Distract my hunger (2 page)

I
could
see
ancient
wisdom
in
her
stare
and
more
power
than
I
ever
imagined
being
stored
in
her
tiny
body.
Her
eyes
looked
more
than
right
into
me,
she
saw
beyond
me.
Beyond
her
mother
who
intended
to
kill
her,
beyond
the
council’s
wishes
that
were
about
to
be
fulfilled.
Her
gemstone-stare
looked
right
into
my
soul
and
I
felt
she
understood.
She
forgave
me.
Can
you
believe
it?
She
seemed
to
read
the
wave
of
emotions
floating
around
me
and
empathised
right
back.
I
felt
as
if
invisible
tentacles
were
poking
around
my
emotions
and
reading
my
aura.
She
was
too
unique;
I
simply
could
not
do
it.
I
could
not
bring
myself
to
fulfil
my
duty.

Her
simple
stare
made
me
understand:
we
had
been
wrong
all
along.
She
was
not
the
one
who
was
dangerous
for
our
kind,
I
believe
it
was
us.
I
think
it
was
our
own
ways
that
damned
us
all.
This
new
soul
could
actually
be
our
sole
salvation!
I
know
this
letter
must
seem
irrational
but
I’ve
learnt
to
trust
my
intuition.
I
could
try
and
explain
things,
but
we
both
know
what
the
end
to
that
would
be
 
.
 
.
 
.
so
I
must
run.
I
must
run
away
from
The
Council
and
even
from
you
my
friend.

Duncan
did
not
blame
me,
he
understood
as
soon
as
I
made
him
really
lay
his
eyes
on
her.
Perhaps
it’s
because
we
are
her
parents,
or
perhaps
it
is
because
we
are
not
so
closed-minded.
The
three
of
us
are
going
together,
just
like
the
family
that
we
never
intended
to
be.

Forgive
us
for
leaving
you
behind,
we
would
have
told
you
if
we
thought
you
would
surely
understand.
Perhaps
it’s
our
overprotectiveness,
but
we
couldn’t
risk
it.
I’m
sorry.
The
Council
will
have
to
do
without
us.
Tell
them
I
don’t
and
won’t
regret
this.
When
the
time
comes,
we’ll
meet
again.

I
hope
I
could
do
things
differently,
but
destiny
works
sometimes
in
such
mysterious
ways
 
.
 
.
 
.
I
know
this
was
not
what
we
had
all
decided,
but
it
is
what
I
have
to
do.
Thank
you
for
always
being
my
most
loyal
friend,
and
please
forgive
my
feeble
motherly
soul.
I
don’t
expect
you’ll
understand
me,
but
believe
me,
our
fates
are
all
being
gambled
with
right
now.

I
hope
the
stars
make
our
paths
meet
again,

With
Love,

Juniper

CHAPTER 1

Welcome, let me introduce you
to myself . . .

F
or a while I’ve been trying to decide what to do about my story . . . if I should tell it or if I should remain in silence, if I should start it in this or that place, what is the beginning, what should be the end; when finally I discovered I knew the answer to my many dilemmas all along.

It was probably out of vanity I decided to share with you a brief insight to my experiences, but it was out of wisdom that I knew what to do with my tale; for true stories have no real beginning and in many cases they have also no ending. Should one be expected to follow events chronologically? I will wholeheartedly answer, no. What is more malleable than time these days? Can we really be expected to separate our experiences in different equal modules such as hours when some hours extend for ages and others just flap their wings over us like crazy hummingbirds? I guess that would just erase the traces of realism from my tale, and it is exactly realism what I wanted to portray in my short memoirs; the reality behind a myth.

By telling you all this you can already guess part of the ending, for I’m not dead if I’m giving you my story? Or am I? We could probably have a whole new philosophical debate on that account, but that would simply separate us from the story.

And about the story, I’m so sorry I was so rude, how can I tell you something about me when I didn’t introduce myself? Let me quickly straighten my mistake . . .

My “real” name is absolutely irrelevant for it tells you nothing about me whatsoever; I don’t use it and haven’t done so for a very long time. Nowadays people call me Iris. Just that, no other words attached for
Iris
itself portrays so many ideas: the flower, its perfume, the coloured part of the eye with all its turmoil of colour, and even a 90’s song I think has that name. The Ancient Greeks used that word to describe the rainbow with its magnificent colour radiations. I believe it’s from there that the flower gained its name even. So that’s me, complex as the flower or the colour radiations in an eye.

