Laura - 1963
Darkness. Fear. My heart thuds, almost breaking free from my ribcage. I gasp for air, but there isn't enough for my thirsty lungs. Fear can be a dreadful thing, killing you before your time comes. Reaching out in the dark, I touch a wall in front of me. Same on my left and right. A hard floor beneath my back as I am lying flat. Where am I?
Mama always tells me to be home by the time the darkness engulfs the land. But I am young and headstrong. Life screams at me to live it wholeheartedly. Mama talks all the time about creatures lurking in the shadows, waiting to catch children and young virgins. Mostly, I nod, rolling my eyes internally.
A sliver of light shines through the hinge of the door above me. Sounds. People are talking, but I can't understand a word they're saying. The roaring in my ears must cease for me to hear what is going on outside. I take long, slow breaths to calm myself and lower my heart's rhythm.
"The Council has reached a decision. You have been found guilty of killing another member of our kind. Your punishment is simple. A life for a life."
Through my wooden cage, I hear a man's loud, proud voice. "I'm ready to die. I've lived enough."
"We said a life for a life, not a death for a death. You killed one of our own. Therefore, you will sire a new one instead."
This time the man's voice gets shaky, trembling. "I… I sired no one before."
"Our thoughts exactly. It's time for you to do it."
My eyes can't see anything when the wooden board is lifted from above me. When the darkness of my cell has been all I could see for god knows how long, the light blinds me. To help my sight, I use my hands to lay shadows upon my eyes.
My legs shake like leaves in the wind as I rise to my feet. I couldn't stretch them inside that thing they kept me in. Maybe that's why my legs don't want to move. What is this place? Who are these people? What do they want from me? My eyes haven't yet recovered. All I can see are blurring shapes.
The neutral voice from whom appears to be a Council member - god knows what that means - speaks. "This woman is yours to own. Bring her into our fold. This is your cross to bear."
A chill breeze creases my skin. I slowly lift my head from my hands, warm tears rolling down my cheeks. The night is starry. A full moon brightens the sky. Three men in black with hoods covering their faces loom tall in front of me on a higher pedestal.
I glance to the side, where I see a face. And what a face... Pale skin, a broken nose, and an opened, toothless mouth. An iron circle rusts around his neck's punctured skin and chains hold his arms and legs. Yet those shackles pale in contrast to the ones that haunt his face. In his eyes, there is no hope, no desire to live. This man wants to die. He's been waiting for that sweet escape for a long time.
Gulping, I see myself in his place. Iron spikes penetrate my flesh, streams of blood seeping through the wounds and down my chest. This can't be happening to me. I won't end up like this ghostly man. Shaking my head, I drive away that dreadful image from my mind.
Footsteps approach, and my legs still won't budge more than the expanse of my shivers. A gentle touch on my shoulder and a warm voice. "Tell me, child, how old are you?"
It's the same voice, the man that is being judged here. I can glimpse through my eyelashes his sky-blue eyes. "Seventeen," I mumble as my voice fades away.
The man turns his back on me. "She is barely a child!"
"There were others much younger than her who thrived, even in the Council. We are done talking!"
Another man steps forward with a glass, punctures the toothless prisoner's flesh, and fills his glass with blood. My chest heaves and I freeze. My knees buckle as violent tremors shoot through my body. Cold sweat drips down my back. In my ears beats the rhythm of my heart.
I swoon at the sight of so much blood. But the man with blue eyes and a warm voice holds me steady when I sway. What in heaven is happening here?
The man holding the glass turns and consumes the entire amount of crimson liquid in one go. My whole life, I was wrong. There is no such thing as heaven, and I am in hell. Or perhaps in a dream. I must be hallucinating! These types of things only happen in dreams. I need to get up! No more!
"Please, let me go," I manage to say with a trembling voice. It doesn't even sound like my own. I don't feel like myself. "I want to go home!"
One of the hoods moves as a council member signals something to someone on my right. I turn in time to see broad shoulders too close to have time to run. The light flickers upon a silver blade.
My mouth opens to scream in dismay, but nothing comes out. Why? As I touch my throat, my fingers are bathed in a warm, thick liquid. A fine line along my neck ignites a pang of pain. I raise my hands only to discover they are painted in red. My muscles aren't mine to control anymore. My body falls to one side, blood pumping out of my neck as I suffocate and choke.
"It's your choice. Turn her or let her die!"
The last words I hear before the darkness takes me. Thoughts continue to swarm inside my head while my muscles succumb to numbness. Why me? Is this a nightmare? You get to wake up when you die in a dream, right? I'll wake up... I'll wake up...
