The First

by Michael Santana

  Broken from the trance of the blood rage, Typhon’s twisted memories roared back to me. All the things she had endured played in my mind like a film reel. She was broken mentally and physically and was about to suffer more.

  Almost a full day passed before I heard voices in the hall. Guards spoke of the entertainment the night before. Between them, they carried the limp body of Keeza and threw her in the cell across from me.

  I could see that the previous night’s brutality had taken its toll on her. The fact that she had even survived is a testament to her subconscious defiance. As for me, I felt my rage slowly ebbing away. I braced my arms on the slab as a feeling of nausea came over me. I happened to catch my reflection in the mirror. The emaciated ghoul had returned. It turned out that without fresh blood coursing through my body it reverted to a dying state.

  What has happened to me? What curse is this?”

  The sight of my own reflection frightened me. I was no longer the beautiful creature. My eyes were dull and lifeless. My hair had lost all its vibrancy. I was a freak, a walking dead man. I screamed obscenities at the gods that had allowed this to happen to me. I beat my hands bloody against the wall, causing small chips of stone to fly in all directions. Deep sadness replaced the euphoria that once held me in its grasp. Misery showed her ugly face once more as my mistress. It finally hit me. I didn’t just appear to be dead. I was dead.

  The priest had done what he promised and supplied me with a fate worse than death. His cruelty truly knew no bounds. He had made me a slave to this world, never passing on to paradise. He had broken the heart and the will of the woman we both loved. His jealousy had consumed him to the point that he destroyed what he once treasured above all else.

  My body started to weaken. Once more, I felt as if my life was ebbing away. My spirit spiraled down a drain of despair. I collapsed on the floor, buried my head in my hands, and wept.

  I had never had a life. I had watched as others lived, and I served them. It had seemed I wasn’t even deemed worthy of a decent death.

  I was left in the dungeon for days. I became weaker and weaker as the hours passed. The pain was indescribable, and my thoughts weren’t my own. I started to hallucinate.

  My cell became a lush oasis with exotic birds flying throughout. Their multi-colored feathers beat against winds that I couldn’t feel. The trees swayed to and fro, and I heard voices in the distance. I moved through the foliage in search of the owners.

  Lost in the hallucination, I didn’t notice that the guards had come into my cell. I paid no attention as they suspended me in the air by my wrist, or the shackles they fixed to my ankles. Totally oblivious to the fact that the restraints connected to chains, which they had spiked into the ground.

  The oasis had taken me away, that was until the lash sliced through the air, whistling before it cut open the flesh of my back. I heard the screams of pain. Still not realizing they came from my lips. Although I am sure I felt the pain, I didn’t leave the oasis. It was as if, I knew it was happening but to another me. It was happening to someone who wasn’t lucky enough to see the oasis or to drink from its streams. I looked into the pond and saw him, the other me.

  The other me, the one not in the oasis was screaming obscenities as the lash tore more flesh from his back. I felt as he struggled with his bound wrist, pulling and tugging at the chain that held him suspended. His body jerked violently trying to escape his bonds. I felt empathy for him. Then he looked up into the pond as I looked down into it and our eyes met and locked.

  In that one instant, he pulled me from the sanctuary of the oasis, and I once more saw through my old eyes. I was whole and in pain. I looked down to see where the lash had torn me, but there were also burn marks where someone had taken a brand to me. My side had been sliced open by a blade of sorts. I wasn’t sure how long I was in my oasis, but from the way I looked, it had been days. Even more, days passed, and the tortures continued. Try as I might, I wasn’t able to escape reality and find my oasis again.

  I wasn’t the only one being tortured. I heard Keeza’s cries from across the hall and watched as they whipped her mercilessly. It wasn’t the sight of her whipped flesh that gave me the strength for what happened next. The ambrosia-like smell of the blood as it flowed from her wounds powered me. With every ounce of strength, I could muster, I jerked my body. The tautness of the chains loosened. I pulled again.

