Embrace The Vampires

ANgela D Brown
Group ID: embracethevampires

Diary of Aphrodite: One of my immortal alter ego's. This is her journal on thoughts, feelings, personal experiences, reflections, and her love for Razial.
Entry Two:

I was dreaming last day of my mother. I barely remember her ever saying a word. She always seemed busy working, pulling water from the well, cooking meals, sewing clothes, tending to the baby, I can't recall if it were a male or female child but she seemed to devote the majority of her time to it. I remember she prayed alot. I asked her once where the baby came from and she told me it was a gift from God. In my childish mind I pictured an enormous hand reaching down from the clouds and leaving it outside our tent. It made me wonder what else God might leave us, and for a time I would awake to go pull back the outside blanket to see if there was anything left during the night for us. This Christmas you mortals seem to love so dearly, brings back memories of this time in my mortal life. In any question that she ever returned an answer to me there was always a reference to God.

She once told me that my name came from a woman who midwived during my birth. I was a small baby and thought not to live for long. The woman carried me on a journey of days, to the temple to ask the God of her people to bless and give me a name. The elder woman in the temple annointed and blessed me. It was she who gave me my name. I found it ironic that Aphrodite was the name of the Goddess of love when I became a whore of Taeria. I would have been ashamed to have told anyone my name, if I had known this.

In this time there were many talks of God and his son. A few years past my enslavement, yet a while before my mortal death, living in the village, the whole place was in a rise. Everyone was speaking of this "Jesus" who was coming to visit us. People were coming in from other villages and towns afar to get a chance to see this Son of God, and witness his miracles. They brought their entire families and camped out along the streets and back walls, forcing us out to seek other places to do business. It was custom that we would wait behind the "L" shaped walls so that the regulars would always know where to find us, and they could spread word of our business and send others our way.

During this time business was slow and I would have to pay extra to Syndorah, the head Mistress of my Harem. She was about my age, maybe a year or two older than I, and she was very beautiful. She had been a personal servant since she was of thirteen. In being such she was ordained with gold and fine linens. Her hair long and golden, was treated each day by the house maids. She seemed to like strands of gold and sometimes silver braided into it, leaving the rest of it flowing. If she had the lot of it braided it was always tied up. I have had few encounters with women over my mortal and immortal life, but she is one that I will always remember. Each time she enter my sleeping chamber she would fill the room with scents of jasmine. Since she was Head Mistress, we would pay our earnings to her. In return we were well taken care of. I may have been a slave and a whore but I was kept by a very wealthy family. Still I would have traded all the gold they could have given me for the poor pasture of my father. It was a miserable life to have to wake up to each day. Had it not been for Syndorah, I would have probably taken my life long before my vampire birth. Her job was to only please the Master of the Harem and his wife.

I never even knew the name of the Master in all the four or so years I was there we only called him "Master", just as most slaves do. I only saw him maybe a dozen times in all these years. I encountered His wife three times as many, her name was Tarianah, very quiet and meek to be the comaster of a harem of whores, I thought. I would picture her with her dark brown hair and fair skin, as a wife of a farmer, butcher, or maybe a worker in the market. She was not unattractive but she did not look as such to take pleasure in the things that went on behind closed doors between she, Syndorah, and the Master. And she was very protective of Syndorah, I once heard her scold a house maid for ruining one of Syndorahs gowns. Then she fired her and sent her away from the house.

Time became harsh in the house while the streets were running over with Jesus followers. You would have thought this would bring even more business our way but it was quite the opposite. Tension was building in the quarters where the Master lived, between the workers, the family, and the slaves. I had hoped maybe he would set us free to leave, that I may search for love and become a wife to someone, but he did not. Syndorah would laugh making fun of me, accusing me of having childish ambitions, when I would talk of freedom and a husband, or children. But I knew secretly she would wish for the same things.

Sometimes in the night she would come to my chamber and into my bed in fear from a bad dream, or a storm outside, just as if she were the child. She would always be wagging a small pillow behind her that the elder woman of her family had given her as a toddler. I would pull her close and stroke her long golden hair until she drifted back to sleep. When she would wake in the morning she would pretend as though she was unaware of how she got there. Why she felt she had to put up this strong image, I never understood. I was always so open with my feelings, I guess I felt she should be as well. I learned to accept her impenetrable emotions and took what bit of herself she offered to me as she was ready to give it. Over time she opened up and we became the closest of friends. In after thought I reallized she just wanted someone to be open to her. She would run from anyone who vaguely insinuated she reveal any personal information or heart thought. But if you let her know you were there if she felt the need to, she would do so when she needed someone to confide in. In return for a kind ear she offered much loyalty and protection. For the last two years of my mortal life in the Harem, I dealt only with her. She personally picked out my gowns with Tarianah, and always made sure I had plenty to eat.

I would have been content to stay there with her except for the night work that terroized my whole existence. I had heard much talk of this Jesus to whom would be arriving. I had heard of many miracles and healings. In my mind, I was going to search for this Saviour when he arrived in our village. If I were to be freed, he would be the one who could help me. He would forgive me for the sins I had to live with everyday and at least I would have death and Heaven to look forward to. Each Day, I would ask the errand boy outside my window as I heard him exit the house "Has he arrived today?", and his comment would be something like "No,,, shut up, Whore, Jesus has better things to do than listen to you wine about!" I would continue to ask, for at least he would say "no". Maybe tomorrow it would be "Yes,,, shut up, Whore, Jesus has better things to do than listen to you wine about!".