Beneath the Sigil

The rest of the school day proceeded with a semblance of normalcy. In the final period, a study session took place due to Mr. T's early departure for a dental appointment. After informing the substitute that I desired a quiet place to study, I headed to the library to catch up on missed work. I was fully determined to catch up on my assignments, but the journal beckoned me.

Early Summer, 1676

I find myself forgetting the days before I became this accursed thing that doth crave blood. No longer can I summon the memory of who I once was. Methinks I must have been a person of some consequence, else why would Master have chosen me above one of lesser stations?

Blood is my foremost thought upon waking and the last as I take to my cold slumber. 'Tis an existence, aye, but to what end, I cannot rightly say. Master doth declare that our bodies are stilled at the hour of our human death; we move not forward as the mortals do. We are the eternal predator, ne'er satisfied, ever ravenous for the next delicate prey deemed worthy of our hunt.

I confess, I find the chase a curious delight. Yet, there lingers within me a shadow of hatred for the monstrous being I have become. At times, as I gaze upon the still forms of the dead—those who have truly found rest—I am overcome with envy. Surely they are at peace, their spirits fled to some tranquil beyond, whilst I am bound to this wretched frame, a creature that knows no rest nor solace. 

An eternity lies before me, an unending hunt in the shadows, and I cannot help but wonder if the true mercy lies in the grave I was denied.

-T.D.

A shiver of fear moved up my spine as I read the last sentence of the passage. Flipping the page I wanted to know more. Would he ever not feel trapped in his existence, I had to know.

Winter, 1677

'Tis been six months, I reckon, though I know not with certainty. Time, it seems, doth flow differently for me now, slipping as water through a sieve. Yet by the chill that clings to the air and the revelry I heard upon the streets, I know the New Year hath come and gone.

A strange shift hath taken root within me since the night I began this cursed existence. The hunger, though ever present, no longer commands me as it once did. Its grip, though firm, is less fierce than before. I did beseech Master for understanding of this change, yet he was sparing in his counsel, giving me but fragments of truth. From this, I do gather that there may come a time when the hunger shall lessen its hold still, and I shall find myself in greater command of this wretched state.

Last eve, I did take the life of a young maiden. She did beg me for mercy, as many have before her, and like many before I was deaf to her pleas. But lo, when her final breath had fled her lips, and her lifeless form lay before me, I was seized by a strange and bitter guilt. During the act, I knew only the dark delight of her screams, her trembling whispers, and the exquisite moment of her life's end. Yet, as I gazed upon her youthful shell, shame did creep upon me, for hers was a life so young, stolen by my monstrous hands.

Though I find pleasure in the hunt, the echoes of her cries now linger in my mind. I am, in truth, forever a monster, unworthy of the rest that mortals shall know.

-T.D.

Spring, 1677

As the world about me softened and warmed, I found myself longing for the touch of the sun, as it was in the days of my mortality. The air, though not yet warm enough to savor, carried a sense of renewal—a peaceful newness that only spring doth bring. The moon, cold and indifferent, granteth me no such pleasures, and for the first time since my cursed transformation, I yearned for the embrace of day.

I did wonder, could I steal but a fleeting glance at the morning sun? Might I endure long enough to feel its golden warmth before it claimed me, reducing my form to naught but dust? This thought, even now as I pen these words, doth weigh heavily upon me, its temptation near unbearable. Master did speak but once of the sun—on the first day of my new and damned existence. I must not walk in the light of day, said he, lest I be consumed, turned to ashes and forgotten.

And yet, I long for such an end. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, I will fear not evil, for through ashes, I may finally be cleansed. To be scattered upon the wind, to leave behind this monstrous existence, no longer a predator, no longer a terror, is a fate I would welcome. Let me be but a whisper upon the mortal plane, a distant, terrible memory, forgotten by the living.

-T.D.

Nearly Summer, 1677

Dark. Always dark. Blood, ever blood. Lust and blood, tangled together as one. My mind is neither here nor there, a fog through which I cannot see. I think, yet I cannot truly think, for my thoughts are consumed by the hunger, the endless need to consume.

I test myself, pushing the bounds of my restraint. How long might I endure on the blood of beasts? How long before my body rebels, demanding the lifeblood of a human? My mind is a wretched, jumbled mess, a storm I cannot quiet.

Death. I crave death. I long for its cold embrace, for the silence it would bring. An end to this ceaseless torment.

-T.D.

Summer, 1677

I ceased my writing, for the hunger overtook me, leaving me maddened and trembling. The blood of beasts is no sustenance for one such as I; it cannot sustain this cursed form. Master found me in my wretched state, nearly driven mad by the lust that consumed me.

