Whispers of Yesterdays Love

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...