The Eve of Our Misfortune
Women, the corrupter of men. It is she who always
plants the seed of rebellion deep within the mind of
the man she sets her sights upon. They tempt, they
lies of love, they spoil. Women ruin the men and
torment him with his sins--the very sins she birthed!
In the beginning, one woman destroyed all that was the
first man. Her daughters haunt his sons. They are the
Harpies that spoil the food, the Beansihde that both
mourns and calls death, Circe who made men into swine,
Hellen who's face launched a thousand ships and many
more men to their deaths, the Leanan Sidhe who loves
men briefly then leaves them to madness.
I loved one of these creatures, these women. My cost
is hefty, I paid dearly. I suffer, but no more than
what I desire her to feel.
I am a man torn to shreds by the tender claws of such
a foul beast. I will tell you my tale:
I lived a life of debauchery. I was noble and French
and, according to the way of things in that age, I had
free will to do as I wished. Brothels and gambling
houses were my vices. I had plenty of money to do as I
pleased....that was until I met her. Her name was
Viola. She was not cut from the same cloth as the
whores, nor was she as coy and dispassionate as the
women of my class and breeding. Viola moved with
unimaginable grace, her eyes glittered, her voice rang
with joys of Heaven.
In her spell, I went to her. She took my heart and
more than that....she stole the sun's warming rays
from me.
I awakened alone, in the darkness. I reeked of death
and thirsted for blood. I remembered her sharp teeth
and her cruel laughter; I was but a game to her.
I cursed her name, I wanted her blood to be the first
spilled into my thirsty mouth. Alas, Viola was nowhere
to be found and my need for blood pounded throughout
my very being. I settled on one of the others of her
cursed sex.
For centuries, I hid away from their charms in the
darkness. I sated my hunger with the blood of the
daughters of that harlot Eve. I traveled the world,
across seas, in search of the one that turned me, the
whore Viola. I would find her and end her.
I never found Viola.
I found myself in the modern age--the age of
automobiles and science. This world had little care or
reason for creatures as myself. I and those like me
were legend--mere myths. Being the object of lore has
several privileges. No one pays attention to vampires
and the ones that do, give their blood willingly. The
modern age is the age of the vampire!
In all my years, I stayed from the flesh of
women.....until a mortal one made me overcome my
hatred for them and turned it into desire.
Janice. Sweet Janice of the succulent pink flesh and
soft lips. Beautiful Janice of the tender breasts and
eyes that brightened even the darkest hours.
I fell for her. I wanted her to keep me company for
the rest of my years. She knew of my power and begged
me, with tears, to spare her from an early death. My
heart ached at the sight of her tears.
I shared with her my blood and laid with her in the
night.
My sweet Janice of her lies of love. My beautiful
Janice of desire and treachery.
The pain awakened me. The sharp wood in my heart. She
smiled from above me--a vicious smile that was! I had
given her all that I had and once she had that, there
was little use for me.
I wept out of anger. Betrayed twice with my love for
the fairer sex. She left me there--dying, in pain. As
my blood--the blood of so many others!--cooled in
puddles around my quickly decaying body, I pray that
my somber tale reaches the hearts and ears of men. Be
wary of these creatures, these women. Know my fate and
be aware that you too might suffer just as I have. In
the end: the Violas, the Janices, will cover us all
with dirt and bury us.
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