| Fan Fiction |
| By Lidia: |
| The One I Chose |
| Disclaimer: I don�t own these characters; neither do I wish to impose on Anne's rights. So I guess they belong to Anne Rice. Dedicated to Grace, for that wonderful spec,If... ,in Claudia's point of view, lovely. Rating: PG maybe a little PG-13 for violence� **Note: This spec is written in Magnus' point of view, around the time he made Lestat. You'll get it if you read it, but I am just putting you in the right mind set when you start reading it. Don't get confused or anything. Sorry if its bad, I mostly write when I'm bored. Mmm, yes, and I didn't really read up on Paris, since I don't live that close to it, I'm just going to guess here. And I know Magnus could be around 3,000, but I'm thinking more along the lines of 200-300 because its easier and I don't want to think of some ancient civilization. I have this fascination with there always being a whore in these vampire's families�** Title: The One I Chose (1/3) *~*~*~*~*~* Years I dreamed of it, the death I craved, the death I wanted. All around me in the beginning, when I had seen other immortals�my own unwilling maker, they had been beautiful. Drawing mortals to them with helpless seduction, marveling in the world, in the love they could have with all the taking they desired. But I was different among them, upper lips curling with disdain and perhaps a measure of disgust when I was nearby, and so I remained alone. I had stolen my immortality at the frail age of fifty-two and there was never a moment in time where I did not regret it. I had been born in Paris, with my mother Anne; my father had long since run off with some whore and left us. I really didn't know what my mother had done to supply me with food and clothes, I just know that one night, she did not come home. One night�she simply disappeared. They had found her dead I supposed, drained of blood. I missed her every night of my young life, sleeping in alley's, struggling for the food I was able to salvage. Her blonde curly hair and blue eyes forever reflected in my soul. "The sunlight in your hair�the blue sky in your eyes�you are perfect Maman." I said to her each time I had seen her in the candle light, or out in the sunshine. How truly I wished I could have made her into what I was, but that would have ruined her purity. A woman of nature and love, my Maman had been. So trusting and so young she had been with my father. But I hated him, in the end he had taken her life. It hadn't been the man who had murdered him as much as it was my father. He had left us with nothing, so much that she had had to sell herself to supply me my basic needs, and for that�for that I loathed him. I never thought twice on her cause of death, I merely spent years, fantasizing on her life. What it had been like when she was alive. Even now, over two hundred years old, I still love her, still want her. Her courage, her love, her beauty. But I digress, my mother, though beautiful, shouldn't really be the topic of discussion. I had grown to be a regular young man, still living on the streets, but not particularly all that trashy. I was not beautiful, I was quite on the ugly side, as I am now, as I always have been. My self-esteem was never high, and I can't recognize why it ever would be. But I am sure you now what to hear how I came upon this vampiric life. As I stated, I had never really thought twice about my mother's cause of death, not until I was at least twenty two. Around seven at night, I believe, late enough for it to be dark, I happened to be nearby as they carted another dead, unattended body off to the cemetery�drained of blood. I remember the little boy, following the men, tears streaming down his chubby cheeks as he mumbled something about his mother. "Complet�ment drain� de sang? " [Completely drained of blood?] one of the men carting her body said as he hefted what must have been a slightly heavy stretcher . "Cela est ce qu'il a l'air de.." [That's what it looks like.] the other man had replied. Didn't cross my mind of the coincidence. I never was quite perceptive, nor very smart. I merely kept to myself in my early years�and my entire life. *~*~*~*~*~* *I watched with fascination as he latched onto the young woman's throat. She looked so familiar, so kind. She screamed, her soiled dress strained against her body as her breasts heaved as she fought to breathe against the tight vice he held her in. She raked at his back with her fingernails, before she went limp, her face blank, her lovely blue eyes dull. My mother. I saw the dead woman on the stretcher again. The little boy following behind. "Completely drained of blood?" "That�s what it looks like."* I sat up in a cold sweat, peeling back the sheets on the make-shift cot I had made in the back of an old shack. Who had attacked my mother? I tossed in my sleep all night. I remembered that dream for months, obsessed with it, longing to know if I had seen the truth in the murder that had taken my meaning in life away. The obsession became my reality, I could think of nothing else. As the nights wore on, I began to search for this unknown assailant. I had never really expected to find this attacker, merely hoping, praying I would find an answer, to sooth my coiled soul. Never did I expect it to happen. *~*~*~*~*~*~* End Part 1 I know, I know, it sucks!--Lidia Vans Fan Fiction Home |