by A. L. Mengel
Antoine led Sheldon to the left to the parlor, where he and Anthony had their episodes, and Sheldon took a seat in the very chair that was blocking Paula’s view on that night she was peering at the men inside.
“Care for another drink sir?” Antoine asked, raising his eyebrows and also raising the crystal bottle of whiskey with his right hand, looking over at Sheldon.
Sheldon shook his head accepting the drink, and also lit up a cigarette. Drawing the smoke in and then promptly setting the cigarette in the ashtray on the small table next to the chair, he opened up the file that said THE ASTRAL on the side to a page that read “Antoine Nagevesh – Time Line” across the top.
“Okay Antoine,” he began. “Let me get a few facts straight here. Now, I know this is only our second meeting in person, but I need to know exactly what year you claim you were transformed.”
“It’s been so long since I have been a human, I honestly don’t remember the exact year.”
“Okay then.” Sheldon scribbled some notes on his legal pad, took a draw from his cigarette, and looked for a moment towards the ceiling. “And when did you break free from your maker’s tutorial?”
That question made Antoine flashback to his first vision after his mortal life, a vision that he still remembers to this day, and probably still will remember in several thousand more years: the face of his maker, Darius, the flowing, long, brown hair; silhouetted from the candle he was holding behind him, the coffin lid rising open to start a vision with my new eyes. Seeing from the eyes of an Immortal.
Wake up, sleepyhead.
“That’s right,” Sheldon said. “I need to know how long he was teaching you the ways of a vampire.”
“My dear, sweet man,” Antoine replied. “What do you take me for? A simple, silly vampire? Are you here to listen to my story or not?”
Sheldon gave his answer by closing the file, putting his pen down on the table, and reaching for the cigarette and taking a sip of whiskey. He leaned back.
“Very good, sir,” he said. “Now put down your pen, and close that file.”
*~*~*
Sheldon awoke with a start to a loud crash of lightning. His head was throbbing. His mouth was dry and parched, and his tongue felt swollen. He swung his legs onto the cold tiled floor. It was still dark outside – still raining with the occasional flash of lightning. Running his hands over his face and groaning deeply, he stopped for a moment, staring at the coffee table before him.
Hello, Sheldon. I am still here.
The silver recorder glistened before him, sitting amidst a sea of papers strewn about the coffee table from Antoine’s file. Emerging from the kitchen with a glass of water, he picked up the recorder, snatched out the disc and flopped it down on the table. Drawing a second disc out of the clear plastic sleeve, with a “#2” hastily scribbled in blue ink on the label, he put it in the recorder and pressed play…
“The walk home took a bit. I was not in the position to have a horse, so I had to walk across town, through the village square, and then onto Beaumont to continue the long walk through the thickly forested paths to my home. The night was cold, dark and uninviting. The moon was new, but there was some light. Enough light to barely make out what was in front of me.
“I could see the sparkling of the New River ahead, through the trees. But I could barely see the ground in front of me, and walked slowly for fear of tripping on a twig or a stone and injuring myself.
“The wide path was lonely tonight. I stopped for a moment. Silence. I looked towards the sky and saw a shooting star. And when I brought my head back down, standing before me was the man in the black coat, glaring at me, staring at me with cold uninviting eyes. He stood several feet in front of me, and appeared misty. Looking at his feet, there was a white vapor swirling below him on the ground. My breath stopped in my throat.
“I could only stare back at him. I was still as a statue…unable to move - my muscles taught and tight and tense.
“How had the man followed me? It was such a silent night. There had been no rustling of leaves, no twigs snapping, no feet dragging on the earth. No rustling of the gravel except from my own feet. I stared at him, unable to speak, and I saw that he started to fade! I could just barely make out the trees and the water of the creek down the path behind him, ever so slightly.
“And then it happened.
“As he faded he grew brighter, so bright that it became blinding.
“My lungs became hot and crying for air, and I exhaled and my eyes began to blacken as my brain succumbed and I fell to the ground in an unconscious unmoving pile of a mortal.
“I do not know how long I had been out, but it was still dark when I awoke. I was breathing very heavily, as if I had been running and out of breath, but I had not moved anywhere. I was paralyzed with fear. I opened my mind to the terror of simply being alone.
“He was no longer there. I was alone.
“Where did the mysterious man go so quickly? Had it been that short of a time? How long had it been? I desperately had to find out, and find out where the man had gone. Or even, how he got before me in the first place without me knowing. Right now I hated so much to be alone.
“The ground was still covered with a light, white colored mist. The air was damp and cold. I shivered, and grasped my arms to myself to try to keep warm. I could not remember ever being so cold. And the woods! How they seemed to be alive, yet so dead at the same time.
“I stared into the thick, distant woods. Deep beyond my eyesight, I heard a slight rustling of the leaves. I stopped breathing for a moment, and stopped my arms from rubbing on my chest for warmth.
“Where was that sound coming from? Who was rustling in the woods? Was it him? No, it couldn’t be.
