged with my arms restrained behind me by a large rotund detective into a waiting car, the image of the still forms of my parents growing further and further away.

I see my Grandfather's fishing knife covered in dried blood being placed inside an evidence bag and that is the last thing I see before the car I am in speeds off into the night towards my cell, sirens blazing, that knife, that night, the blood it seals my fate, for almost a lifetime I sit idling in one cell or another, often solitary confinement as I am deemed too dangerous for my fellow inmates and yet, still they have no idea what to do with me, they dare not let me out on the streets again, they would rather torture me for the rest of my days.

The Journey continues:

The clanking of silverware on a tray dislodges my thoughts to the present again as the workers aboard the ship bring me yet another meal I shall pretend to eat, for I can not eat human food like mortals can,but I make a vague attempt at hiding what I can by throwing it out of my cabin window as much as possible after they have left, but I can enjoy the wine at least so I do, or would if it was not yet another cheap bottle.

I give the worker a polite nod as he brings in my meal, what is it lunch? Dinner? Times are lost on me these days as day blends into day, still being here upon this ship travelling from port to port is no different from my days as a travelling girl when I was with my parents so the constant change is no different for me, the worker then informs me the next port is Louisiana where the captain advises us each to stretch our legs, we should approach Louisiana at nightfall and from there it is Brazil where my waiting lift will take me to the Amazonian jungle.

I fully am aware of the dangers of the jungle and have with me baggy cargo pants, a military shirt and jacket,a netted hat and survival kit consisting of a backpack which contains rashions and a fishing rod and kit, inside my backpack is my hunting rifle in pieces ready to be put together later, although I despise guns, they have the awkward habit of jamming when I least need it, my abilities are very often what I need as is my ring on my right index finger.

I watch the worker leave then I am alone once again in the creaky and leaky cabin left to my own thoughts and painful memories, I wonder what Louisiana has in store and if I would meet somebody of my own kind there, so lonely, so very lonely, the life of a vampire, especially the wrongly accused is never as glamorous as the modern movies try and make it seem.

The rest of the day goes by as uneventful as ever, the amorous couples wandering by declaring their love for each other loudly and openly, often in more ways then one often leaving little to the imagination until the ship quietens as much as possible, only the expanding and contracting wood is heard and the tide around the ship, the captain's voice is heard over the speaker systems that we have docked at Louisiana and we should prepare to exit in half an hour and be back to the ship in three hours maximum as the ship will be leaving shortly afterwards, for those of us leaving at Louisiana to have a safe and pleasant stay from the cruise company and staff. Have a nice day, how often that phrase gets used and for different meanings depending on the tone used.