Laura - AliveThe world is teeming with life and sensations I couldn’t see before. The air itself sizzles with electricity, and my skin tingles under the sun’s warmth. My heart is beating so fast that I can hear its thumping in my ears. Oh, how good it is to be alive. But then again, what is death?It’s a void, a nothingness, the absence of everything.So even though death is the ultimate lack of all existence, isn’t it also a state where we are given a chance to start anew?I’m not sure what I expected, but the reality is better than anything I could have imagined. Every day is a new adventure, and I love every minute of my life, full of laughter, hugs, and kisses. I must admit, destiny has one hell of a way of playing tricks on a girl. When I was young and wanted to live, I died. When I was an abomination and wanted to die, I was born anew. Sometimes, nothing goes the way you want it to, but not always what you want is what you get. And maybe it’s for the best. I am free of my c
Paul - The Retezat MountainsAuburn leaves fall kissed by the cold winds. A cold mountain that still hasn’t welcomed winter. An owl hoots a few times and, as I pass, flies away, out of reach. I can feel the change in the air, now thick with the scent of incoming rain. The sky above the tree’s canopy is gathering heavy clouds, soon to be released in a torrent of droplets. The first few stars peeking through the dark gray curtains are a sign that I don’t have much time left to find Laura. I know I'm close. To her. And I know why she ran away, putting distance between us. Because I'm possessive and selfish, not wanting to give her what she needs. I can't give her what she wants without losing everything I love. And I love her. But it seems I'm doomed to lose her anyhow.I've lost so much time denying reality, turning a blind eye to the truth. "I'm coming, Laura," I whisper to myself. The trees seem to go on forever, the forest floor stretching into the distance. Laura is nowhere in s
The Gypsy Witch - Her hutMy nose scrunches. A sweet smell permeates the air, like a mixture of old spices and fresh herbs. There’s a slight vibration below my feet; the ground seems to shake with every step I take. Something will happen soon. Hehe! I should better ask the key. I reach into my pocket and take out the instrument of my favorite art. The key is a simple piece of metal for any ungifted person. But for me, it is a tool that can open the secrets of the future. I turn it over in my hand, feeling the smoothness of its surface. Cleidomancy is one of the most powerful and ancient forms of divination. It is the art of reading the future by observing the movements of a spellbound key. Some say the spirits of the dead are the ones who turn the key and direct the motion. Hehe!A witch never looks directly at the key. Instead, she always studies it from the corner of her eye, making sure she isn't seen peeking. Otherwise, the key won't move.My fingers are tingly as they seem to b
Laura - At homeI find myself lying on a bed of black velvet inside an empty room with no windows or doors. The walls are lined floor-to-ceiling with bookshelves, each filled from top to bottom. The books are all different sizes and shapes, but they all have the same purpose: to fill the emptiness inside me. “Because I’m hollow on the inside,” I whisper to myself. Under the blanket next to me, there is a figure wrapped in the same black velvet. I reach out and remove the cover, revealing an old man. His skin is wrinkled and pale, and his hair is entirely white. He looks as if he is sleeping. He slowly opens his eyes and looks at me. His hand comes up to touch my face but loses its vigor halfway through. “Are you real?” I ask him.He sighs, closing his eyes. Only a whisper of a breath escapes his lips. “Don’t be afraid, Laura. I’ll always love you.”“No!” I scream. “This can’t be real. This man can’t be Paul.”His strong features and soft gray eyes are the same. His voice is the sa
Alisa - Stryga Inc, her officeBefore entering my office, I stroll down a short hallway and pass my assistant’s desk. Official-looking diplomas and the like hang on the wall behind her. I catch a glimpse of FB reflected in one of them as she turns off her tablet and looks up at me. Does anyone even consider this company an actual workplace? Every employee is a glorified receptionist, and most of them dawdle their time away in front of their computers without doing any real work. When did I become the most diligent person around? “Good morning, Miss Cristescu,” she says, making a good show of turning toward her computer screen as if she has tons and tons of work to do. Her voice is light and cheerful enough, showing that she hasn’t noticed my mood today. Or that she couldn’t care less.If I were to say anything to her, I would fire her on the spot. But starting to dispose of the people who annoy me would leave me working all by myself. So I just nod and continue on my way. Sighing,
Laura - HomeFearing I could drop the puppy from my shaky hands, I slowly set him down on the floor. He immediately starts whimpering and wagging his tail, but I'm too scared to pick him up. I back away slowly, watching him from the corner of my eye as he scrambles to his feet. My legs feel like jelly, and I sit on the couch's edge. Several decades have passed since I've last seen Iustin, my maker. The night I met him was the night I died—the night I became a strigoi. I look at my shaking hands, remembering those times.He was the one who turned me into one of them, holding my dead body in his arms for three days and three nights, keeping my soul trapped inside and forbidding it from going to the other side. For a long time, I thought he lied to me about the process until I did the same to Alisa and turned her into a strigoi as well. He helped me escape the strigoi Council's tight grip, and I owe him my life if my life counts for anything. Iustin covered up my ability to read minds