Death Undying

Reads: 169  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 1

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
Die to live forever. Forever is a long time when all you think about is vengeance.

Submitted: January 16, 2013

A A A | A A A

Submitted: January 16, 2013



The Tale

I am dead, yet now I live forever, to die alone. It is a long story, but if you are prepared to listen, I am prepared to tell you. You will feel as I felt, see as I have seen. Loved how I have loved, and known what I have lost. You will not understand, and may not comprehend. These things have come in time. Much time.


17, September, 1801

Candles flicker through an open window. My wife sits awaiting my return from a venture into town for a special-prepared anniversary gift. This will be the mark of a new beginning for us, the first year on a long awaited journey into happiness for us both. We are young lovers, set on growing old together on the plantation of my father. (God rest him.) It is a grand estate. I approach the double front doors, to find them cracked. A small sliver of light from the chandelier creeps through the thin space left between the solid oak doors. The stain of the wood is dark, contrasting the pearlescent fore-pillars and white wood slatted exterior. My heart races as I think of the possible surprise waiting beyond the entrance. I imagine her beautiful face, trimmed by her long, straight, dark brown hair as it elegantly flows down past her neck, falling just beyond her perfectly shaped shoulders. Behind itsparkle her light green eyes, glinting in the candle light of our bed chamber. I envision her sweet smile, leering at me through her perfect lips, only slightly parted to reveal her teeth.

I slowly push open the door, bathing in anticipation of the night to come. There is silence. A silence that stills my soul, and quiets my heart. I look to the staircase to see what look like small rose petals ascending the stairs. As I get closer, I bend to pick one up off of the floor. The wood is cold as I brush my fingers over a tiny red spot, smearing it on my fingers. The spots are no petals at all, they are liquid. An icy feeling chills my heart, as it begins to pound in my chest. I follow the trail of droplets, with my eyes, with each step. Time seems to freeze as my mind races at the possibilities. “Anne, my love? Where are you?” I call out desperately. The only response I hear is that of my own voice as it reverberates between the walls, echoing off of the wood floor.

As I climb the stairs, despair fills my being. I look through a half opened doorway, leading to our bedroom. Coming nearer to the door, I see a corner of the bed. A hand lies limp over the bedside. Her hand. I reach out with the palm of mine, pushing the door open, leaving crimson fingerprints on the white paint. There she lay, in a gorgeous yellow gown, tainted by the red of her blood. I race to her side, clambering over an overturned chair and broken mirror. As I grip her arm, she is cold. Her eyes open, staring out the open window. Her once warm, loving touch is clammy. The rich life in her eyes extinguished, as the life that once was in her body. Wounds on her neck look like that of an animal. Jagged pin-pricks line her throat, as if bitten. For the first and only time in my life, I had found a love that was mine. In one moment, it is gone. A pain and anguish fill the freshly carved hole in my heart. She is gone. My lover and best friend, taken from me on the night of our first anniversary. As the feeling of loss and despair hit me, my body fills with sadness, attempting to expel itself through my lungs, I cry out a long wail of agony.

This is the last night I will spend in this place, as the memory will be forever in my mind. Unable to forget, unable to forgive not only myself, for leaving her alone, but also to forgive the culprit, whom I vow to spend the rest of my days hunting. I will find the man, thing, or beast that took my beloved from me.


Months pass. I am hell-bent on throwing my life, belongings, and fortune, into liquor and gambling. I have nothing left. Why spend my prosperities on a life that will never be happy again? It is useless trying.

One night, I sit at a pub table, across from a large man, throwing my money into wagers with card games I will never win. I toss in the last of my money, one very large sum, in an attempt to do away with it. The man across from me does the same. It is a game of luck, and numbers. As we turn over our cards, the winner is revealed. Me. He Jumps at my collar with his large, meaty fists, raising my body from my chair, knocking the table over, scattering the cards on the floor.

“You are a cheat!” he screams

“I did not want your money, sir, but now that I have it, I believe I will spend it here in this fine establishment, where I will most likely be sick in the morning, and forget this whole incident.”

I am not a small man, by any means. I stand at five foot eleven inches and have a nice amount of muscle on my body. I have grown my hair out since I have had no reason to keep groomed for anyone. Pulled back into a tail to keep a somewhat cleanly look about me, I stare into his eyes. My eyes revealing no emotion, only a cold hardness. Steady and intentional- I am not a man that you would like to fool with. In a swift motion, the edge of my hand meets the top of his forearm. As he releases the collar of my shirt from his grip, the man lunges at me with the other arm, hand balled into a fist. My legs are longer than his arms, and he catches the heel of my boot in his chest, knocking the wind from his lungs. Calmly, I gather my cards and earnings from the floor, taking the time to blow the dust from each coin. Rising from the floor, I turn to walk to a room I had rented in the space above the pub.

“You think you can leave with your dirty winnings, do you?”
The man says through a cough as he raises himself.

“Yes, and if I must take the time to bruise another of your ribs, sir, I will gladly do so.”

His gaze returned to the floor as he propped himself up against the wall behind where our friendly wager match had taken place.

