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Memoirs of A Forgotten:

Novel By: Aranea
Other



It is a Fictional story told in journal entry format of a Forgotten, retelling her existance from begining to end. The story is set in a future time period not far removed from present day; however, there are events in her life that occur in historical re-creational areas dedicated to such periods as "The Renaissance" or our own era,ect... This adds an interesting perspective of her personal views of the world when she is ultimately thrust into the "modern era" recreation with her old soul in tail.

((I started writing this using the various other stories i have written but never finished, as well as mixing in a few other sources. I have actually three versions of this on my computer, but this format is more post board friendly. The first version is much shorter, the second is more fleshed out which someday i hope to turn into an actual novel of sorts and then the third format/version that i will post here. This journal entry version summarises the events in the fleshed out version but, this version is told in the main character's point of view.

Take care and be well.
E.VA
))

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Chapters:

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

Submitted:Apr 12, 2007    Reads: 127    Comments: 1    Likes: 0   


MEMOIRES OF A FORGOTTEN

Entry 1:A Retelling of My Betrayal.

In short I am the by product of an experiment conducted by one the forgotten races, vampires, in the study of the human soul. The study of the human capacity of mimicry in regards to the vampiric, how it related to the vampiric condition and how it related to the much conjectured vampiric soul. Though I do not know his bloodline, my creator one might say, was indeed a vampire and was far older and more temperate than most I have come across even now that I am also one of them. To me he was as much of a parent, a guide, a mentor and a friend as my own flesh and blood. I grew up mortal under his watchful eyes and the obedient ones of my parents, his pets, as the term is coined. I grew up mortal, knowing of the forgotten kind and the forgotten ways for my creator had seen in me something he had been searching for, an old soul.

Even as I clung to my mother's breast he would stare into my eyes and tell her at length about them. He would sit in his chair opposite her and tell her over and over again his theories of how the soul transcended from mortal death into the immortal form and when true death stole that form, the immortal soul moved to the heavens and repeated its cycle. The immortal soul would then be reborn into a few rare humans who possessed the capacity to host that old soul, until of course they themselves became changed. He believed that these cycles continued until the soul learned all the lessons of life and that once the immortal soul completed all its life cycles it would return to the void and become the substance for new souls with no previous lifecycle knowledge to be born. "Only the immortal soul, one touched once during a cycle to the life of the vampire," he reasoned. "Could return to learn the vast knowledge that was mortal and immortal life. "His theories of course were shunned and mocked by his peers but nonetheless he continued in his obsession, thus breaking tradition and teaching me the entirety of his knowledge. Absolutely, convinced I contained inside me one of these old souls. Even to this day I still have troubles fathoming his meanings.

Most lessons I indeed caught on very quickly as if having prior knowledge I knew not wherefrom, where as others such as operating a teleporter boggled my mind. I was quick to learn traditions and old knowledge but such mechanical marvels of this age seemed beyond my grasp and I must admit. often frightened me. It was thus that I grew to adulthood, under the care and guidance of a vampire and into the life of honor, respect and responsibility that came with my parent's station in our lord's home.

So diligent was his training and education of me in the forgotten realm that from birth my mother's milk was tainted also with her blood. He fostered in me the desire and thirst of life's blood in such a way that I had no knowledge that I did not truly require it to live. Nonetheless, my blood chilled and I grew weak if I did not sate that desire in a timely manner. My essence often screaming at me that though I did not need it, it demanded the energy of life's blood. I know now that my Lord did it so that when the real thirst occurred I would know how to temper it without frenzy, like many a newborn or un-counseled fledgling. My abilities of the mind also grew under his tutelage, though I had a natural knack as one might say for manipulating the energy flow through a person's chakras... It was under his guidance that while mortal I learned control.

With this control and all my remembered knowledge combined with my Lord's teaching led me not to question my being different from the others in his court. Nor did my abilities and his trust in me grant me an ego of superiority over the other mortals. In fact, my knowledge and my abilities made me feel weaker, feel vulnerable to the true humans because my third eye lay exposed for all to see and prod at unknowingly. Only now do I realize his raising of me as close to him as he could make me and my old soul would allow while I still remained mortal, was to prepare me for when the council demanded my turning. No mortal was allowed to know the true breadth of the knowledge I contained by simply being born. In their eyes I was an abomination and went against what they knew and accepted as doctrine. I was thought to be no more than a human plaything of an insane fool and I needed to be put down because no mortal should know what I do, did and had the ability to do. My Lord hoped to prepare me for when the council demanded my death, either mortal or into immortality.

