By: Seifer
My life up to this point has been a dreary never ending struggle against constant opposition. I was not poor or abandoned, left to fend for myself. No, no, quite the contrary. Actually, we lived a pretty decent life, in a nice decent life, in a nice docile town in Maryland. My parents were both successful, prominent ministers and members of the town, and were very well off. They did show their love for me, in their own way. It was not through hugs, kisses, or even the occasional picnic in the park, but with trips to the Catholic Church, constantly. There was no time for a normal childhood, such as friends, games, and sports. All we ever did, my mother, father, younger brother, and I, was pray for deliverance from this "hellish, sinful pit" we call society. See, my family were hard-core, religious freaks, who though that only they and the members of their church would be the only ones to make if to the holy gates in the clouds. All others would rot in the eternally burning, gluttonous, heathen infested hole in the ground forever.
To escape this cruel and unusual world, I turn to books (they believed else was a demonic mind alterator) to gain access to the outside world. I read all books by Edgar Allen Poe. I was fascinated by the way the characters, no matter how nice of somber, had an evil darkside. The way they killed and mutilated poor souls without feelings of regret. How lucky they are to rid themselves of emotional burdens! So I set out on an intellectual quest, reading all of the war, horror, murder and cult books I could find. Until finally, I read a book, Trained to Kill, a book by a man named Staloneis Spence, it was an extremely old, printed around 1850. One afternoon, after I was through ransacking the library's meager selection of literature, when a lonely book caught my eye. Well, it really didn't catch my eye.(it did catch my forehead as it fell from the shelf.) I ignored the pain and examined the novel. It's cover was worn and battered, but strangely the pages were perfectly intact. I hurriedly checked it out, and rushed home. I couldn't put the book down. It was very short though, and I managed to finish it, and read through it a few more times in a matter of days. The story was about a happy couple who is destroyed when a rabid wolf murders the wife. The husband id of course heart broken, until an old medicine man offered to resurrected her with a secret mantra, supposedly created by Lucifer. The price was extravagant, and the husband makes sacrifice after sacrifice and is left pretty much penniless. But, as promised, the wiseman said the magic words and viola, the wife is alive again. But, she's not restored, her flesh hangs like a mutilated ragdoll, and her husband soon discovers that she has a strange hunger, for blood. And so, the wife goes on a wild blood sucking smorgasbord, until a minister chants the words of the mantra backwards with cross in hand, and banishes the beast forever.
After a few weeks I was going to return the book back (my parents were practically bursting down my door, because the late fees were mounting) to the library, when a small slip of paper I hadn't noticed before fell out. I carefully unfolded the paper and on it was some sort of code. What did it mean? Is it some kind of message? Is it the same mantra from the story? Curiosity drove me more than reluctance, and that night, I lit a circle of candles in the safety of my room and recited the words. And...nothing happened.
The next morning, I felt dizzy and disoriented. I was accused of drinking by my mother and was made to drink bleach. She said it would purify my body of the devil's poison" in my system. I was sick, and threw up pretty much everything in my system. I looked in the mirror and my face was horrible. I was never very handsome, but my face was pale and pasty, my eyes had dark rings around them and looked sunken in, also my teeth seemed... different. I stumbled back into my room and fell onto my bed. I blacked out for several hours. When I awoke, I felt a little better, but hungry. So, I went down to the kitchen to eat, but I didn't really want food, I wanted something... more. As if sleep walking, I found myself in my parents bedroom. I don't know how it happened, but I was upon them, extracting the life from their veins. I slaughtered them all to fulfill my carnal hunger. I felt a slight pinch of remorse, but only for a second. They deserved this fate, they were so anxious to go to heaven, so I just sped up the process.
Full of boundless energy, I satisfied my hunger almost as fast as it appeared. Countless neighbors were extinct by the second week of my transformation. I've managed to find a good resting place in the rafters of the old, condemned, church house for the daylight hours. I was in very much need of a tan, due to my sudden lack of sun light. But, the sun is harsh and it boils and scalds my skin relentlessly. Now, the simple pleasures, such as a walk in the park or regular food seem so far away and foreign. Alas, I will remain strong until the end.
Recently, I've been feeling very strangely, as if I can no longer control my feeding. I've been thinking long and hard about maybe ending this, but no good minded priest would come near me to recite the words to dispel this curse. Even if someone did, I'd spend the rest of my days in prison for the numerous murders I've committed, if they didn't kill me first.
I scrawl this message in great haste, I have almost completely lost my composure. Right this very second, I'm desperate for blood. To whom ever reads this, destroy that cursed book that put me into this predicament, and ruined my life. But, now you must excuse me, there is a mob of raging townsfolk rioting, trying to gain access to the church. I'm not sure how, but I'll have t o deal with them, all the hundreds of them. If I'm lucky, they'll put me out of my eternal misery...