  The guard that was swinging the lash accredited these movements to his prowess with his weapon of choice. He was wrong. Moments later, I heard wood cracking and he and I both looked up to see the chain fall away from the beam that had once secured it in place. He had no time to react as I pulled him into me ripping out his throat. The blood filled my mouth, and I pulled him even tighter to me. I felt the strength returning to me a little at a time. I was ravenous, and I needed more. The sound of men running entered my ears, but it wasn’t to me, but away from me.

  The dead guard’s body fell to the ground and I beside him. In their haste to run away, they had left our cell doors open. I struggled at the spikes that held my legs in place. I pulled first one then the other from the ground. I took the guards key ring from him and released my shackles.

  I ran to Keeza and pulled her down from her bonds. With all the noise that her chains made hitting the ground, I didn’t hear the door shut until it was too late. Her body was limp. She had mercifully passed out from the pain.

  The scarlet tears fell onto her face and neck like a summer’s rain. I was more intrigued by the sight of this than shocked. I wondered in how many ways I had changed. I reached out with my finger and gently dabbed one of the crimson pearls from her face and rubbed it between my two fingers. It was definitely blood. Still thick with life, the syrupy substance slowly rolled down my finger as I brought it to my lips. The tangy flavor sent me back into that euphoric state, if only for a moment.

  I stepped back into the shadows when she started to stir and murmur. She had been through enough, and I wasn’t sure how much more she could take. The last thing she needed was to wake up with a ghoul hovering over her.

  My body had almost entirely reverted to its previous state. The wounds healing as the strange gnawing pain started again. I hadn’t recognized it at the time, the now familiar feeling of needing to feed.

  Her eyes opened, and she slowly began to sit up. Her hand went directly to the right side of her head to the now noticeable bump which had grown there. She rubbed at the bruised knot on her forehead and quietly called out my name.

  “Manzili.” She whispered.

  “I am here,” I said from the darkness.

  The hunger gnawed at me more. It felt as if I was crushing in on myself. The pain became more and more intense as the seconds passed. My internal organs were collapsing.

  A piercing pain flashed through my head and brought me to my knees. “Badump” “ Badump” “Badump” beat her heart. I looked up to see that every vein and every artery now shown through her almost translucent skin. Her carotid artery pulsed in time with her heartbeat.

  “I am so sorry” were the last words she ever heard.

  I leaped across the room and jerked her head to the side. I bared her throat as she screamed. My teeth sank into the flesh of my one true love and tore. The dark arterial liquid shot into my mouth almost defiantly. Her screams turned to gurgling noises as I tore even deeper into her neck. The hands beating on my head demanding her release were ignored. I felt her body go limp as I continued to drink. Laying her gently on the floor, I continued to feed until her heart ceased pumping the delicious blood.

  I rose from Keeza’s body slowly and sat beside it. Memories of our love flashed through me. I believe that was the last time I ever felt remorse or pity.

  I heard the guard’s thoughts as he came down the hall to the door. I heard his heart beating in his chest. I flew to the door in an instant, reaching through the bars I grabbed the guard by the back of
the neck and pulled him to me.

  Slide the beam,” I commanded.

  “Slide the beam?” he asked his voice cracking as he spoke.

  “Yes,” I said once more. “Slide it off and set me free.”

  I heard the beam hit the floor with a loud clunking noise and reacted. This time the door splintered then exploded as I drove my balled fists into it. The guard’s face was a mask of terror as I lifted him in the air and feasted. His legs swung and jerked wildly as I tore his head from his body.

  Each rip and tear sent more and more blood into me. The more I drank, the more powerful I felt. Unfortunately for me, the human body is not a never-ending fountain. Soon he too depleted. The slaves recoiled from the bars as I slowly passed by. The ones that were hanging averted their gaze. The few guards that did have the unfortunate fate of crossing my path were quickly dispatched. I desperately fought my desire to feed. So as not to be caught in the trance from the blood, the men were just slaughtered. Few had even had time to scream before I sent them from this world.

