April     ►
Archive RSS
Creative fun in
the palm of your hand.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/215302-Shadows-And-Daydreams
Rated: 13+ · Book · Gothic · #593396
My completed stories
#215302 added December 23, 2002 at 6:15pm
Restrictions: None
Shadows And Daydreams
An earlier attempt by me to write a vampire story.

“Here we are,
Born to be kings,
We’re the princes of the universe”

I am an immortal and here I sit in the twentieth century. You sit and wonder about the past; I sit and remember what I’ve seen. You sit and wonder about the future; I can only dread what is to be. Now, it has been requested that I write an autobiography and I scoff. I ask if they can handle what has befallen me. Can they handle the truth about the lives they only guess at? My inner instinct tells me that, indeed, they can. So, here is where I begin the story of my life.

It all started on a dreary day so many years ago, in 1582. I was told that it was cold and wet although I doubt this to be true. I doubt this for the very reason that this was told to me by the people who know the truth. It is so typical of an untrue story that no one will ever believe it. Frankenstein was created in a thunderstorm was he not? My family is of noble heritage, at least they were. My brother passed away and could not carry on the family name. Sadly, I could not marry either. To outlive my spouse by thousands of years would be ludicrous. Not that my life isn’t insane enough but I really doubt it can use any more complications.

Greatness is my birthright and now my story must be told. Anyway, I was born in 1582 at night. The month and day escapes me but I know that it was a cold month. My mother died in labor and my father immediately loathed me for it. I was nothing but a painful reminder of the loss of his wife.

In 1594 he remarried, a fat ugly woman who had two fat ugly daughters and one handsome son. Being only twelve, I very well couldn’t leave and so I stayed with my hateful father and his new family. Life wasn’t that unbearable with the young man there. He was six years older than me and was planning to stake out on his own. When he did leave in 1595, I grew depressed and constantly fought with my “family”.

Finally, in a fit of anger, I left. I was only thirteen at the time and I really had no idea where I would go. As I walked the lonely streets of Paris, I contemplated suicide. Just to end my life. I would end my torment as well as my fathers pain. I sat on the edge of a small wooden bridge and watched lovers stroll hand in hand. Morons. A single man strolling along caught my attention. He was dressed in black, his hair long and tied back in a single pony tail that went to his mid-back. He looked up at me and stopped. As we stared at each other I grew frightened. He looked as though he knew what I was thinking, as though he knew me.

He approached the bridge and walked up to me. I stared up at him and he stared down at me till finally he spoke.

“Arise, my child.” His voice was calm and authoritative and all I could think about was that my father had sent him. “No, my child, your father did not send me. In fact, no one sent me. I have sent myself. And in answer to your earlier thoughts, any attempt at suicide will fail, for, you see, you can not die.”

I stared open mouthed at him. “Who are you?” I questioned, fear rising in me. “And how do you-?”

“Know? Well, my child, it is quite simple. I can read minds.”

“Can not.” I said defiantly. “You lie. I’m going home.” I stood and dusted off my dress.

“Home? My child, you wish to return to your fathers house where your mothers death hangs constantly over your head? Where your father and fat step-mother holds your two equally fat step-sisters higher and better than you? My dear, sweet child, I hold the escape you long for here in front of you and you fear me? Come with me, child, and I will take you away from all this misery.”

I considered it a moment. He knew so much and maybe he would kill me and then it would all be over and I wouldn’t have to worry about anything anymore. Now, I wish he had done just that. Cautiously, I took his outstretched hand and went with him. That was the last I ever saw of Paris and my family.


Later, I discovered that his name was Taylor and he was an immortal being. Panicked, I thought him a vampire but the moment that thought entered my brain he laughed and caused my worries to cease. He then told me that he was 200 years old but had never aged older than around thirty. I tried not to think anything since he had proven that, indeed, he could read minds.

Soon he was telling me that I, too, was an immortal. I would never die. Due to that, I could also never marry. He didn’t say it like that but he did state that, if married, I would outlive my spouse for thousands of years and people would become nosy, as people naturally do, and I would become hunted. I feared that I would never grow older than my thirteen years and he calmly replied that I, too, would reach at least thirty but from then on, grow no older. This relaxed me.

We traveled by train to Germany. He and I soon became close friends, for, there was no secret I could keep from him and he kept no secrets from me.

We remained in Germany for fourteen years, and soon I was a young woman. Vain as this may sound, I was a very beautiful young woman. Rebellious and reckless, I wandered the streets and had many lovers. Taylor was angry and soon approached me. It was on a night when I had just enjoyed a delicious dinner with a rich French man on holiday. He had wined and dined me and, of course, slept with me. I was slightly bored with my life and always found new ways to liven it up. I walked into our lovely two story house and smiled at Taylor, who sat on the love seat, his eyes afire.

“Hello, my Taylor.” I said drunkenly. I swayed on my feet and Taylor stood.

“Elizabeth, I am troubled.” He replied.

