Memoirs of A Forgotten:

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Chapter 6 (v.1) - Entry 6: False Pedestals and Passions.

Submitted: April 11, 2007

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Submitted: April 11, 2007



Memoirs of a Forgotten

Entry 6

Often I think upon the sun the way a normal, a mundane would think about the fabled three or four am. They know it exists, many have even experienced it once upon a time, but it is the prolonged exposure to that time that is detrimental to their health and makes them unwilling to be conscious at that hour... If they can help it of course. Simply put, many would rather turn over in their early graves than willingly open up their eyes and see three or four am for themselves. Much is it the same with myself with the sun. Oh I could willingly see the sun if I wished but though they call me lunatic, I am not THAT insane.

I realize it has been long since I have scribbled upon your pages. I ask pardon. The recoils of memory threw me into such a fit I scarcely could raise my head, let alone lift a writing tool. Forgiv............

I laugh at you Journal for who are you that I should beg pardon of you? You are nothing more than a scrap of paper in a leather bound coil that is drenched in the misery of me. Who am I that I should so drowned you with these tales and then ask forgiveness for not forcing the poisons down your throat at a quicker pace? I shall write at my leisure when the flow that is time slows its drill upon my brain and what brittle frailty that is the semblance of my sanity coils itself again into being.

Perhaps I am the fool, perhaps I am the lunatic those of my kind call me....Perhaps.... I am still far too young in this cycle and I have yet to grow cold, sterile and be the savage predator, the willing murderous and easily manipulated tool that I know my Sire wishes me to be. He wishes to mold me, shape me to his own devices. I know too much of myself, too much of what we are capable of to become the brutal fledgling he desires of me. I am beyond that and my eyes in my dreams have shown me countless cycles where once yes, I had thrown myself into the most basic of our nature. Where I had let my thirst consume me, drive me. Where I had let myself follow the lead of countless others only to perish and start from scratch when their blades pierced my gorged flesh and my daggered teeth bit deep into their throats. I can no more go back to being those men and women of my day sleep that lived only on instinct than I can forget the images of the betrayals etched in my soul. I cannot de-evolve the knowledge of the previous cycles, I am forced to move beyond them with whatever it is I am to grasp of this ...of this turn of the wheel.

Essentially, to use a phrase I have heard often in the club, ' been there, done that, bought a tee-shirt and now its time to move onto the mall.' It is not that I am incapable of being primitive and instinctual, but that I have moved beyond it having already lived it without going through it myself.

Yes I know dear Journal that makes little sense, but when you have the capacity to close your eyes and see whole villages burning.... Cities cast in the red crimson of fire and blood with imposing mountains looming the shadow of death over the valleys.... And find your mouth watering; your eyes feral and the thirst so overwhelming you near lose control upon waking....You too will learn the wisdom that is controlling that beast, that predator before it can consume you with its hunger.

I sigh, remembering that in that fit that ceased my writings briefly upon your page I had nearly killed the man I scribed earlier here about. The one who seems not to know he is unlike the other mundanes and who somehow can block even me. Perhaps he is but a guise, with his dark chestnut long hair and his crisp amber eyes that petrify emotions and secrets that not even I, canderive from him.......

Yet that is nonsense, I would have sensed him would I have not? If he was one of my kind? I would know if that pale tanned flesh held the chill of my kind as he held me close as we danced upon the dance floor.... ... Wouldn't I?

Bah no. He is human, I heard his heart. I felt it beat across my chest as we moved in rhythmic sway to the rise and cresting energies of the crowd around us. He is human... No one of my kind would dare defy the Queen and the council... Unless.... Unless he was older in cycles and knew more tricks to disguise himself... Unless he was older in cycles and belonged to a realm not of the council... Not of the Queen... ... unless

If he is one of my kind, I cannot fathom him being a normal Forgotten... To pull off ... Tricks... Such as those... He must also then be an old soul... A host like me with knowledge that takes lifetimes to learn... Perhaps... Perhaps he is of the kind that I am more akin to than these dogmatic-trapped-in-the-past-fools that despise me for being able to walk among the vampiric humans freely. That despise me for being more human than perhaps I should still be.

