His eyes were full of sorrow as he brought the gavel down, sentencing me to the internment camp. I wanted to scream out it wasn’t my fault. I wanted to cry, plead, and beg for my life. But he knew this and could do nothing about it. It was not his place to judge, just to carry out the sentence of the jury. Then came his words, low and condemning. “I’m sorry, child, I understand your fear and hatred. If there was anything I could do, I would. You are different now, and will always be hunted. If I was in your position, I believe I would chose death at the internment camp rather than a life on the outside.” “But it’s not my fault!” I cried. “I did not ask to be what I have become! Count Dargos Thoreut was the being that bit me! Is there no justice! I did not ask to become a vampire!” I then fell to my knees and cried into my hands. The judge rose and walked slowly to my side. He stared at me for a while, and then laid a soothing hand upon my head, and as he ran his fingers through my dusty brown hair, he spoke. “You are young yet, child, and have not experienced the many wonders of the world. I pity you, and sometimes wonder if there is a God, and if so, why does he allow his children to suffer as you do now. You are in great anguish, I know, but you are but one life. I have to think of the whole of the townsfolk over an individual. . . I’m sorry.” Those last words caught me off guard. I could understand the hopeless resignation etched in each word of his short speech, but the human instinct of survival would not let me give up. “Could not I just leave the village never to return?” I asked, though I knew the forthcoming answer. “I can not take that chance no matter how small it may be.” He said, and then turned and walked from the room. A soldier, clad in armor, stomped over to where I was kneeling, pondering my own dilemma, and roughly lifted me from the floor. “Come with me, hell-spawned creature.” He said. Those words cut me more deeply than any blade could ever have. I wanted to lunge out and strike him down. I wanted to explain that I was not yet this foul creature known as vampire, but I knew an outburst of any kind would bring a retaliatory strike from his mailed fist, so I followed him. When we left the courthouse we were instantly set upon by a mob throwing anything at hand and yelling foul words at me. The soldier laughed at my stoning until he himself was hit with a rock. He drew his sword and the commotion stopped, then he jerked me from the ground and shoved me toward a barred carriage waiting for us on the street. The soldier bade me wait as he went to unlock the door. I looked to our driver, a man dressed in hides with a rough pitted face. He grinned a sly toothless smile as a sharp pain blasted my skull, and everything went black . . . I know not how much time passed before I awoke; jarred by the rough roads we traveled. The first thing I noticed as my eyes adjusted from their bleary state was an elderly lady dressed all in white, and wearing a silver cross which caused me some distress. I smiled as I realized she must be a cleric from the village. Her smile was so soothing and warm that it gave me a glimmer of hope. Then I saw the soldier scowling at me. “Don’t let it trick you with its deviltry, miss” he spoke harshly “ I was hopin’ the rock woulda finished it off so we wouldn’t be exposed to it.” “Can a crime be so bad as to wish someone dead?” Asked the cleric. “Ma’am, it’s a vampire, it doesn’t need a crime.” She turned my way with a look of horror upon her face. I jerked up suddenly, meaning to tear this man’s wagging tongue from his mouth, but the pain in my head was too great, and I swooned . . . When next I awoke, I found myself lying on the floor of a small room, beside a dirty cot. I stood slowly, not wanting to lose consciousness a third time. I ran my fingers over the damp, smooth walls. “So this is my home until my execution.” I said with a resigned sigh. I turned, startled as I heard the sound of the tumbler in the door lock slowly catch and turn over. “C’mon, daemon” said the soldier. “You have a visitor.” I followed him more out of curiosity than care. I have no relatives, and all my friends now shunned me. He led me to another lightless room, slightly larger than the first. There was someone in the room though in the dark, I could not make out the features. I stepped closer in order to get a better look. “Yes?” I asked. “What can I do for you in my dying hour?” “It is what I have done for you that you should concern yourself with.” The figure said. “I have convinced the executioners to wait. You are not yet fully vampire, and therefore have some innocence left within you. I pray this brings a little comfort to your tainted soul.” “Who . . .” I started to ask. “It does not matter.” Said the figure, then he turned and walked from the room and I was left alone, but smiling. For even though I could not see him, I knew who he was. The judge still cared for me. The next day I was awoken again by the sound of the door being unlocked. My time was coming sooner than it should. I was only fourteen when the incident with the Count occurred. My mother and father both died of the plague, a debilitating disease, and I was left to tend to the crops by myself. One night, while I was nursing a sick calf, he came to me. I tried to run, but I could not move. He held me with but a glare. Even as I felt his hot breath upon my neck, as his fangs pierced my very soul, I felt as helpless as the calf I dropped to the ground only to be slaughtered by his werewolves and other minions of darkness. Count Dargos Thoreut imbued me with the vampiric disease, and the damning marks upon my neck to show the world. The squeal of rusty hinges awoke me from my trance. I looked up, expecting to see the accursed soldier, but instead, I looked upon