These are the journal entries of a centuries old vampire, Nicolas Rider. Welcome to his world...

Tuesday, July 30, 2013

September 6, 1664 - Paris

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     My hands do not catch every tear as tap the cold floor. I lean my head against my knees, letting my tears stain my shirt. Quietly, I let my sorrow wrap its arms around me in a pained embrace. I let my memories of her course from my eyes. A sweet local with the face of an angel and a talent for cooking that I would swear she sold her soul to possess. One month is all I had with her. One month on my own, without any other vampires living with me. 
     Full of life, she taught me the best parts of all things French, cooking and… well. Never once did she ask why I didn’t taste any of the food. Perhaps, she knew my secret. Either way, she was doomed when she agreed to stay with me, night and day. Once my family returned, our hiatus was over and the reality of my fate was restored. The scent of her blood still lingers on my hands, despite how much I’ve scrubbed them. Not even my tears can wash it away. I should have realized that vampires and humans cannot be friends.  

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