A name is still only that, just a name. My name, Iris, is important but that is not all there is to me. I’m also someone that carries that name, the person behind it is its essence and the outer-shell, my looks, is also part of who I am.

I’ve got raven-black, waist-length hair with just a few bangs on my forehead. Every lock is just mildly wavy, therefore bouncing slightly with every step I take. My skin has a pearl-like appearance, and around my ribs it’s even more translucent than a new-born’s. You would think it quite delicate, it seems to tear with just a touch, even the most velvety caress would seem too harsh for it but it’s tougher than most coarse fabrics.

I’m quite well built though you would never say I’m chubby (voluptuous, maybe . . . I’ve been called that, I must dare to confess) and you would never guess my strength . . . My legs are my leanest feature, they are long and muscular. They are predator’s legs. I can sprint and pounce with uncanny speed and just like a wolf on a hunting spree catch my prey unexpectedly.

My eyes are my most exotic feature. They are not huge but they “exude mystery” I’ve been told. Almond-like shapes fringed with long, heavy, jet-black lashes frame gem-like eyes. They shimmer and shine with the tiniest specs of light. Their colour seems impossible at plain sight, yet they couldn’t be any other way. Just like gems in any Tiffany’s ring, they sparkle, inviting careful watchers to lose themselves in their translucent ecstasy. Exotic, unique, special, such is this that sometimes, when my irises catch a beam of light they shimmer with the aura of twilight; my eyes are deep violet.

It was not the kind of description you where expecting I believe, but sometimes reality escapes our wildest imaginations or our drunkest and most eccentric dreams. I walk in daylight but live in twilight, roaming the nights in order to shush the hunger. Hunger that maddens many and satiates none, hunger for different things at different times but mainly I hunger for: blood.

If by now you are deciding that I’m not human, I will most enthusiastically encourage you to stop; for I am human, just a different type of human. I cling to my humanity with all my might. It is part of what I am and definitely what I once was.

In ancient times, those of my kind where called “witches” and “the kin of Lilith”. Ancient Sumerian lore called us “Edimmu” and they believed we were like evil spirits. Many myths exist with some kind of definition of us.

The Egyptian goddess “Sekhmet” is one of the oldest descriptions of someone of out kind, and just as you might guess, they didn’t get it quite right either. Humans never really understood certain ancient forces and this made them trust them even less. I’m not even mentioning here certain infamous historical characters that somehow ended up associated with an idea of us. By those characters I was thinking of examples such as Countess Erzbeth Bathory and Vlad Dracul. Those two together with others like Giles de Rais completed the whole misconception panorama. And the funniest thing is that they were just human.

Fear of the unknown seems to be a general human characteristic. Just think about it and I’m sure you’ll agree!

They damned us from the start; as you see, it was always a hopeless matter. To make things short: mistakes on our behalf, generalized superstitions and many misunderstandings lead us to be considered as something almost daemon like. As time passed in certain places they called us Vampyr or what you where probably thinking:
vampires
.

We probably always existed alongside humans like you; many believe that we might be humans’ only natural predator.

Still today many misconceptions surround the idea of a vampire: not-human, dead, un-dead, evil, monsters, night-walkers, and many more, none of those are true of course. Start thinking that all you know is a load of half-truths if not complete and awful mistakes.

About something I said before let me recap my words: “Those of my kind”, well, we are all around you and in general you will never know the difference between you and us. Differences at plain sight are unnoticeable. I could be your neighbour, your teacher, or even your best friend. We are everywhere. We were born to blend in.

We are like wolves that look like sheep; we live with our prey and dine on their feasts. Unless we want you to know you’ll never tell the difference between you and us, that is if you are going to live past the moment of discovery.

This last piece of information might be kind of scary but just as there are nicer and meaner people, vampires are just the same. Don’t be afraid! Not all of us mean danger to you: some of us are on your side . . .

If this introduction to my story arouses a great number of questions in you, I’m glad, but I won’t answer them just yet. Though I hope they will be answered by the time I decide to tell you no more.