Misery of the Vampire: A Vampire's Memoir (Complete).

Chapter three.

Just as I have witnessed the beginning of the plague, I have also seen its end. A new century had begun. No more were we in the seventeenth century, for a new one was starting. I left my beloved Italy in pursuit of a new beginning. Just as the century turned, I morphed along with it. I took my departure from Italy and traveled to England.

 I have caught word of London's innovations. I do admit, it was heartbreaking abandoning all that I had ever known. But I was also disdainful of Verona after the years of abuse, that I had suffered through by the hands of my sire. Now, they are nothing more than memories. Easily forgotten. But back then, they were deep wounds that refused to heal.

Throughout my journey to London, I have encountered a few interesting characters. Some of whom had influenced me into who I am today. The one who made the biggest impact was an old vampire named David. I encountered David upon arriving at the wrong destination. The ship that was supposed to bring myself to London instead brought me to the shores of America.

 Twas midnight, the passengers exiting the ship upon a rough wooden ramp. I believe we had stepped foot in New Orleans if my memory is as sharp as it was back in my youth. Unaware to the immigrants there was a vampire amongst them. starved of human blood, but sustained by the blood of rats. But on the docks, another predator was about. Lurking amongst the crowds as a beggar. 

I watched him play his fiddle. The music was quite cheerful, his old limbs dancing along to the merry little toon. I listened to his ragged shoes tap against the wood. For a split moment, my senses did not pick up upon his true nature. For his skin was dirty, clothing was torn, and eyes dreadfully dull. But there seemed to be a life within them as he continued on. I became intrigued, having not seen another one of my kind since Verona.

 Swiftly I moved towards him, my cloak swaying as I almost floated with excitement. Our eyes locked suddenly, and the old man who seemed to be carefree, goofy at the most, turned sharp. His glare was cold as a raspy voice in my head told me to return to the ground, and get out of sight of the few humans who were now dwindling in number. 

Startled, I suddenly made my way off the docks and towards the seaside town. This was not London. I realized this with devastation. But I could not dwell on it, the sun was rising and I needed shelter. Luckily there was a small, rundown inn nearby. But it was filled to the brim with immigrants. Barely was I lucky to receive a room? The next night, all was silent. From where I lied there was no noise. Just the occasional sound of the wood creaking beneath myself as I shifted my own body on the hay-filled mattress.

 Have you ever had your own mind frayed? I am not speaking of being exhausted, but actually having your subconscious fraying at the ends. It is hard for me to explain, but I couldn't think properly. It was either an overwhelming fear of being burned alive or constantly starving.

 Waiting for the right moment to catch your next meal in which you wouldn't receive for the next few weeks. I have lost the thoughts that made me feel human and was clinging to the very few I had remaining. Arising from my bed, I finally was able to see my own surroundings. For this morning I barely paid attention as my own body was forcing itself into sleep. But then I could see where I was. It was a small room, with a rough wooden floor and walls that were made from logs. The bed I used was old with a fraying mattress that was clearly stained. 

As I stood up, my heightened senses picked up the scurrying of rats and their faint squeaks. Making my way across the room, I came to a mirror hanging crookedly on the wall. I poured water into the basin that was left for me and splashed cold water onto my face. Against my dead skin, it felt wonderful. But within the reflection I could that my skin had grown whiter. The pangs of hunger turned into a great sensation as I realized how little blood I had within myself. 

Without even thinking, I turned around to leave the room. Hoping to find a decent meal, someone that nobody would miss hence I did not want to cause a stir within where I immigrated. At least not yet. Beforehand I had gotten dressed in the clothing which I had brought with, including my sire's own coat in which was elegant in itself. I should have worn something simple to blend in, for heads turned when I walked down the streets. But my sire's coat was like a trophy, of how I escaped from him and gained my freedom. If anyone understands that is. 

The night was damp, a fine mist showering down upon the earth. I could smell the grime of humans and the filth in which covered the streets. It caused my nose to scrunch up. The most pungent of smells came from a tavern that I came upon, it was the perfect place to find my next victim. For drunks always ended up dead sooner or later. 

I took a deep breath, wheezing softly as I had not used my own lungs for a long time. The moment I stepped in I almost recoiled from the smell of alcohol. The inside had tables scattered across with dimly lit candles on some. There were lanterns hanging from the rafters. Across the single room was a bar with a dark wood top and a disgruntled looking bartender. 

I ignored those who came near me, for I was determined to have a decent meal since my boarding the ship. But then I spotted him, the vampire I was greeted by at the docks. He was seated in the darkest corner, sitting upon a stool while having a cigarette hanging from his mouth. The violin in which he played before was laid across his lap. I couldn't help but notice the two large scars across his neck, where our own kind had bitten him at one point. 

I was about to speak with him upon coming close until he suddenly rose to his feet, picking up his violin swiftly and then beginning to play. It was sweet, exquisite to the ears. I could tell that he was careful when it came to his craft, for I heard no wrong note from himself. But why play in a place such as this? My answer came when a few people heard the music and begin to dance, men, taking women into the arms as they swayed around with the tune picking up its own pace. 

It caused me to tap my own foot, to grin excitedly while it moved my spirit. 

After a few minutes, he finally stopped, taking a young woman by the arm as he gave a grin to her with his perfect white teeth. Unusual for the people in this area. Then I finally saw his ploy, a dirty trick if you ask me. I had only seen it once in Verona, with a vampire from France who used his charm and beauty to attract others. This one here was using his own music. I could safely determine the fate of that young woman as I sat at the bar. 

I myself had no tricks nor ploys to attract my victims. I just took what I could and that would be the end of it. Swiftly and without mercy, for I was not the type to play with my food. I ordered a beer, sipping it while gazing across the room. At a table sat an older man with a weathered face and stained beard. One of the lower class, I was sure no one would miss him. After an hour or so, I followed him out and stuck close to the shadows, concealing myself from his human gaze. Underneath the light of the moon, he stood, gazing up as he heard a noise from above.

What he did not hear was fabric hissing as I descended from the air, landing upon his shoulders before listening to an audible crack. The drunkard screamed in agony for only a moment before he was suddenly silent. My painful hunger was subdued, relief having been brought by gushing warm blood. The soft drizzle now turned into pouring rain as I could hear thunder booming above. 

I looked up with my mouth gaped open and closed my eyes. Letting the down poor wash away the blood in which stained my face and the many years of sins I have committed against our creator. Tears rolled down my face, the first time within a century I sobbed.