“Oh, so serious.” I mocked him. I then laughed hysterically, the wine having taken effect.

“You are drunk.”

“Mmhmm, so are you.” I giggled. Taylor never drank.


“Taylor….” I was feeling strangely flirty and I blamed it on the wine. In an instant I pretended that I was about to faint and Taylor was there, his strong arms around me. I toyed with the notion of kissing him and he held me away from him.

“No, Elizabeth.” He replied.

“I was with a French man.” I sighed. “I think I had too much wine.”

“I think you’ve had too much everything.” Taylor then picked me up and carried me to my room. Once he had set me on the bed he studied me. “You must stop this lifestyle of yours, Elizabeth.”

“But why? I am having so much fun.” I fell back onto the bed and laughed again.

“You can not continue this way. Tomorrow, we are leaving Germany.”

That sobered me up quickly. “No Taylor, please. A week more.” I didn’t tell him that the whole reason I cared was because I had many loose ends to tie up.

“I know that your affairs are numerous, but, they are ending, now.” He stood and headed for the door. “You are mine, Elizabeth, and no one else’s.” With that he was gone.

I tried to not think about what he had said but the words were always at the front of my brain and I had no choice but to think on them. Did that mean that Taylor loved me? He did, I would learn that later.

As promised, we left Germany that next morning and went to Italy. In Italy, Taylor and I shared a room more often then we had our own. The first night in his arms was a blur of pain and passion. I don't recall the exact moment of the pain, the intense drawing of my blood from my body, the moment I realized he truly was a vampire. The moment passed as quickly as it came and I thought nothing of it. Looking back I realize the betrayal I should have never suffered. He should have told me the day on the bridge, told me the truth. I was an immortal, true, but immortal only due to the bite, only due to him.

I admit now that he was the best lover I ever had. He knew what I wanted and when and why and where and everything. He was so gentle and yet so erotic that I was always pleasured when he turned his attentions to me. I never aged a day past twenty-eight and I was happy that at least that claim Taylor made proved true.

Italy was a wonderful although short experience. We stayed there only a couple months then we moved on. Wandering aimlessly across the country until Taylor decided our destiny. He approached me one day, as I sat by a clear stream that ran through a beautiful green meadow. His face was serious and I attempted to read his thoughts. I was partially able to read the thoughts of mortals but he kept his well guarded. He smiled.

“No luck?” he mocked.

“Hmmm. Maybe. Maybe not. Tell me.”

“We are going to Scotland.”

“Why?” I laid down on the soft grass and stared up at him.

“For the final step in your growth.”

I groaned. I hated how he always talked of my “growth” and all the “steps” to achieving it. “And what, pray tell, is the final step?”

“Read my mind.”

I glared at him then stood to my feet. I cleared my mind in a mock effort to read his.

“You are still playing little kid games Elizabeth.”

“I’ll wait.” I said testily as I turned on my heel and walked toward the horses. “It probably isn’t really that necessary for me to know before, is it? Since I can’t gain anything till Scotland….” I glanced at him over my shoulder. “Right?”

All he did was smile.


Scotland was lush and green and gorgeous. It was my favorite place to live. Although Taylor suddenly became distant I found that the beauty well made up for his absence. I spent many days walking the cobblestone streets and reading the mortals minds. I learned a great many things and therefore knew my way around Scotland as well as any native.

One evening, after a delightful stroll, I returned to my hotel room to find Taylor waiting for me, the same serious expression on his face.

“What is it?” I asked and rushed to him.

“You.” He replied.

“Me? But-“

“Shhh. You and I are not going to see each other again, my Elizabeth.” He was sad.

“What’s wrong?” I was scared. Here was my friend, lover and mentor all in one and he was leaving me.

“He wants you.”

“Who?” I had heard of him, the head guy, the leader. I feared him.

“Lestat. He has finally asked for you. Alone.” Taylor stood then and took me in his arms.

“But I don’t want to go to him.”

“You know that does not matter.”

“Let us flee.” I was panicked by then, fearful of losing Taylor. Lestat was feared and powerful. There was nowhere to go. Taylor had told me of all the things that Lestat had done to the “forever children”, as we are sometimes called, that he had not liked. It is not true that we can not die at all. Lestat was one of the few that could kill a forever child and that made him the one to fear. And the one to serve.

Taylor was kissing me by now, telling me what I already knew, that there was nowhere to go and that Lestat demands our respect. We made intense love that night, knowing it was our last time. Lestat wouldn’t kill Taylor but Taylor had to go, far away, to bring others to Lestat. Foolishly, I told Taylor to be mine forever, to never sleep with another. He smiled and told me that he would if I did the same. I knew he was lying but I didn’t care. I loved him. He knew it and, unfortunately, so did Lestat.