“Probably just a deer.
“I wanted to go home, to be away from this desolate path covered in cold mist, to be warm in my bed, under the covers, and to forget this walk home ever even happened. But then the rustling came again.
“Louder. Closer.
“I started to breathe, but my breath was labored. I did not want to be out here alone any longer.
“I scanned the woods for anything – anything at all. I squinted, for I could not make out what I was trying to see through the limbs. I dared not move my feet. The rustle of the gravel would have drawn attention to me. The rustle in the woods seemed methodic in nature, and was not by chance, at least it seemed. Was there a pattern to it? Like someone or something was trying to intrigue me? To capture and keep my undivided attention?
“So I stayed still, in one spot, and dared not move. But I leaned forward, squinting still, and peered - the best I could - into the woods. I shuddered and held my breath what I saw. My fists clenched. My skin started to crawl on my body.
“I was overcome with terror.
“I was staring into a pair of intense red eyes before me. Staring at me through the thick of the trees.
Staring right back at me.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
…“I broke into a run. My coat flailed behind me, the strap flapping in the cool, damp wind. I did not want to find out how my hallucination had manifested itself. My heart started to beat faster, and I sprinted closer and closer to salvation. Yet at the same time it seemed so far and unattainable. As I turned to run, the rustling came closer and closer. Then it stopped. I heard a grinding, like gravel on sand.
“He is following me.
“Or who was it? The uncertainty of what or who was chasing me preyed on my mind like a wolf attacks a sheep who has wandered far off from the pasture at the edge of the meadow where it meets the dark, evil woods. The noise, the horrible sound – rustling, tree branches snapping and falling was coming at me from all directions.
“Something was pursuing me.
“I did not know what to do, or where to go, I just moved forward - running, sweating, with my eyes closed, wishing and praying that this night would be over, and wondering where this being was.
“But what was in the woods moved wi
th me.
“I did not have time to stop and think. My legs did the thinking for me. Their muscles carried me down and back, back to where I longed to be, back into my bed and safety. But then, I had to stop. The grinding stopped. The rustling stopped.
“The night again became eerily silent.
“Was I still being followed? I stopped running just as I stopped breathing. All of a sudden, the night stood still. Even the water ahead made no sound. I was at a break in the woods, where the small brook ran through; I saw myself standing before a small wooden bridge that crossed the brook.
“A cricket sang in the distance.
“The moonlight shined through the clouds above and reflected across the brook, and it made it seem brighter than it actually was. I could hear my heart beating, and my breathing was low and labored.”
“And then, a voice. ‘Good evening, Antoine.’
“I could not bear to turn around. As soon as he greeted me, as soon as he said my name, I closed my eyes. But how did he know my name? Who was this?
“A luminescent hand that seemed to reflect the moonlight reached around and placed itself on my chest, right over my heart. The hand looked human, save for the fact that it was so incredibly pale and glowing.
“Your heart….’ He said, slowly and passionately towards my left ear.
“I could feel his hot breath on the side of my face.
“Your heart is beating so fast my fine friend. Are you scared of me? Why don’t you turn around and face me?’
“I let a deep breath release in a long, deep sigh. I turned, but I kept my eyes closed. His arm was reaching across the other side of my torso, the hand moving towards mine, down my forearm, settling on my hand, offering a great contrast to our color: his, white and pale, yet elegant; mine dark, and muscular. His fingers intertwined with mine, and held my hand as if he were my lover.
“And then I was facing him. And I opened my eyes.
“There he was, right before me.
“The man that came to me years before when I was living in Badulla - there before me on that still night. His eyes were blue and beautiful. Had he been the one who was following me?
“I have selected you…’ he said slowly. I did not know what he meant, or what he meant to do by saying that. The night remained still and quiet. It was just he and I standing next to the water His lips, close to mine, so close as if he meant to kiss me and I could feel his hot breath on my face, as he uttered the five words that made my hold my breath inside of me: ‘You will be my child.’
“I did not know what to do or say.
“He had me under his seductive power. I could not object or even try or begin to struggle, even if I had wanted to.
“I opened my eyes, and looked down. The tree tops were far below. We were high in the sky, moving in the clouds. I could see the bridge and the brook where he came upon me, I saw the path where I saw the red eyes, where I was running from the sounds and the eyes which I could not determine where they were.
“We appeared to be traveling faster and faster. He was not looking ahead of us or down at all. His eyes were closed, and he seemed to be enjoying being with me.
“And then we went into the clouds to where I could see nothing. And I began to feel such exquisite pain, it overtook my senses.
“Every sensation was heightened. A darkness overtook my eyes, stars danced in front of me, with all the bright colors of the spectrum, and I breathed hard and shook. The pain was so wonderful, it was like a security that I had not known before, of something or someone who I always, always longed to be with and be a part of - now it was finally here.
“The pain felt good and reassuring.
“It was a pleasure so intense that I had not experienced its kind before. I grew hard and was harder and larger than I had ever been before. The clouds were all around us, and we were floating on the air.
