B orn of the chaos , that is how I am known now. My mortal name I have long since forgotten, and with good reason. The name suits me better for I truly was born from chaos, born from terror and both I inflict on those around me.
I enjoy it, I love and loath e being this creature, this character I have created, this demon I was made into. But no matter how much pain or suffering I cause the loneliness I feel when all around me has left or died... I cannot stop, for it is in my nature to be so damned bad. And if you cross my path then that is just your misfortune... and my gain.
The tale of my death I barely recall but the one who made me, he surely came from hell, born of the devil himself. This creature was evil, I saw all of his sins as he force fed me his blood. It sickens me to think of him, how repugnant he was, unlike any other vampire I have ever met.
He was old and decrepit. It appeared as though his flesh was pealing from his bones, the stench of him; it makes me retch even now as I recall it. Dirty, old, vagabond vampire, little more than a skeleton. Black, dull eyes and hair that had once had colour but now was scarcely there, clinging to his almost bald head in patches. Twisted and demented, so old that he had gone insane, or so I believe. Maybe he was just sadistic, he did enjoy playing with his food, including me.
Days he kept me, locked in an underground room, no light, little to eat or drink and at his fancy he would come and drink from me. He would wait until I was weak then open the door as if to release me. The bastard would laugh as I crawled slowly away.
Once, I made it up the stone steps and almost to the front door only to be pulled back to that pitch dark room where he would drain me almost to the point of death, then leave only for the whole episode to be repeated on his next visit.
But I go on too much about that. It was from this disgusting creature that I was made. He saw something in me. How can I describe it? So determined was I not to give up, not to be defeated by him or to die in that place that every night I would fight him and, well that excited him. Never had he heard a mortal curse him so or fight so hard against him. Over and over when he opened the door I would try to escape. Then, one night everything changed.
This cold, freezing Moscow night he came to me as usual, I took up position so that I might try to defend myself, though it never helped, as decaying as he was he was still so unimaginably strong. He came into the room, looked at me, and stared deeply into my eyes for the longest time. Neither of us moved, nor spoke, nor took our eyes off the other.
How long we were like that I don't know, but eventually it was he who broke the silence.
“I can give you everything you've ever dreamed of.” An expression of confusion spread across my face. He stepped forward, “immortality. I can make you like me.”
I was repulsed but I cannot recall speaking. I cannot recall much after that point except that he came for me and no amount of fighting could stop him.
What I remember next came from him. As he force fed me his blood he became my teacher. In those moments I learned what I needed to survive. ‘Stay away from sunlight, survive on the blood of mortals, do as you wish for you cannot die,’ all this and more, including his memories, they all flooded into my mind.
I heard his voice in my head telling me, ‘you will be a great vampire, great and evil.’ I saw what he wanted of me. In his twisted thoughts, he wanted to watch me become like him, to take life as easily as he did, to inflict suffering and to torture mortals ‘as they deserved’.
So you see this evil was put into me, forced upon me
But I digress.
After he pulled away from me I fell to the ground and it was mere moments before the pain began. The agonising ache of every muscle, every limb, every organ in my body changing from my mortal self, to function how it does now, only to process blood.
But it was in
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