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Literature Text
I spent the final days of my life alone, even though I did not know I was dying. Around me, the world seemed to be shifting. A cloud of darkness shrouded what had once been an ordinary existence and ripped from me everything I had known. For long hours, I would stand at work and stare at the people who passed me by as though attempting to figure out what changed and when. Little did I know what waited for me around the corner.
Granted, the final days leading up to the earliest hours of January 20, 1983 are somewhat of a blur to me. It might have been the enchantment I was under, or the haze of realizing I lived on borrowed time without knowing how I could be certain of such a thing. I could not tell you what those final nights were like, or if anybody could sense the fact that I was fading in the background, about to cross paths with destiny. About to slip from one skin to another. I only know that night, it all reached a crescendo and set me on the path I find myself today.
I have lived many lives by now. I have held many titles and been several people and several things already. There were years when I gazed at others with compassion latent in my stare, and years when I beheld each victim I have claimed with coldness before sending them to meet their maker. Saint and sinner; bastard, friend, and foe. So many deaths and so many rebirths. So many layers to this creature I am. This being I became.
I am a vampire, but I have not always been. I can yet recall the days when I bore a pulse. Some memories stick out much more potently than others, but the first quarter century of my immortal existence frames the lot of them in a panorama of cause and effect. Through everything I face and have faced, I can look back upon the events which preceded me and see where I have arrived and how I have arrived there. I can see the hand of fate.
Oh, if only I would have known.
Back when this all began, if I could have seen the clear path to the present, I often wonder if I would have walked gracefully into the trials which followed. I would like to think so, but I know the experiences which have filled the years. The highs and lows; the moments of despair and the moments of triumph, they have made me what I am. I am vampire, yes, but I am no ordinary immortal. I still feed as one. I possess the fangs, the will, and the consuming instincts of one. The casual observer misses something very important when it comes to me, though; a very crucial feature beneath the unruly brown hair and above the crooked smile.
Most people do not know what they should be looking for when they see me. Not many humans recognize the emerald green eyes or know of their relevance for very good reason, because unique creatures such as I do not wish for them to know. There exists an entire world underneath their noses they overlook every day and only when the supernatural falls onto their laps do they learn of its presence. I was much the same as them a few decades ago, an unsuspecting, unknowing mortal with pale blue eyes instead of the ethereal irises I now possess.
I shall not linger any longer on riddles. Suffice to say there are many layers to this creature who inhabits this mortal coil, and yet the world around me rarely casts a second glance my way. When the council of the supernatural fashioned what would be my existence, they created a paradox; an eternal enigma.
My name is Peter Dawes and this is my story.
It all started with a murder.
Granted, the final days leading up to the earliest hours of January 20, 1983 are somewhat of a blur to me. It might have been the enchantment I was under, or the haze of realizing I lived on borrowed time without knowing how I could be certain of such a thing. I could not tell you what those final nights were like, or if anybody could sense the fact that I was fading in the background, about to cross paths with destiny. About to slip from one skin to another. I only know that night, it all reached a crescendo and set me on the path I find myself today.
I have lived many lives by now. I have held many titles and been several people and several things already. There were years when I gazed at others with compassion latent in my stare, and years when I beheld each victim I have claimed with coldness before sending them to meet their maker. Saint and sinner; bastard, friend, and foe. So many deaths and so many rebirths. So many layers to this creature I am. This being I became.
I am a vampire, but I have not always been. I can yet recall the days when I bore a pulse. Some memories stick out much more potently than others, but the first quarter century of my immortal existence frames the lot of them in a panorama of cause and effect. Through everything I face and have faced, I can look back upon the events which preceded me and see where I have arrived and how I have arrived there. I can see the hand of fate.
Oh, if only I would have known.
Back when this all began, if I could have seen the clear path to the present, I often wonder if I would have walked gracefully into the trials which followed. I would like to think so, but I know the experiences which have filled the years. The highs and lows; the moments of despair and the moments of triumph, they have made me what I am. I am vampire, yes, but I am no ordinary immortal. I still feed as one. I possess the fangs, the will, and the consuming instincts of one. The casual observer misses something very important when it comes to me, though; a very crucial feature beneath the unruly brown hair and above the crooked smile.
Most people do not know what they should be looking for when they see me. Not many humans recognize the emerald green eyes or know of their relevance for very good reason, because unique creatures such as I do not wish for them to know. There exists an entire world underneath their noses they overlook every day and only when the supernatural falls onto their laps do they learn of its presence. I was much the same as them a few decades ago, an unsuspecting, unknowing mortal with pale blue eyes instead of the ethereal irises I now possess.
I shall not linger any longer on riddles. Suffice to say there are many layers to this creature who inhabits this mortal coil, and yet the world around me rarely casts a second glance my way. When the council of the supernatural fashioned what would be my existence, they created a paradox; an eternal enigma.
My name is Peter Dawes and this is my story.
It all started with a murder.
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They say that one day a young man slighted a witch. How this came to be is not remembered, nor is it of any import. But she cursed him furiously, saying thus: That he should be compelled to marry the first woman that he laid his eyes on, whether good or bad, whether stranger or sibling, whether beautiful or ugly. Then she walked away and was never heard of again.
Now, the young man, who lived under the same roof as his ten sisters and his mother and father, was much afraid. He tore his shirt to pieces and tied the cloth over his eyes, determined to be blind entirely rather than to bring such tragedy onto his family. When he returned home, af
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The sound of the sirens is what has stayed with me. I remember the explosions, the engines of the Messerschmitts, the screams of men trapped beneath the rubble. Of course I do. But it is the wail of the sirens that yet haunts my dreams, settles that same cold sickness in my gut, that same cold slickness on my palms. It is the banshee shriek of coming death.
The night was cold and clear when that sound prickled along my arms like so many icy fingers reaching out from behind the drapes.
Rowan stilled her hands at the typewriter and ripped the sheet from the machine, lest some unscrupulous eye should take advantage of her tem
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His Eyes
With each step, He drew closer to me,
Lurking in the corner, waiting patiently.
In the shadows, where He has no shape,
Devoid of any light, He is the darkness.
A rustle of wind here, a whisper there,
The night is bare, the moon is about,
Casting hiding places for Him as He moves,
Behind me, following my every step.
I knew He was behind me but I walked on,
Walked because there was no escaping Him,
But I made my mind and turned around,
Only to look upon Death, into His eyes.
The coldness in them was overpowering,
But to my surprise, I did not feel the cold at all,
Rather warmth put her arms behind me.
I saw something in those ey
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Chapter One
***
At last, the very final, completely decided upon, signed, sealed, and delivered prologue to The Vampire Flynn, Pt. 1 - Eyes of the Seer. You beautiful thing, you. Welcome back to my gallery.
Am going to change around the one in *peterdawes's gallery as well, but here, at least, I get to talk about how grateful I am to have this book set for release on June 1st and how appreciative I am for ~Jesiryu. She's the reason this was finished and has been my partner in every sense of the word in getting it ready for print.
Thank you for believing in me and inspiring me.
***
At last, the very final, completely decided upon, signed, sealed, and delivered prologue to The Vampire Flynn, Pt. 1 - Eyes of the Seer. You beautiful thing, you. Welcome back to my gallery.
Am going to change around the one in *peterdawes's gallery as well, but here, at least, I get to talk about how grateful I am to have this book set for release on June 1st and how appreciative I am for ~Jesiryu. She's the reason this was finished and has been my partner in every sense of the word in getting it ready for print.
Thank you for believing in me and inspiring me.
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Damnit, why do I always have to find something brilliant right when life gets busy? I'm not going to be sleeping for a while, thanks. xD