He laughed, his voice a cruel echo in the dark, and with no care, he threw a young boy before me. "Drink, you fool," he sneered, his laughter ringing hollow as it filled the room.

I obeyed, for I could not resist. As the boy's lifeblood coursed into me, I felt my strength return, though my spirit withered all the more. What is this existence, that I must prey upon the innocent to endure? What is the purpose of such a life, bound to darkness and destruction?

I am a monster, and yet, I cannot even find solace in death.

-T.D.

"Miss." A hand touched my shoulder, and I jolted in fear, my heart leaping to my throat. I spun around to find Diann, the librarian, standing behind me, her green eyes soft but keen as they met mine. Her hand, now withdrawn, hovered slightly, as though she were ready to offer comfort should I need it.

Diann stood with an air of quiet confidence, her short red hair a fiery crown that framed her sharp features. The rich coppery hue of her locks caught the light with every turn of her head, complementing her pale complexion and the faint freckles scattered across her nose. Her green eyes, framed by delicate wire-rimmed glasses, were sharp and observant, always seeming to notice even the faintest rustle of a turned page or the slightest whisper.

"I didn't mean to startle you," she said gently, her voice carrying the soothing cadence of someone used to speaking in whispers. The faintest trace of a smile softened her freckled face, but her expression was tinged with concern.

I exhaled a shaky breath, attempting to gather myself. "I... I didn't hear you," I admitted, my voice barely audible as I avoided her gaze.

Diann tilted her head slightly, her short red hair catching the light in flickering shades of copper. "It's all right," she assured me, her tone kind yet deliberate. "I did not want to disturb you, however it's the end of the day and I'm getting ready to lockup."

I glanced down at my phone, and panic surged through me as I realized the time. With a jolt, I shot up from my seat, nearly knocking over the chair in my haste. "Thank you," I mumbled, gathering my scattered belongings with clumsy hands. "I can't believe I lost track of time."

Diann stepped back to give me space, her calm demeanor unchanged. "It happens to the best of us," she said with a knowing smile, her voice light with amusement. "Books and quiet spaces tend to do that."

I slung my bag over my shoulder and managed a sheepish grin in return. "Still, I should've been paying attention. Thanks for letting me know."

Diann nodded, adjusting her glasses with a graceful touch. "Be safe out there, Miss. And if you find yourself in need of another refuge, the library doors are always open." Her words lingered as I hurried toward the exit, her warmth leaving a mark on me, even in my haste to leave.

Within the bustling hallways filled with chattering students, my mind wandered to the journal's account of the man's existence as a vampire. I couldn't shake the weight of imagining myself in his shoes, faced with the choice of taking a life for survival, not duty. Lost in contemplation, I arrived at Professor Corvins classroom only to find him in the midst of locking the door, a furrowed brow of concern creasing my forehead.

"Oh, Lizzie," Professor Corvin greeted me with a smile as he turned around, though the warmth in his expression felt forced, more a facade than genuine.

"I thought you wanted me to see you after school?" I looked at the closed door and then back at Professor Corvin with a confused expression.

"Yes, I did… I do, but in my office. If you don't mind?" Professor Corvin said, his voice almost too enthusiastic, the words coming out with an artificial cheer that didn't quite match the heaviness that seemed to weigh on him. He flashed me a smile, too bright, too forced, but somehow, despite the effort, I could see the sadness lurking within his eyes as they met mine.

"Oh, okay... I guess," I said, my voice shaky with nerves, a subtle tremor betraying the unease coiling in my chest. Every part of me screamed to turn around, to leave, to find some way to escape the suffocating atmosphere that seemed to cling to Professor Corvin's invitation.

But instead, I stood there, frozen for a moment, caught between the impulse to flee and the need to comply. His gaze, still heavy with that strange, lingering sadness, only seemed to make my discomfort grow.

I forced a breath, trying to steady myself. "Lead the way, then," I added, though my words felt hollow in my own ears, lost in the growing tension between us.

Professor Corvin turned, and I followed him, each step feeling heavier than the last, as though the very air was thickening around me. His office was on the far side of the campus, so the walk stretched on longer than I anticipated, each moment filled with the sound of our footsteps echoing down the empty halls.

Despite my usual comfort in staying after school to meet with teachers, something about this felt different. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but the unease that crawled up my spine was undeniable. My mind kept drifting back to the way Professor Corvin had looked at me earlier, the mask of forced cheer, the sadness that flickered in his eyes, the way he seemed to carry some invisible weight.

This was the first time I was walking to his office, I thought to myself, trying to justify my anxiety. However, I had to admit that I have never quite felt this way staying after school before, in other classrooms, with other teachers. This time...something felt wrong.