The Lost Love of a Vampyre

The Lost Love of a Vampyre

It was a dark, foggy night in London, when I first saw her. What day this was, I couldn't say, since time has a way of becoming obsolete in my life. She was the perfect picture of beauty with her hair pulled back from her face, cascading down in curls. Her smile touched a long forgotten vein in my heart. I had to approach her. As I walked up to her, she turned toward me with this odd gaze that seemed to question my very existence. Something about her reminded me of someone I knew long before. With her in front of me, I could discern her dress with the empire waist tied with a long sash to be of red velvet, matching a ribbon in her hair. The red color of her attire was quite a contrast to her complexion, which was distinguished most by her pale skin, pigmented an icy buttermilk, as if one had poured buttermilk into snow. She had eyes and hair the color of deep chestnut. Her gaze intimidated me, but I kept my composure about me.

“Good evening, dear Lady,” I said, “What brings you out on the cobblestone roads so late at night?”

“I was merely taking a midnight stroll until you came along,” she told me.

“A woman such as you shouldn’t wander the streets so late at night,” I informed her.

“A woman such as me?,” she said with a toss of her curls. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I meant you are beautiful, and apt to tempt robbers, or worse rippers,” I answered.

“I see,” she said.

“I could escort you home, if you'd like,” I offered.

“I do not just go about accepting invitations from men I am not acquainted with,” she said.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” I said as I gazed deeply into her eyes and took her hand. “I am Daniel Harris Cavalier. May I ask your name, my lady?”

“Well, Mr. Cavalier, you may ask,” she said smugly, but I may not answer. Cavalier?, doesn't that have something to do with poetry?"

"You are correct miss," I said, "it does. Surely, you have a name as lovely as your smile."

"I might, and I might not, Mr. Cavalier," she said. "Do not take this in any way other than for what it is, but you have the bluest eyes. They remind me of a poem."

"A poem?," I said, "by who?"

"By myself," she said.

"Would you tell it to me?," I asked.

"Very well," she said, "shall we walk towards the park over there to sit a moment?"

We walked across the street to a bench near the front of the park. Sitting beside her tempted me in many ways, but again I held my composure. As she spoke, that vein in my heart felt as if it had been reborn inside of me, and the warmth from that feeling was quite comforting to my weary soul.

"This poem is called Dream Words," she said.

"Why?," I inquired of her.

She drew in a deep breath and sighed; obviously, I had disturbed her inner rhythm. I hoped that I hadn't annoyed her.

"It is called Dream Words," she said, while seeming slightly annoyed with me, "because the inspiration behind it came to me in a dream! Now, may I continue, Mr. Cavalier?"

"I do not mean to seem intrusive," I said, "but what was the dream about?"

"You would think with a man, who bears a last name such as yours," she said, "that you would let me continue without interruptions. As for your query, it is none of your concern! I'd like to continue on with the poem now, if you do not mind?"

I shook my head and listened intently, as her voice reflected the very feeling behind the words. I closed my eyes, and saw what I perceived to be the dream she had held.

“Dream Words,” she said,

“Your blue eyes captivate

My thoughts,

Leaving me bewildered

By your gaze...

I do not know

What they seek of me,

And your words

Haunt my mind

In my dreams

You come to me,

Speaking of logic...

I felt in my heart the rekindling of

An old flame,

And as you spoke,

I felt your eyes

Gaze deeply into my soul's heart...

What does this mean?

And what is it, about you?”

“Lovely,” I said, “absolutely lovely, that is a beautiful poem. A creator of such a work ought to have as lovely a name. Do you not agree?”

“Is that another demand of my name?,” she said. “Rather clever.”

“Will you answer such a clever plea?,” I said with a sheepish smile.

“How could I deny such cleverness as a response, or neglect the charming eyes that ask?,” she said. “My name is Scarlet Victoria Leigh.”

“It is as lovely!,” I said.

“Thank you, Mr. Cavalier,” Miss Leigh said as she arose to her feet, “and now I really should be getting home.”

“I insist on escorting you!,” I said.

“Very well,” Miss Leigh said, “I suppose we are acquainted.”

We had walked quite a ways, when she broke the silence with her soft pleasant voice.

“My father thinks I should marry some gentlemen he knows,” Miss Leigh said, nonchalantly. “He has no regard for how I feel. Why is it that men are always only thinking about their interests, without any care for anyone else’s? He doesn't care that my love has just died. You’re a man, what do you think?”

“That's quite a question,” I responded, not knowing what to say. “Is that why you were on a walk, to clear your mind?”

“Yes,” Miss Leigh said, “I was clearing my mind, until you came along. I was thinking of my lost love. Tell me, have you ever lost anyone?”

“Actually,” I told her, “I would have to say yes. I did lose someone once. It was tragic, and I have never been the same since.”

“What makes it so tragic; isn't just the fact of losing someone, tragic?,” Miss Leigh said.

“Now, you are being intrusive,” I said.

“Oh, I didn't mean...,” Miss Leigh said.

I put my finger on her lips and hushed her, as I said, “I really do not mind. I would like to share my story, that is, if you will share yours? Besides, it should help to talk about it.”

“Please do share, I like stories, and I'll gladly share mine in return,” Miss Leigh said.