He trusted me, my Lord did, above all others in his court because I knew no other life than that which he had crafted and allowed my old eyes to remember. I did not know of a life that was not bound to the forgotten ways and thus could not know of or be tempted to move out on my own. My loyalty was beyond thought and above question to my third parent, my mentor and my friend. So much so that he would keep nothing from me and often use me as a soundboard for his frustrations and theories. Thus in my mortality I knew and learned more than many a fledgling would learn from any sire for only one thing did he keep from me, the rest he told and taught me all.

The one thing he left my mortal mind in darkness about was that my very existence was a secret. Never told me that had the council known I was still actually mortal, my Lord's life would be forfeited to his rivals if he did not correct his error. The day the council found out, came on the eve of my twenty second year. That morning my Lord had received a letter from the council to end my life; at the time I did not question the order to burn the letter, nor think to read its contents before doing so. So I obediently and willingly in that one matchstick, I signed my Lord's death warrant unknowingly.

The following night, my birthday, like a thief in the night my Lord's rival descended upon our home, slaying all before him in his quest for my Lord head. His army of brutish pets, cruel fledglings and vicious generals slaughtered my parents and all I had held dear, without mercy or regret on their brows. In the blood crazed frenzy that was that night, only my Lord and I stood alone against the horde when the dust of the initial attack settled.

It was then in that room surrounded on all sides that I had first realized that my Lord had come to not view me as an experiment but as much more; perhaps daring me to think, he valued me as the daughter he said he could not have physically fathered. I had been angry at him, demanding that he should have accepted the council's demand, should have killed me so as to prepare himself for the battle that was going to rage before us; yet, my Lord refused. Even though I saw him consider it, he refused to do so, telling me. "Live, live one more day and you will do right by me. If I am to perish, do not avenge me."

Those words haunt me even now because later in my life the decision which brought me to my life now would be motivated by vengeance over his death.

In the ruins of the shattered door, my Lord and I fought bravely until I was pinned against a wall, held to the cold brick and forced to watch the battle of high lords before me. In the cruel and vicious battle that would determine our fate my Lord fought valiantly and would have proven the victor had his obvious fondness for humans had not been exploited by the rival. Just as I had signed the death warrant of my Lord with a single match stick, I was the instrument of his execution when my cry of pain, as my ribs shattered below a balled fist, disrupted his victory stroke and allowed the rival to slay him before my eyes.

In the rival's victory celebrations, parading about the circle with my Lord's head in his palm, the guards holding me relaxed their grip enough to allow me to escape. I still do not know by what luck I got past the horde but the rival did not pursue me. His orders were to deliver my Lord to death and to take me at his leisure either into the fold or to kill me. Absorbed in his victory, he allowed me an extension on my life and did not chase after me.

I fell into madness at all that I had witnessed, all that I knew. I now had to function without a mentor, a parent, a friend and a legal way to sate my thirst. The horror of it all sent me into shock and I quite literally awoke from the nightmare another person. This person had no knowledge of the vampiric, vampires or the forgotten ways and races; nor could she even remember her own name.

The person I became in my madness wandered the world scraping by what little she could, waiting tables and dancing at the clubs. She wandered the world with an ache in her soul that not even the heartiest of meals could sate. This woman would spend all her spare time absorbed in the latest textbook she had acquired and soaking up the knowledge of ages, intent on remembering who she was but finding next to nothing of the memory of me returning. Her curiosity knew no bounds and her scholarly demeanor even while dancing attracted the crowds. She would be able to recite full poems and other fancies for her exotic patrons in languages and rhymes long forgotten. Her hips would move unbidden to dances of old without a thought from her mind, to delight and entertain but not one word or thought of the forgotten knowledge hidden deep in her mind, where I resided, would surface. I was happy in my madness, though I knew of trivial sorrows of day to day life and an ache, which was the thirst unfulfilled, making me eat veraciously. Being the woman of madness was the one point of my life and even my changed life up to now, that truly I have never been happier.