When I arrived at Lestats castle on a high lush hill of the greenest grass in Scotland, I was numb with shock and pain. Taylor had driven me there and we said good-bye. He didn’t even stay around to see if I stayed or if I fled but he knew, as did I, that there was nowhere to go. I didn’t hesitate as I approached the place I dreaded and I kept my mind free and clear of any thought, just as Taylor had taught me. As I neared the monstrous doors that castles are famous for, I wondered how you knock on such a thing. That was all I had to think in order for a response to be offered.

The doors opened and there he was. A darkly handsome man with shoulder length mahogany hair that was unbound and beautiful. His eyes were coal black and as alive as all the forests. His face was tanned and well shaped. He was a dream. Built in the most perfect way and with the most welcoming smile. As he smiled, I thought of how easily he could snarl and turn someone into a puddle of fearful goo. As I thought this his eyes sparkled and his smile broadened.

“That I can my dear. But you have nothing to fear.” I looked into his eyes as his voice poured over me, warm and thick as syrup. You are beautiful, Elizabeth, and you are mine. He had thought this to me. I stared at him and he approached.

He was dressed all in black, just as the rumors of him foretold it. His shirt was made of satin and his pants of some unknown material that showed of his muscled legs and other endowments quite well. “You like it. And you blush.” He stopped a few inches from me and I could still feel his body heat. He would seduce me and it would all be over. I would be his forever and Taylor would be lost. He reached out his hand and caressed my face. I couldn’t look away but I fought him, mentally, spiritually and loyally, I fought him. “Others have fought too, my love, and they have lost.”

“What is it that you want of me?” My voice was strong and steady.

“I want your body and your mind and your soul and your passion.” And, he silently added, your love. It caused me to shiver when he sent those mental messages to me. He grabbed my upper arm and pulled me toward the doors.

I suffered through the dinner and the short tour and quick explanations. Then the bed hour drew near and I was scared. He knew it and I knew that he knew it and I also knew there was no escape.

“Come. It is time for bed.” He stood and so did I. I followed him silently, hopefully, thinking maybe I had him all wrong. I didn’t. He led me to his bedroom. A large dark manly bedroom. I stared at the large bed in wonder. Who else had had this chance. “You, my love, are in for a treat.” Lestat closed the door then and barred it and I was doomed.

He took me in his arms and kissed me. I remained cold in his grasp but my mind and spirit burned for him. He knew. He lifted me and carried me to the bed and by then I was a limp rag doll. He fondled and played and teased and taunted till I was near begging. Then he took me. It hurt. I screamed loudly and he whispered softly into my ear. Then he began to move and it hurt worse and worse. Move with me. It won’t hurt if you move with me. So I did. The pain turned to pleasure in a heartbeat and I called out his name more than once. It seemed to last forever yet was not long enough. When he finally rolled off me I tried to leave the bed. He grabbed me and held me and I cried. I felt weak but I couldn’t help it. I was in pain and I was saddened.

Taylor was gone forever now and Lestat knew it. He took me three more times that night and I wanted to die. The pain was gone but the lust for him wasn’t and I longed for him more and more after each time. Each time was different and better. The next day I stayed in bed. Alone, I cried. I hated myself. And I hated Taylor even more.


Lestat is still alive today, I believe. He asked me to remain by his side and be his powerful lover. And I did. I saw Taylor a few times in the many hundreds of years that I reigned by Lestats side. I could never look him in the eye and one day he pulled me aside.

“I still love you.” He said.

I bowed my head. “And I you.”

He slid his fingers under my chin and forced me to look at him. “He has had you, I know of that Elizabeth. I heard you screaming of the pain mentally and then of the passion. It hurt but I knew it would happen. Every time he takes you, I know. Our bond is so strong that I can feel your pain and passion and longing and your hatred for me. But I still love you although you don’t feel the same.” Before I could reply, he kissed me passionately and was gone.

I never saw him again after that. Lestat had broken the bond by breaking Taylor. I don’t know if Taylor could still feel it and hear it but I tried not to be so passionate. Lestat was angered and hurt me during intimate relations so that I would cry out one way or the other. Then he told me he killed Taylor and I was passionate again. I was pretty sure he was lying but I didn’t want him hurting me anymore.

In the early 1800’s I finally managed to escape Lestat. He spoke to me mentally on one occasion. He told me that I had not escaped and that when he felt he needed me again he would come personally and retrieve me. That angered me but I knew that he told the truth. I dread that day. In the end of my reign I was as strong and passionate as him and we had contests trying to see who tired out first. I never won. I probably never will.

We were that bored in the castle. We lived in sinful bliss and luxury. And we loved it. But that’s over now. Since I left Scotland and came here to America I have thought of him. Only him. And, now the thoughts are stronger and I know that he is returning for me. And I am frightened. Very deeply frightened.

“I am immortal,
I have inside me blood of kings,
I am your rival,
No man can be my equal.
Take me to the future of the war.”

© Copyright 2002 DragonWrites~The Fire Faerie~ (UN: mystdancer50 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
DragonWrites~The Fire Faerie~ has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/215302-Shadows-And-Daydreams