“Before I start,” I said, “I must ask where it is, that you live, it seems to be a long way from where I saw you at first?”

“It is not too much farther, but we have time to talk,” Miss Leigh said.

“Very well,” I said, “Here is my tale. It all began at a social gathering that I was privileged enough to be invited to. The social gathering was to celebrate the birthday of a young woman named Tara. She was a beautiful woman like yourself, Miss Leigh. She had olive skin and hair the color of dark chocolate. I fell in love that night. Before the night was through, I just had to be introduced to Tara. After our acquaintance we spent an entire year getting to know each other. Actually, the summer was spent with me chasing after her, until she finally gave in. After that, we had much fun together, and we were practically inseparable. The understanding between us was remarkable. Anyway, around Christmas we got engaged. It wasn't long after our engagement, that strange things started to occur. Two tiny indentations appeared on the left side of her neck, and she began to speak of a strange man, who visited her every night. She soon fell very ill, and died on her twenty-first birthday. Tragic as that was, things got worse. I swear she rose from the grave and haunted me, until one night I submitted to her, succumbing to her beauty and my love for her. Thinking myself mad, I had to check her tomb. When I arrived in her burial chamber, she sat up, smiled at me, and approached me. I thought I was hallucinating, but her kiss felt real enough. As she kissed my neck, I felt myself faint. I awoke some time later to find her lying in her tomb. I'm a sensible man, but I swore something just was not right. So for my peace of mind, and to be certain that my love was at peace, I took a wooden cross from the wall and stabbed it through her heart. That is why my tale is so very tragic. I didn't just lose my love once, but I was haunted to the point that I felt I had to desecrate her breathless resting corpse.”

“But if she was a vampire, and possibly bit you,” said Miss Leigh, “then you would be one as well. Am I not right?”

“ If she was,” I said, “then according to legend I suppose you would be correct, that is, if you believe myths.”

“Not that I do believe,” said Miss Leigh, “but wouldn't you want to live out eternity with her?”

“No!,” I said, “I would rather she had peace.”

“I see,” said Miss Leigh, “Why don’t we go sit over there.”

I followed her pointing finger through the iron gates before us to lay my eyes upon a marble bench in front of a quaint little structure that seemed all too familiar to me.

“But, that is the cemetery!,” I said.

“Are you afraid, Mr. Cavalier?,” Miss Leigh said.

“No, I just think it a peculiar place to stop to rest,” I told her.

“Well, it is where I wish to be,” Miss Leigh informed me.

“Very well,” I said, “if that is what you wish.”

We entered the creaking gates, and sat down on that little marble bench.

“Mr. Cavalier, this is my tale,” Miss Leigh announced. “It all began at a social event held in my behalf. I watched him standing across the room, with his piercing blue eyes, that I could not ignore. I wished to avoid him this time, unlike the other brief moments that had put him in my acquaintance. He had come to every event I attended that summer, ever since my birthday that spring. He would always try to get a few moments alone with me, and to my surprise he was quite adept at that. I would easily fall for his little schemes and traps. I dodged my friends to reach the foot of the stairs. It wasn't long that I had been climbing the winding stairs, that I heard footsteps behind me. I knew it was him. My pace became more brisk as I tried to get away from my pursuer. As I went round a bend in the stairwell I was able to catch a glimpse of my pursuer, and my assumption had been correct. I soon reached my guest quarters, and quickly rushed inside, closing the door behind me. I ran to my bed, and fell down onto it, reveling in the soft satin sheets and the soft fluffy pillows. A sense of relief fell over me. I heard the door click open, and then silently be shut with another click. In moments he was above me, restraining me, and those piercing eyes stared deeply into my own. He began to speak to me, reasoning with me. His words struck deeply into my mind, embedding themselves there. It was not long after this event, that we were engaged to be married. Unfortunately, I fell ill not long after our betrothal. I felt as if I was going to die, but I didn't. But as I've told you before, my love is dead to me. And I am now alone. Neither chased, courted, nor claimed. Sometimes I blame myself, and my illness, other times, I blame him. So you see, Mr. Cavalier, my life is a tragedy.”

“You poor dear,” I told her, “ If only there were something I could do.”

“Well, there isn't,” Miss Leigh said.

“May I escort you the rest of the way home?,” I inquired.

“No, this is where I stop,” Miss Leigh said. “Tell me, Mr. Cavalier, did Tara feel like this?,” she asked as she drew me close and took my left hand into her right.

“Miss Leigh, I do not think this is a way a lady should behave,” I said nervously, “afraid I might take advantage of the situation.”

She took my hand that she had in hers and guided it to a place on her chest, where I felt a strange indented crevice, and then she said, “Do you know who I am?”

I stood silently staring into those familiar eyes, I knew at once this was my love, not her reincarnation, but my true love, Tara.

“Dan, you fool!,” she hissed. “The human heart is on the left, not the right! To think I wanted to spend an eternity with you. I could never spend an eternity with someone, who never learned their right from their left!”

She ripped herself from my arms, and quickly spun around. I felt her hair slap me in the face. I watched her walk away, into her tomb. I realized what a fool I truly had been; I could have had her forever. The damned truly are damned, and I am damned.

The End...