Master's Article

Incipit Prologus: Edmond

August 3rd 1692, Salem Massachusetts

A subtle town of the damned. The devil graced our beloved colony and spilled chaos and calamity. We would soon acquire the knowledge of the persecution of our darlings. Greed casts a witchy spell.

"Margaret, my love, I implore for thee to grow ashy grey with me," I exclaimed to my lover in an ever so poetic manner.

"Edmond, I wish not to departure," tears streamed down her lovely porcelain skin, as if her cheek was a river. Her eyes swelled. I could tell she was greatly burdened.

My beloved had been describing that the witch trials were going to strip her very essence from her being. If she were a witch, I'd wish to be her familiar. Sorcery she did not possess, but she still managed to bewitch my heart.

"No matter what thy ears consume, thee art not a witch," I caressed and reassured the love of my life.

My graceful beauty smiled, "I love thee, Edmond, I wish blessings upon thy welfare. If it shan't be troublesome, I make one request. Look after dear Sofia, my kinsman."

"I will my dear," I said softly.

The sun dawned upon 1692. The third of August was a blessing, all of which occurred in Salem, Massachusetts.

We were pilgrims, fleeing from religious persecution and in it all my beloved had been accused of witchcraft. She had planned to escape on a large passenger ship over God's vast pool. The likelihood of seeing her again was indefinite. My heart would never weep again for another soul. Margaret would sail like a theft in the night. If to be caught, her capturing would only be worthy of death.

A month's work of mourning took weight to acquire a letter. A letter written in fine ink.

I delicately examined the message concealed, secretly desiring it to be from Margaret. From that fateful moment, her name would not be mentioned with brightness and joy.

Much like my burning desire, the boat sank, its ruins being discovered by the shoreline. Her porcelain skin, light locks all flashed before my eyes. She had drowned in the incident, among others who had to flee. My love could never escape persecution.

I lost the humanity that was ever present in my crippled heart. She had made me whole, while after reading such aching news I stood less than half. A piece of me died a gruesome death. No possible woman could compare to the fair beauty she was. My mind only dwelled on basking in jubilation on the other side with her. Taking my own life was a thought I considered, but I remembered the gravity of her sweet kind words, "Look after Sofia for me."

My head throbbed along with my unquenchable longing. An angel who was able to escape the pain of life, now in the grace of holiness. I was forgotten in a world ridden in sin and grief. I pondered at why I was forsaken from the light of heaven.

I left my quant cottage to reflect on what I had done to infuriate God. As I strolled down the cobblestone streets in our small town, a horrid rattling shrieked in my eardrums. I was numb inside, my senses not being an exemption. If anything at all, I thought it to be a delusion or a stray.

I made my way into the corner where I had heard the peculiar sound. Speaking firmly, I yelled at whatever creature it could have been, "Show thyself," I yelled with grief.

My hands shook terribly as I did my best to remain composed. I had expected a ratted dog to cross my path, but all that greeted me was the devil in human form. The glass that lined the walls of shaky structures bursted with each powerful step it took. It wore fine clothing. The beast's clanking heals drove me mad. It was a walking shadow, with red narrowing, glowing eyes. I was forgotten. The doing of unholiness was reaching out to me. My eyes grew dark like it's presence. He grasped me firmly by my collar, "Certe."

I woke up in awe of the memory. His cold slender hands. The talons which were his nails. They clawed at me. A sudden pain roared under my flesh. A burning. A heightened passion. Pain.

I dragged my cramped fingers across my neck. My vision was as clear as day. The view at which I received was a dark, velvet syrup dripping off of the crevices of my fingers. My veins bulged. I felt back at where I had contracted the blood. The wound had healed miraculously.

I woke up in a dark alley, a scene of horror. My heart still ached, faintly, but my body no longer did. I stood up with much ease, inspecting the corners of the buildings. No one was out, villagers were attending church on such a lovely day. Even though I wasn't at the Holy Spirit's home, I prayed for it's large golden gates and my beloved in a cherry pink dress ecstatic at my arrival to greet me. I was not in heaven.

The figure's face further condemned me. It's masculine voice replying to me in Latin was haunting. Certe. Certainly. All the pain in my heart ceased to be along with its pounding, musical beat.

My mind was an empty void of concentration. The blood on my palm was appetizing. Witches were worrisome to the village, but had we thought of other unholy creatures? I was cursed to live my life as an immortal being. A vampire. A bloodthirsty creature. A beast of legends. Of children's nightmares.

I couldn't comprehend it. I had an urge to cry, an urge to show emotion. Where would that lead me? I was no longer a human. Empathy was a word of the past. Love was a shriveled fruit bitten by Eve in a garden. The sunlight began to sting.

I had to suffer the loss of my dear Margaret for all of eternity. I made it my unlife's purpose to be her family's guardian. As time grew on, her kinsman fell to either age or other natural forces. They too were drawn into extinction. I prayed to be a monster no more but my curse was unchanging. I prayed to everything for nothing.

I was turned a month after her departure. September. Fall. I dreaded the third. I dreaded the season. I dreaded the crispness of the light colored leaves gliding to the ground. I spat at my existence.

I gazed at society. The complexity of gender inequality, betrayal, and hierarchy was absurd to even a creature as myself. I raveled at mankind. All thoughts of my life as a mortal were unfathomable. I adjusted to my new cold skin; my demeanor demanded that I changed. I became bitter and soulless. A shallow hole in my heart made room for no one.

Or so I thought.