I retired to my room after spending my earnings on a few cases of ale, to accompany me until I slept. Oh how I wished I would not awaken, but as the long nights passed, still I rise with the sun. As I take time to reflect on that thought, I empty another bottle… or two. I could feel my world begin to spin after a handful of drinks and I decided to strip to my undergarments and turn out the lamp. As I staggered over to it, I felt a cold enter the room. As I looked over to the window, I noticed the lace drapes sway in the wind. Taking a drunken and spinning moment to give it thought, I decided to hobble back to the bed. Turning around to face it, I was startled to notice a finely dressed man, sitting at the top of the mattress.

Sipping on one of my half drunk bottles of ale he said, “Ah, the pleasures of mortal life. Though the flavor is not sorely missed, the intoxication is pleasurable. If memory serves me correctly.”

Reeling in the buzz from my alcohol, it took me a moment to realize that I, in fact, was not hallucinating. “Who… and how?” I mumbled through hiccups.

“The how is not important. As for the who, I am Marcus Imbrel, and I have been watching you for some time.”

“How long have I been under your surveillance? And why?!”

I do not appreciate being spied upon. Much less having my living space intruded by strangers.

“You seem to have an attitude about you that you can live forever.”

“Or is it the attitude of a man that has nothing to lose? You haven’t any idea what cruelty life and god has put me through!”

“Ah it wasn’t god that took your wife, Mr. Geoffry Bloom. It was I.

How does he know my name?

It seemed that as he spoke those words, sobriety returned to my body, and filled it with a rage I have never felt. I jumped at him, going for his throat. He grabbed my outstretched arms with one hand, and spun me around, at the same time, restraining me, and sitting me in front of him on the bed.

“You haven’t got the discipline, nor the strength to harm me.”

As he spoke, he moved closer to my ear, enough to whisper, “You see ,Geoffry, I am about to bestow upon you a gift, a choice! One of tremendous proportion.Both heavenly, and hellish. Take from it what you will, and make it as you wish!” He seemed angry, almost yelling as he spoke. Without a moment to absorb what he has said, I felt the cool rush of my flesh being torn into at the neck. Shudders took my body, and I felt peeked immediately. Shortly after the cold shock of bodily injury, I felt a warm oozing of blood, flowing down my neck, and I became unconscious.

I woke hours later, squinting at the sunlight, through parted drapes. Stricken with fever, feeling weak, I struggled to sit myself up enough shield my eyes from the blades of light that seemed to be cutting into my skull. My body felt heavy, weighted with apathy to the world. What had happened? Had it all been a drunken dream? Was this feeling that of bad liquor? After giving it thought, I had decided that it was, in fact, all real! I reached up to feel the sting of two fresh pin pricks on my throat, and the dry crust of blood that surrounded them. Was I turned? No, for the sunlight did not harm my flesh, my skin was warm and living. What had been done to me? What gift? What choice? All would be revealed in the coming of the next night.


As the day had passed, I grew weak, and ill. I could not bear the pain of movement. As I closed my eyes again, in an attempt to shut out my suffering, I felt the same cold as I did the night before. And again sat Marcus Imbrel, at the foot of my bed.

“You! What have you done to me?!”

"As I said, I have given you a gift. The choice to accept it is yours. Take it, and live forever- Do not, and die here, now.”

“Death” I replied in a low whisper.

He was at my throat, faster than I could blink. His jaws clamped around my neck, razor fangs piercing my flesh once more. As I grew weak and cold, he spoke again.

“Death, as you wished, is right ‘round the corner. I have drained you, you have moments left. I ask you once more. Live to see all, and die, to have seen little?”

I trembled. The pain was unbearable, it felt as if lead were passing through my veins, tearing them apart one by one.

“DECIDE!” he yelled though a whisper.

With all I had in me, I managed to whimper one word-“Life!”

With that, he tore into his own wrist. His blood flowed over my lips. Disgusted at first, I winced, but in a moment the flavor of it was different. It was undeniably necessary, and my appetite for it, insatiable. I rose to it, locking my mouth around the wound, draining the blood from him as if it were juice from a fruit. He struggled, then tore himself from my grasp. Instantly, a pain unlike any other took my body. I attempted to cry out, but it was far too intense. As the feeling took my body, I died. I became undead. Immortal.

As I came to, I noticed that I felt different. My entire being had been altered. The cold of undeath embraced me, and I felt… entirely awake. Knowing and aware of all things around me, and my thirst seemed unquenchable.

“I will show you how to live, in death. Tomorrow, you will feed for the first time. For now, sleep.”

He led me to the chest at the foot of my bed and flipped the lid open.

“Lucky that you had enough coin to purchase the large one, Else you would not fit.”

With that, he motioned for me to get in, and I did.

“Why here?” I thought.

“Anywhere else, and those blades of light you felt from the morning, would surely be the end of you. Yes, Geoffry. I know your thoughts. It is a skill, that in time, you will learn as well. Manipulation is much easier when you are aware of the prey’s inner desires.”

With that, he closed me in, and I fell asleep as if I were in my own bed. Back at home… At home.

© Copyright 2018 ZackSoldier. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:




Booksie Popular Content

Other Content by ZackSoldier

Against All Evil

Book / Historical Fiction

Death Undying

Miscellaneous / Other

Popular Tags