It was in the clarity of seeing the rival again and hearing his laughter that shattered my madness and plunged me into the darker, more cruel hell, of reality. He had come to see if truly I had forgotten everything and thought to entertain him-self with my amnesia if it were true. The woman I had become entertained him in her dancing-cage. She spoke flowery poems in languages forgotten to human ears and recalled long stories of epic battles for him to close his eyes as if remembering; but, it was not until she made a joke in an old tongue that his body shook with laughter and I was given horrid freedom from my madness. His laughter, the same as it had been standing over the corpse of my Lord echoed in my ears and shattered the glass prison of my insanity that kept me sane and kept the woman in control of my mind.

Unable to control myself with the wave of memories flushing back in my minds eye, I gave myself away by accidentally speaking a tongue only the forgotten races knew and proved myself lucid. Even then, by some sick twist of fate he found even my sudden uncontrollable fear amusing, he played with my mind, taunting me and threatening me from outside the bars. So entertaining must have been my quivering and my brave and my stupid comments were that he left the club, leaving me untouched and whole.

The woman of my madness had made her life here, in the town I awoke in, but in my return I could stay no longer in the place she called home. I ran. This time I ran in search of a Lord, one that would teach me the rest of what my Lord had tried to; one that would awaken my third eye again and strengthen its abilities. Most of all, I ran in search of a Lord of the forgotten races who would teach me how to kill the rival.

It was in my town hopping that I indeed found such a Lord. He taught me in exchange for my protection during his sleeping hours. He fed me both in food and in my blood thirst that had returned with my memory; a trait he found most amusing in a mortal. I told him of my tale, of what lead me to him and how I was able to identify him for what he was. He seemed amused and shocked at the breadth of my abilities as if not quite fathoming that they were possible in a mortal; wanting to know as much about me as I wished to know of the rival, this Lord took me in.

If only I had known now that I had, as I had done to my lord, sign my own warrant and had become the instrument of my own execution. If I had known, I may have kept running and sought again the comfort of the woman of madness the mercy of insanity. If I had known perhaps I would not have betrayed my true Lord's final wish.

This second Lord who I bound my service too was not as forthcoming as my third parent. This Lord held secrets that though he held them deep, I could feel him keeping them from me. Once when I had come close to the truth and accused him of knowing more about the rival then he let on; he disappeared. He vanished for a couple days until word was sent to me to return to him at a place of his choosing.

I was no fool I knew it was not safe for me to return to him, but having no other place to turn and unable to return to my state of naivety, I went and embraced my probable death. He promised me I could have remained mortal and left his charge unharmed but I knew that to be a lie; my true choice lay only in being taken by force or to accept my change willingly. I hated him for that.

He revealed to me that he had on his absence come across my rival and found him far powerful than I would ever defeat while mortal and if I would choose through him to enter the life of the forgotten, he would teach me how to defeat the rival. With mortal salt tears I cried, over my betrayal and accepted willingly his siring of me. Seeing my defeat and his victory assured in my eyes, he agreed to allow me one more sunrise; even then in that one more day I could have ran but instead I prepared for my funeral, for truly it was indeed my funeral.

It was in the blood exchange that I knew the depth of his treachery. My sire had been one of the generals at the slaughter of my home. He had personally been there to order the horde in and rip out the throats of my parents and loved ones. He had been there when the guard punched my side disrupting my Lord's victory stroke resulting in his subsequent death. This Lord had been there through it all. Indeed, he had even been sent by the rival to track me down and either to kill me or turn me. Thus I entered this life willingly but deceived.

My sire had a plan for me though and now that his contract with the rival was completed, he would hold true to his bargain of teaching me. His only condition was that in turn for not killing me out right I would obey him and his Queen's rules. I did not want to die, but I knew nothing of this matriarchy of which he spoke. The concept was foreign to me, for this was the age of transporters and flying machines and my true Lord had came from an elected council not a ridged stature of codes and ethics.

Hesitantly I agreed adding my own stipulation that I may leave his charge at any time. He had laughed at me, saying I was not bound to keeping my word but that if I wished such a condition so that I could leave his charge legally then so be it.

Thus I find myself here; trapped in the madness that is reality, bound by the traditions I cannot rid myself of and locked in formalities of an insane world. Perhaps dear journal, this is just a cruel joke of my mind and one day I will awake again, human and safe in my illusions of naivety to this Forgotten world.

I have not given in to my call for sleep for many days now, I shall write more at a later time perhaps. Or dear journal I may just wake from my dreams tomorrow and say a private eulogy to you as you burn upon the fireplace. We shall see.





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