  I am sure you would like to hear the tale of how I killed the priest. I didn’t. At the time he was of little importance to me. It is true he had done horrible things to Keeza. I am the one that took her life though. It is also true he was an awful human being and would be responsible for many more atrocities in his life. Those cruelties pale in comparison to the many fiendish things I have done in my lust for blood.

  From the nursing mother, on whom I fed before feeding on her still suckling infant. Both of us, feeding off the life force of another until it fed no more. To the young maidens who had traveled too far off their path only to find their life’s end at the hands of the creature of nightmare, I had become. The thrill of the hunt and the excitement of the kill is why I do what I do. The taste of the blood as it first hits the tongue. I feel no more for the humans that become my meals than you do for the cattle that are slaughtered for their meat.

  I increased my pace, speeding through the upper halls in a blur. I navigated my way through the winding hallways in mere seconds. Still amazed at the speed at which I moved, I searched for the palace’s outer doors. Scaling the fifteen-foot walls with a quickness even a cat would envy I escaped into the Egyptian night.

  Chapter 6

  The night embraced me like a lover as I shone in the moon’s kiss. I flashed in and out of the shadows as I made my way across the sand. Stopping every now and then to marvel at the pulsating moon as it hung low in the sky.

  I spent a little time testing the limits of my new abilities. I found that with the slightest jump I could soar through the night as if on wings. Every hundred meters or so dropping to the ground only to push off again. Not only was I now able to see great vibrant auras but also great distances in vivid detail. I could discern the smells of animal’s half a kilometer away. I could hear their call in the night as if I were next to them. I had become the perfect predator, or so I thought….I had yet to meet the sun. I entered the city of Memphis an hour or so before dawn. Memphis was a grand marketplace and the capital of Lower Egypt at the time. Vendors came from all around to hock their wares. They were starting to set up their stores for the coming days’ business.

  I noticed all their staring eyes as I moved among them. It wasn’t alarm as much as wonder that drew their attention. It wasn’t my physical appearance that concerned them. It was my attire. I was walking among them a slave without a master.

  This situation I quickly remedied by stealing the clothes off a drunken vendor who had stumbled a little too far into the shadows. With a quick snap of the neck, he fell to the ground broken and dead. His purse held a few gold coins and some silver which I quickly pocketed. The clothes weren’t a great fit, but they would draw less attention than my previous set.

  The first glimmer of light soared across the sky as the sun came up over the horizon. I paid this no mind as I quickly disposed of the body by folding it backward in half. One more fold and he easily fit in an open barrel that was in the alley. The crunching noise of the shattering bones was easily overshadowed by the sounds of the vendors setting up. After throwing my old clothes in the barrel, I set out from behind the building.

  An old man screamed as I stepped into the sunlight. He drew up his walking stick and swung it in my direction.

  “Protect me from this evil being and his evil ways.” He begged of the god Ptah.

  I stepped back into the shadows and snatched him quickly by the collar. I caught a glimpse of my hands as they reached out for him and paused. I could see every tiny bone. The veins and arteries mapped through them from finger to wrist. The fingernails now blackened and diseased wrapped around his throat, crushing his windpipe and cutting off his screams in an instant.

  I pulled the old man’s still convulsing body, back into the shadows with me. Covering his mouth with my hand, I pressed down, successfully crushing his skull into fragments. The old man twitched no more.

  Now looking at my glowing caramel colored skin, I wondered. Slowly I stretched my hand back into the sunlight. It was diseased, pale and almost entirely transparent. I pulled it back out of the light, and the blemishes vanished. The skin appeared healthy and radiant.

  I would find out much later through the miracle of modern science, that the UV rays of the sun cause this transformation. There is no hiding the hideous monster in the light of day. In sunlight, I can be seen for what I truly am.