“We spun around and around, high above the land, and time seemed to stand still. There was no one around but the two of us, and I was in such an illustrious state! How wonderful it was! To be in that position, was total and utter pure ecstasy, and I was reveling in it. I was taking the ultimate pleasure, gasping, constantly ready, knowing that of all the human pleasures I would partake of in my past, they could not compare to what I was experiencing in the clouds. Intertwining limbs, spinning a web of lust and passion, entangling in the rapture and passion of the moment.
“And then, soon as it may, before I could totally partake in all that I wanted to partake of in this wonderfully, deliciously fine moment, I began to see darkness. I was not closing my eyes, yet the darkness was taking over my vision as if I were. At least I did not think that I was closing my eyes. My faculties were with me, but only partially, and they were fading fast, like daylight when dusk takes over.
“And then there was total blackness.
“My mind began swimming with thoughts, thoughts like an ocean of information easing through my brain, love particles dancing in my head. I saw myself as a child, saw myself helping my father when I was a boy, a strapping young man.
“I saw myself taking care of my family and my sisters and my mother, helping when my father passed away and becoming the man of the family shortly thereafter, I saw when darkness began to overtake my life. I saw when I began to spiral downward into a sexual deviant that I have been today. When I began to live a life of lust. That is when the images became more vivid and more difficult to control.
“I saw what I did, and saw that what I did was such an abomination. And it was a lovely, treasured thing. And I saw it now. I saw why I was chosen. The things I did, the acts that I committed, was an abomination to God.
“”Yes, you are right’, the voice said.
“I heard those words, somewhere, speaking to me in that blackness. The sweet echo of the beautiful male voice resounded in my head, mixing with the clatter of my thoughts and brainwaves. I could hear myself speak, but I did not know where it was coming from.
“I know now! I know!’
“I did not know where my body was, I could not see anything. But I was having this strange revelation.
“You will see when you are reborn in the demonic darkness.’
“Again, those words. That comforting male voice, singing into my ears, soothing and eloquent, like a father: ‘What do you see now? What do you see before you?’
“I could feel my breath within me, I could feel my heart beating in my chest, in that area, that was supposed to be my chest. I looked down, yet saw nothing. The blackness was still there, and it still enveloped me. The misty darkness. Where was I?
‘Now, what do you see?’
“I saw myself.
“The darkness remained and I began to feel a heaviness lift from me. I knew something was odd, something was different. The visions did not come anymore.
“I then heard the clicking of a lock of some sort, and the blackness began to dissipate, and light began to filter into my world that I was in. And then I realized where I was.
“And when the lid of the coffin that I was in was fully opened, there he was. The man that I have seen and known for so many years, looking down at me in the dim, yellowish light: ‘Wake up sleepyhead!’
PART TWO
DIRTY LITTLE SECRETS
I’m dirty dirty dirty –
Dirty I will be.
Dirty I will stay.
For I never need. I never want. I never stray.
I always leave.
You watch and wait and see.
Soon you’ll be dirty too.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
A long line of black stretch limousines followed a white hearse which led the procession down the Oak-lined street in the center of Medley. The brown casket could be seen through the rectangular rear windows of the hearse, visible through glass and framed by purple velvet curtains pulled back with gold cords. The next car in the procession was a long black Lincoln Limousine. Inside the rear window, sat a grey-haired Hispanic woman.
She occasion
ally would turn her head towards the window, staring at the small shops and immature trees that lined the cobblestone sidewalks, but her eyes were concealed by an oversized pair of dark sunglasses. At one point, she removed the sunglasses, and brought a white, wadded tissue up to her eyes, to wipe the mascara that had run down her cheek, and, shortly after, buried her face in her hands.
That was the scene as the motorcade passed the through the streets of the small town center of Medley; they passed through Danson Circle and went around three quarters of the circle; the line of cars passed some small antique shops with furniture on a sidewalk sale, and clothing stores whose doors opened to a brick sidewalk and a few small potted palm trees. As they near the church, a thick canopy kept the street in shade; like giant arms extending from massive trees that grew behind the small, single story buildings on either side of the street.
At the end of the avenue the white hearse made a right hand turn into Ascension Cemetery and stopped to wait for a tall, black iron gate to open. The canopy continued over the cemetery, and the trees that were scattered throughout the cemetery were also just as mature as the oaks that lined the streets - the only reminder of tropical Florida was the occasional palm. The gravestones were small and modest but there was a small stone monument that rose above the others here and there.
The feel of the town was more of a quiet, wooded oasis in the middle of bustling Miami. If one were to wander just a few mere blocks from the center of town the landscape would give way to interstates and urban sprawl, traffic and congestion.
“Here we lay to rest our brother, taken from this life suddenly and tragically.” A priest dressed in white vestments and took place at the head of the gathering, standing at the head of the coffin. “Jean Carlo was taken at such a young age, in such a brutal way.” He opened his bible and began reading scripture as the small group of mourners bowed their heads in respect.