the face of the cleric from the village. “Madam” I said, a bit surprised, “To what do I owe the presence of a face so fair among these dreary walls?” She said nothing, just smiled sadly and entered my cell. “Poor child,” she said softly, “I came to apologize for my behavior on the carriage.” “Where is your cross?” I asked, concerned for her safety, as I was not yet sure of the extent of my vampirism. “I noticed your discomfort at its sight, so I have left it behind.” “Can you trust one of my kind so, that you would leave your only protection behind to add a little comfort to his life?” I asked as softly as I could. “I can and do.” She said. We sat there in silence for a while when finally she spoke. “I felt I had wronged you greatly by my being so surprised of your acquired . . . that is to say you being a . . .” “Vampire, Madam, plain and simple. It does not matter to me what I am called. I am what I have become, and nothing can change that.” “Thank you.” She said with sincere compassion and admiration. “For what?” I asked. “You have put my heart at rest.” Then she turned and left. Twenty years went by, and I saw neither the judge nor the cleric again. My vampiric powers had grown so in those years that I could have broken out long since, but I had grown content with the quiet solitude of the camp. One night, as I was meditating to a God I no longer believed in, I heard an eerie wail. A blue light appeared in front of me, and evilness like I had never known surrounded me. A chill gripped my spine as a being’s eyes peered at me from, it seemed, beyond the grave. Then it stepped through, easily seven feet tall; the mummified remains of some ancient being towered over me. Cloaked in heavy rotting skins and wielding a black wooden staff, it stood silently staring. Then it spoke, an airy water voice that sounded as a man might if he were being strangled. “Come, young one, it is time to go.” “Where?” I screamed as it turned to leave. It halted for a moment as if it were going to tell me, and then continued forward into the blue light, and I followed. It felt as if every fabric of my being was being ripped apart as I was pulled through the light. Then, almost as suddenly as it began, it was over, and I was lying on the cold stone floor of some ancient place. “Welcome young one,” said a familiar voice. “I hope your trip was comfortable.” I rose up just enough to see him, to confirm my darkest fears. He was dressed in black clothing with a red silk lined cape. Upon his chest he wore an amulet with a large faceted amethyst. His violet eyes pierced my soul. I was in the court of Count Dargos Thoreut. I rose to my feet and walked slowly to stand in front of him. We stood there in silence for a great while, when finally I spoke. “So has my time come? Am I finally to die?” “Yes.” Replied Dargos, “But first I would like to talk. It has been so long since I have had a conversation with one of my own, and I am sure you have questions.” “I just wanted to know why you have done this to me, and why you have let me suffer for so long before finishing what you started.” I said shakily, trying my best not to burst into tears. He stared at me with a very serious look on his face, as if deciding how best to word his answer. “The people of the village are just fodder, cattle to be drained when I thirst, but you were different. Your blood was powerful. As it filled my being, it almost overcame me. I returned to my castle leaving you drained, but not dead, to ponder this strange occurrence. It has taken me twenty years to shrug off your blood’s influence upon my body. You matured as a vampire much faster than I. I am afraid that if I allow you to grow any more than you have, you will one day overtake my throne.” He pause and looked to an ancient clock in one corner of the great room. “The hour grows late, and I have not feasted upon mortal blood in over twenty years, so if you would, lay down upon the altar.” I turned and laid eyes upon a marble table, with etchings of marvelous work. A knight in battle with a great dragon being the most prominent. I walked, head bowed, to the altar and lay upon it. Dargos produced from the folds of his vest, a silver dagger, runes of magic dancing on the blade. “A marvelous piece of work is it not?” He asked, holding the weapon out so I could see. He gripped the pommel tighter and used his hand to brace himself as he stood. He walked confidently to my side and stood there, staring. “I have lived for over ten-thousand years. In that time I have forgotten what it was like, the transformation from mortal to vampire. Please, tell me of your journey.” “It was painful as my limbs grew stronger.” I began. “In time I found I could crush stone with my bare hands, but with the power came the blood lust, an irresistible summons that plagues me night and day. I have fought it so, to where I have resorted to eating the rats in my cell . . . there was a time when I almost took a human life. A young guard came in to bring me my daily rations at the same time I was fighting an inner struggle with the entity that had become my soul. When I saw him, saw his muscular neck, I lost control and sprang upon him, but I could not bring myself to kill him . . . to sink my fangs into his throat and drink of his life’s blood. After that, I had more control over my vampiric self.” “You have indeed become powerful young one.” Said Dargos. He then positioned the dagger above my chest and said, “If I could turn back time, I would have left you dead. I would have sparred you the horrors of my world.” The dagger pierced my skin and his next words came as but a whisper. “I’m sorry.” The dagger slid between my ribs, and robbed my lungs of their air, then found my heart and plunged through. A sharp pain wracked my body, then all was silent . . . All was still . . .