  It seemed, there were three different sides to me. Would I be the decaying emaciated ghoul, the nearly translucent albeit opaque monster, or the radiant beauty that I was when the blood moves through me in the absence of sunlight? I chose the latter. The night would belong to me.

  The change in me wasn’t hard to accept after living the life I had lived. I didn’t have wonderful things I missed or family that missed me. I embraced my new self. I welcomed the power I now had and all the new abilities that continued to emerge.

  Hiding in the light of day and prowling at night became my routine. I found out quickly that my body was unable to digest anything but blood. I tried eating different types of meats and breads. I would instantly become violently ill. It was the same for liquids. Wines, beers and even water all produced the same result. I could feast on blood and blood only. Upon realizing this, I saw people for what they were, food.

  I was able to amass a small fortune quickly by looting the people I preyed upon.

  Unless I wanted to hide in the brush like a common beast, I needed certain things. I bought the most beautiful garments made of the most elegant cloths to adorn myself in. I also learned how to control my facial expressions, so my oversized canines weren’t visible. I purchased a house by the Nile to hide from the daylight, and so I could quickly dispose of my nightly meals in the river.

  Those first few months in Memphis hunting was easy. I had taken the Egyptian name “Ammon.” Since its meaning is “The hidden one” I thought it fitting.

  I roamed the streets of the bustling city under the guise of the bastard son of the Pharaoh. I had learned to be creative in how I left the bodies of my victims. I no longer tore out their throats. I became very adept at hiding the cause of the deaths. Too many blood-drained bodies had washed up and started to arouse suspicion.

  Females were the easiest targets. The fathers or husband’s modesties about their daughters and wives would not allow thorough examinations of their bodies. There was also something about my new presence that had attracted them to me and made them easy prey. The aroma of cinnamon follows me. It must have been an ingredient used in the priest’s ritual and somehow stuck with me. Because of the male’s modesty over their loved ones, I had learned to feed from the femoral artery. If I was caught in some back alley with my head between the legs of a young girl, it was mistaken for a sexual act and disregarded by the viewer, and they walked on.

  When I was done feeding, I left their bodies in all manners of poses. Some I hung from the limbs of trees
as if they had taken their own lives. I left others battered and broken, to look as if they had taken a nasty fall. Then there were the ones I manipulated to look as if they had been murdered by someone they had the misfortune to trust. Many a poor soul had lost his head for being the last seen with my prey. I had learned it was easier for the victim to be forgotten if there was someone at which to point the finger.

  I had become a fixture in the nighttime marketplace by the time I first saw her. Every vendor would wave or show me their merchandise as I walked by. Calling out my name as if we were old friends, they would come to me.

  “Ammon! Ammon!” The old man cried. “I have some of the finest silks. Just arrived! You must come and see them,” he said.

  I had become very used to this. The amount of gold I had spent with these vendors, I couldn’t tell you. Some of my victims had been wealthy, very wealthy indeed. My house had been filled with all the things a young pharaoh’s son would want. Although I really didn’t care about these grand things I had amassed, it played out well with the guise I had taken on.

  There were busts of pharaohs and gods, and gold plates with the likeness of the sphinx etched into them. Silver goblets that I had never once taken a drink out of, although my victims might have had a last taste of wine before I dismissed them. Jeweled sconces hung on my walls casting their glows through the house. The finest clothes, the brightest baubles, I had all these things.

  Yes, because of all this I had become very familiar with the nighttime vendors. I turned my attention to the old man, but it wasn’t he who caught my eye. It was she. She had walked over to his stand and was browsing through his merchandise. I looked past the old man as he yammered on. I thought to myself, “You, my beauty will be next.”

  She was a remarkable figure. Standing almost 6-foot-tall, she towered over most of her subjects. A striking beauty whose consort was sought by most men. This was a power she wielded like a sword, striking down anyone who would oppose her. From peasant to priest, all who wished to bed her were driven to do her bidding.