No. If he is not human then I have been played the fool in letting him get as close as he has. I am not a fool.... Maybe a swooning Lady, dazzled by a pretty face.... A strong back... A full longing gaze....

A... ...but not a fool.

In my fit, my emotions wild, letting myself loose in the void of the music his eyes played at me. Begged me, called me to lose that last bit of control I had and drag his secrets from him with my fangs. Use tricks upon him and betray myself to not only him but all the vampiric's in the room when they would feel my energy spike and my full self come to the fore.

My eyes were wild at his neck... my breath ragged... my skin growing with that same crimson fire my Sire's had had before he loosed himself upon me. If this man was not like me at that moment....then at that moment I was willing to sire and make him mine. Crowded club, vampiric's and mundanes be damned...He would be mine.

A few of my vampiric friends looked up at the faint taste of my crimson energy rising steadily and flooding the room... I felt their presences sweep across the crowd, it jolted me lucid and quickly I reeled myself in and made myself the same as the others in the crowd. I continued to dance with the man as if nothing had happened, though out of the corner of my eye I saw the true sensitives of my friends rise up slowly and walk amongst the crowd.

The levels of sensitivity vary greatly among the vampiric but with each generation the minimum raises up a notch and the maximum increases. There were two medium range sensitives in my group and only one slightly above them. They are the perfect bloodhounds if used correctly and many before awakening to themselves and realizing they are of a slightly different breed than the mundanes, often track unknowingly and knowingly my kind.

The three stalked the crowd for me, not knowing it was me they were drawn too. They walked towards me. I was the fourth member of the sensitives, the core, of the group. Their eyes scanned the crowd for the source of the spike. The eldest of them tapped me on the shoulder and whispered in my ear asking if I had felt the overflow. I nodded that I had and whispered I would follow shortly. Quickly I wrapped up my dance with the man who's being defied me and kissed him teasingly before we parted ways and I followed the three through the crowd.

As I left I saw the man's lips pull back slightly in a small barely noticeable smirk.

I spent the rest of the night tracking myself through the crowd and leading the House elder and the core by the nose. A House being a group of vampiric individuals attempting to understand themselves and guide others in their understandings. Being what I am, I am the most sensitive to the flows and ebbs of energy than any of them. However, to secure a spot that would grant me the most protection and the least suspicion in the Houses I joined, I had passed myself off as a young one with a lack of control over my sensitivity and essentially as the little sister everyone could go to if they needed a shoulder or a friendly ear. Those two things combined with my lack of wanting advancement in the House secured me a place of trust in the inner circle. I would laugh silently some times when they thought they used me in their civil wars, after all, though the 'naive, untrained, innocent and young ' one's rare intuitions proved eerily close to true events... She nonetheless was only a young one they could mold, exploit and not feel threatened by for she was always neutral and could be counted on to be the middleman between arguing members. Oh how I laugh if they realized what this "young one" was capable of.

But then...If they knew what I was....If they knew... Would they kill me? Would they seek to harm me as I know there are groups out there who wish it? Would my protecting these...friends...from others like me count in my favour or would they see it as holding them back from the knowledge that they seek to understand themselves with?........Sometimes I regret betraying that trust by not telling them, showing them... Teaching them what they only grasped at and touched at lightly by being what they are. If only I could trust that they would not fall into human nature that is to destroy what they do not understand. Or worse..........Revere me, covent me.... Hold me up on false pedestals for being what I am.... I am nothing. I am nothing than a creature the world has forgotten and only barely glimmers at in legends and myths....

I am nothing, yet I have no wish to die...........Or to be Forgotten, like the noonday sun.

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