Sitting in the library on the eve of my 13th birthday, the sun was
shining bright and warm against my pale skin. In my hands was a book
telling the history of my father’s side of the family. For the most
part, each tale that was told was written as a legend of some deed
done in the past. Some were tales of vanquished heros and soldiers
who were impaled upon long stakes and their hearts eaten and blood
drunk like wine. Although it sickened me to read such details, such
was the events of warfare back then in the uncivilized days prior to
my birth.
Just as I came to the part of the book where my father was the age I
was to become, a new tale was written there about his father.
Although the details in part were sketchy, the idea when pieced
together was simple. A gypsy woman who had long served my
grandfather had a son no older than my father was at the time. The
gypsy’s son unlike the stereotype the people had of that race was
wise, kind, and loving. He had learned that others who hated the
gypsies that served my grandfather was coming to the castle to kill
him dressed in the garb the gypsies wore. Although the enemies to my
grandfather were killed, by accident so was the gypsy’s son who came
too late to warn him.
When my grandfather came to the woman with the body of her son, she asked
who had killed her boy…her only son. My grandfather sorrowfully
admitted the deed in the course of relating the attack on him and his
family. Distraught over the death of her child, the gypsy woman
placed a curse upon my grandfather.
“When of age your son becomes, a war shall rage in your land. Upon
the field, your only son will die a horrible death from which he shall
return to be buried. Once in the ground for three days and nights,
he shall arise the undead forever hunting the night for blood. So
shall be his fate for all time unless he is destroyed by stake, fire, and God.”
Reading this story, I knew that the curse was meant to turn my father
into a vampire destined to wander through time as an undead void of
soul and forever a horrible and terrible monster to be hated and
feared. As hot tears stung my eyes, I closed the book and set it
upon the shelf where I got it from.
“Lady Alice,” our dear loyal servant Jacob said softly to me “are you
alright?”
“Jacob, there is something I just read in the book of family legends
about my father having been cursed to become a creature of darkness.
How much of that story is true,” I asked softly.
“That is something that you must ask your father tonight when he
returns home from his business,” he said with a sigh. “It is not my
place to explain something that does not pertain to myself.”
“Then tell me what you know of the legend and what it says please,” I
said softly.
With a sight, he hesitated and looked at the clock. It would be hours
yet until the evening would come.
“Very well,” he said “but remember this is only what I have heard
tell in the village amongst the fools that hate your father.”