Bloodthirsty: Solomon Islands

Kila

My name is Kila. We were skilled navigators, potters and fishermen. We lived in harmony with nature and the spirits of our ancestors.

One night, when I was a young man, I went fishing with my father and some friends. We sailed our outrigger canoe to a nearby reef, where we hoped to catch some tuna and mackerel. The moon was full and bright, and the sea was calm. We cast our nets and hooks into the water, and waited for the fish to bite.

As we were fishing, we saw a strange sight on the horizon. A large ship, unlike any we had ever seen before, was approaching our island. It had tall masts and sails, and a metal hull that glinted in the moonlight. We wondered who they were, and where they came from. We had never encountered any other people besides our own.

We decided to go back to the shore and warn our village of the newcomers. We paddled our canoe as fast as we could, but we were too late. The ship had already reached the coast, and we saw dozens of men disembarking from it. They carried swords, guns and torches. They wore strange clothes and hats, and spoke a language we did not understand.

They attacked our village without mercy. They killed our elders, our women and our children. They burned our houses, our boats and our crops. They took our valuables, our animals and our land. They showed no respect for our culture, our religion or our lives. They were monsters, worse than any we had ever imagined.

My father and I fought bravely, but we were outnumbered and outmatched. We were wounded and captured, along with some other survivors. They tied us up and threw us into the hold of their ship. They planned to take us away, to sell us as slaves or to use us as guinea pigs for their experiments.

Among the captors, there was one who was different from the rest. He was tall and pale, with long black hair and piercing red eyes. He wore a long black cloak and a silver cross around his neck. He did not speak or act like the others. He seemed to have a power over them, and they obeyed his commands without question.

He was a vampire, an undead creature that fed on the blood of the living. He had come to our island in search of a new source of food, and he had found us. He was the one who had ordered the massacre of our people, and he was the one who had chosen me as his next victim.

He came to me in the dark, as I lay in the hold, bleeding and starving. He smiled at me, showing his sharp fangs. He said he was impressed by my courage and strength, and he offered me a choice: to die as a human, or to live as a vampire. He said he would make me his companion, his son, his heir. He said he would show me the wonders of the world, the secrets of the night, the pleasures of the flesh. He said he would give me eternal life, eternal power, eternal beauty.

I was young, and I was afraid. I did not want to die, but I did not want to become a monster either. I did not know what to do, what to say, what to think. I looked into his eyes, and I felt a strange attraction, a strange curiosity, a strange desire. He sensed my hesitation, and he took advantage of it. He bit my neck, and I felt a surge of pain, followed by a wave of ecstasy. He drank my blood, and I drank his. He shared his essence with me, and I became his. He turned me into a vampire, and I lost my soul.

That was the night I died, and the night I was reborn. That was the night I left my home, and the night I began my journey. That was the night I met Ambrogio, and the night I became his.