My Mothers Rumor

The second in my succession of dreams, and my favorite

I live alone in a war torn land. My home is a small house set high up in the mountains, far from every form of contact, be it human or otherwise. My mother and I have always lived here, away from the prying eyes and minds of society. The war has not touched us yet.

I over hear a rumor my mother has spoken:
Human tears make human blood irresistible.
And I wonder what this means.

I am a young women, not yet 21. My home contains no mirrors, but once, not so long ago, I managed to catch a glimpse of my reflection in a bucket of water. I have skin as translucent as dough, and hair as dark as midnight. It falls in long curls around my face, framing my unnaturally blue eyes. Some would say that I am pretty. Perfect teeth sit in my mouth, but I have no need of them. Yet.

Time passes, and the sun never shines. It has always been this way, for as long as I can recall. I am alone now. Mother laid herself down one day, and gave up her spirit, leaving me the house and all the woods to roam in. I have never met any other in the whole of my life.

And the rumor stays with me:
Human tears make human blood irresistible.

The autonomy I once had living in the high forest is all at once over. When the war touches my little house, I am still in my white night gown, my feet bare. It is cold outside, but I never feel it. And out of my safe woods come the figures of men, dark beacons of doom in their blue uniforms. With them are figures clothed in white, not unlike myself.

I am to be their prisoner.

The humans, dressed in their dark uniforms, are herding the ones like me to a place where we can do no harm. At least not the them. The problem with this plan, though seemingly perfect to these humans, is that I have never done any harm. I have lived my life in peace, away from the prying eye of society, as my mother saw fit.

They kidnapped me, forced me to come with them, these human guards ruthlessly making us walk for hours on end in nothing but our white dresses and nightclothes. But for the first time, I am with others of my kind. Others like me. Never free as I had once been, but with my same fate for all of eternity.

And still I remember the rumor.
Human tears make human blood irresistible.

I ask someone who walks close to me, an old one. He laughs at me and says, "Are you not cheeky," as the others laugh around him.

"I mean it," I reply, as we sit by the fire. "What does it mean."

"Have you never tasted human blood before, then?" He asks, smiling.

"No, never. Is it a necessity?" I reply.

"Is it a...surely you are merely mocking me, young one." He responds, his teeth gleaming in the firelight.

"No, I'm not...."

"Human blood is essential to your frame, for once tasted, without it, you would die. It is a wonder that I couldn't tell, but none of us have had any for so long, its not so difficult to be mistaken. We are all so pale." And I finally understood why the humans appeared so dark next to me. I was white for a reason.

"But what does it mean? The human tears." I ask again.

"It means, young one, that when the smell of a human tear reaches us, we can no longer resist there blood. It calls us to them, more then the heartbeat of living being themselves. I wouldn't like to be around when you are tested to resist, for it shall be gruesome." And with that, he chuckles and turns away.

And it is in the night, next to the fire, that I realize what I am. I am not human, but I've always known this. I realize why there is a war in this torn country, why my mother chose to hide me away, why the humans are taking us far away from this land.

Because I am not welcome, and I am dangerous. I am a vampire. And someday, I would kill an innocent.

It is this realization which causes me, on a cold morning without a sun, to take that leap of faith. Literally. We are walking threw the high forest, we are surrounded by trees. But we walk on the edge of a cliff. So, I run, and jump.

And I don't die.

For as I fall, I see others like me. They are dressed in the white that marks our kind, and they don't fall. They fly. They teach me how. And I have never felt so free. One of them meets my eyes as I learn from them, never speaking a word. His eyes tell me of freedom beyond the high forest, of life with out the humans. As I leave them to touch the ground, for I can not stay a loft forever, I wonder if that was the life my mother intended for me.

I find a path and I walk along it. But then, a scent, a smell, draws me further and further, faster, and faster down the path. I see a cottage, alone in the dark surroundings, a small tendril of smoke emitting from the chimney. As I approach, I notice the white fence that surrounds it, but it is only until I am upon the house that I hear the ear shattering scream. And then I see her.

I turn to flee, running from this crying human child, but she follows me where ever I run, always with me. It is not my desire to kill her, for she is young and innocent, but she still follows, screaming and crying, tears falling from her young eyes. And I know a thirst unlike any other I've ever felt. So I run.

But then, she is in front of me, calling to me. "Please, I have no mother," she begs, crying still. I look at her innocent face, and I see my mother's. I see my own as a child, when it was reflected from the bucket of water. I see loneliness, fear, innocents. And I know then that I can never kill this child.

"Then I suppose I'll have to be mother to both of us," I say finally. I reach down, pick her up, and carry her to the road. We walk this way down the path, her irresistible tears falling on my shoulder, until we meet the humans and my companions.

They are amazed that I did not kill the child, and stare in wonder as I walk into the crowd carrying her small form.

She is my child now, and she travels with me. At 21, I learn that I am a vampire, and I become a mother.

And it is with this instance, that the humans realize that it is possible for our two races to live in peace. In time, the sun shines again. My country is no longer war-torn.

And my mothers rumor fades from my mind.

The dreams

I don't know if I've mentioned before, but I am a dreamer. My dreams are extremely vivid, not just in color, but in the thoughts and feelings I have as I walk through these dreams. The things I experience in these dreams are sometimes so real, so natural to me at the time, that I forget when I wake up that I was dreaming. I sometimes wonder if what I see is not a product of my over-active imagination, and more things that actually happen. Not to me, of course, but to others. But that's beside the point.

I recently had a succession of dreams that I felt worthy of writing down. I don't know if they actually mean something, but what I do know, is that someday, I just might actually have a story that revolves around one or all of them.

I'm not sure if I'll fit it all into one blog, or I'll take one for each, so be prepared. And they are crazy. Enjoy.


The First:
Its hot. So hot I can taste the air as it sears my lungs, the taste on my tongue a mixture of sand and hot spice. I'm in shorts and a tank-top, standing in a long room looking out a bay window. The window overlooks a vast desert, filled with mountains of sand, and the heat is leaking into every corner of that room.

I'm getting ready to leave on an expedition into that very vast desert that I am overlooking. My bags are packed and I'm ready to get into the van. We just have one more stop.

As we drive through the desert, I am plagued with thoughts of my home in America, the coolness of my room, but for some reason, I have no right to go back there.

What is I have done?
Why is the man I love not with me?
Why won't my mother look me in the face, but smiles every time she speaks to me?
Why am I happy here, for I know that I am, and I would never leave it behind.

Just as the great pyramids come into view, my thoughts turn to my good friend an confidant, Lizzy. As we pull over in front of the tan Sphinx, I think to myself "I have to remember to tell Lizzy about this. She will flip!"

We leave the cool comfort of the vans to trek through the burning sands towards the museum which lies directly between the Sphinx feet. Before we enter, I hear a loud boom, as my mother comes racing across the sands, desperately yelling at me to turn around.

Its a race to the car for our very survival. As I jump in and buckle up, I ask, "what happened." She doesn't answer.

"Mom."

"We can't stay here anymore."

And I think to myself, "no. We can't go home yet."

As the sun sets over the desert, our tracks are slowly eaten away by the encroaching desert.

And it was still hot.