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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/896339-The-Gift
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Drama · #896339
I did a few adjustments. For one changed the main character's name to fit better.

The Gift



I guess you are wondering why I asked you to come here.

Your questions have amused me, and what I have to say can not be said in a bar, with its neon lights and loud noises. You asked where I came from so I will try to explain myself. First of all, my name is Bronagh. I was born in Ireland. My family were farmers. My father worked hard to feed us, while mother and I kept the house in order. We may have been poor, but we were grateful for having each other.

Then, one day, my infant sister became feverish. Each passing day her body grew weaker. From her the disease crept to the rest of my family, its dark hand trying to take them. I waited for the day when I too would become sick and die. Illness seemed not to touch me.

Then, one night, a woman came to our door. My soul could not pull from the gaze of her strong eyes. When I finally took myself out from under her spell, I looked beyound her. There I saw a black stallion, who snorted and shook his head, sending his long mane flying. The moonlight highlighting the onyx strands.

Drawing me back to her, the woman asked, "May I enter? It appears as if you need some assistance." I told her that she could if she wanted to, but it would be risking her own life. She simply shrugged; I figured she had the desire to die. I found out later that I was wrong. Only when I forget what fate would have dealt, my family, do I wish that I had not allowed her in.

When she entered my house, the light of our lamp cast shadows across her face. She wore a hooded cloak, but when she brushed back that hood her raven hair flowed down her back in thick cascades. Her eyes were as blue as the sky. I could've sworn that she too looked ill, with skin as pale as white linen. "Maybe this is why she does not care to go on in her life.", I thought.

She introduced herself by saying, "My name is Varisha. I'm a traveler and I have the healing arts. I can tell that your family is sick and needs some help, so I have come to lend my aid."

I had no other chance at getting help. I told her that I had no money to give for her services. Varisha said, "The price is higher than that of mere money. You have something that will help me and that I will take as payment."

I stared. A chill had encompassed me, for her tone had told me that the price was indeed high. I remember saying to her that I would give anything for the sake of my family. She looked deeply into my inner being, then glanced over toward my families ill forms, I felt that she wanted to help, but did not know if I would be able to handle the cost. Her eyes held great pain within them. A pain I would never truly learn the full depth of.

"You will have to give your own life to save them," she had said, her pale lips forming each word carefully, watching my reaction.

I gasped, then nodded my head, For I knew that I could not live, knowing that I could have saved them. She reached out her hand and the deal was sealed with her cold hand grasping my warm one.

I was carefully studied for what seemed like a long time. Fear creep down through my soul. She moved slowly closer. My body would not answer my calls for motion, it was trapped in her hypnotic eyes. I saw, then her set of fangs and my fate was set when I felt the sting in the soft flesh of my neck. Ever so slowly, my life force drained away: my body still unable to fall as she filled her own needs.

Placing me gently onto my bed she spoke, "I needed your energy, to give life to your family. I hope you can forgive," Something warm and wet dropped onto my tongue. Those few salty drops helped me to survive while she tended my family.

I heard her chant, in a language that I could not understand, as a great warmth built in the house. Then all was still.

I laid there as the sun slowly came up, greeting the new day with it's harsh glare upon my closed eyes. I heard each of my family slowly rising from their sick beds. The tired bodies moving slowly towards me. My mothers pale face looked down at me. Barly opening my eyes, I saw in her face the same fear which she shown when the first of our family became sick. She brushed my red locks from my face and cried for the daughter who lay motionless in bed. I felt the hot tears hit my face and glide down to meet the bed sheets. "My poor daughter. She saved us and now she too has came down sick," my mother wailed, flinging herself into my fathers arms.

I felt those days pass each one seemed like a life time. Now, they are just small flicks of time. My family tried to save my life, but they could not succeed. Then there came a day when the woman returned.

She entered our house after my family had gone to sleep. I felt her presence before I could see her. She lifted me, from my bed and carried me out into the dark night. Her arms held me tight as she mounted her horse and cantered away, leaving my families humble home behind. I heard her say, " I have returned for you, my child," then as her voice was floating away sleep descended upon me.

When I awoke, I found myself in a small room that smelled of dust and stale water. My senses over whelmed with all that was around me. I could see every one of her black hairs, that framed her pale features. She seemed to be in deep thought as she looked over at me, "I gave your family the gift of life, as was our deal."

I asked her why I felt so alive when I should have been dead. She looked at her hands, as if the answers lay in them.

I sensed her own sadness: and it startled me.

Then I remembered how she drank my blood. I knew then I was no longer among the living; my part of the deal had been kept.

She was a good teacher. I was shown how to control my strength. She taught me how to drink without killing. I learned that she needed my life to perform the spell which saved my family. I also learned that I could still walk in the light of day, for our power was great; I had adjusted.

I looked in on my family often. I saw my mother live to an old age, and watched as my baby sister had her own babies. I never did regret saving them.

When my mother died I was there: she saw me and her soul rested. I watched as her spirit left the mortal shell and drifted away.

Now you have come to me. I've watched you care for them. I see the pain in your face. Your life is needed to save your family. That is the only way, that they can survive their torture.

And now, you must decide.

© Copyright 2004 Varisha (varisha at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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