A Letter to Daniel

Dear Daniel,

I didn't mean for it to happen like this. I didn't think of how our lives could be negatively impacted. I only wanted to protect you, to shield you away from the world. Instead of allowing me to help you safely grow up, the world decided to punish me for the lengths I went to safeguard your innocence. He promised me a life without sickness, without mortality, and one where I could always defend you. I was unable to resist the noble picture he painted before my eyes. After our parents died, we were all each other had, and I was not going to let the same affliction take me. So, I decided to make a deal with the devil, which cost me what you would expect: everything. I do not know if God or something else decreed the fate that fell upon us, but I wish I could take back what happened. I wish I had never met that man.

The man who offered me immortality preferred to be addressed as my 'sire'. I met him outside of town, in the surrounding meadow. He had light brown hair, spoke with an English accent, towered above me in height, and carried himself with an air of righteous superiority. His desire for me to call him 'sire' isn't too surprising to me now. He was a man with a supreme god complex. Our time together did result in personal growth for me, though not in the way I originally anticipated. My sire taught me how to control the urge of drinking blood, as well as how to take advantage of my new speed, strength, and senses. And yet, my powers were useless when it came to protecting you. I still remain unaware of the precise moment they began to suspect me being a vampire. Most thought the reason for me no longer appearing in the day was due to me falling ill. I think you even believed I had gotten sick, like mother and father. I suppose, in a way, I was sick. I hardly spoke to anyone after I was turned into a creature of the night. Even though I did venture out into the village when the sun sank beneath the hills, no one made an effort to speak to me. Did they actually believe I was diseased? Did they fear becoming afflicted themselves? I often heard them whispering about me, pitying me, but never anything indicating what was to come.

Years passed, seasons changed, and our town grew in size. Lurking beneath the new developments, an unexpected enemy arrived. You informed me of the Puritan minister's arrival, and how he gained support and love from the village. You also told me he helped you come to terms with your mourning and relationship with God. I, of course, could never attend his morning sermons, which, perhaps, was what possibly led to me gaining his attention. While the majority of the other villagers had grown accustomed to me coming out only during the dark, he would wait in front of his church, urging me to find the Lord during the light and come hear him preach His message. I'd offer a faint smile, a few words of small talk, but never anything further. Now with everything I know, I should have lured Minister Amos away from the church's steps, pretended to be desperately in need of his help, and snapped his neck when he tried to 'rescue' me.

Our town's prosperity continued with successful harvests and valuable trade partners from other settlements. Everything was perfect. Then, came a night when the Harvest Moon was gleaming down upon the fields beyond our village, and an eruption of screaming and shouting broke the serene atmosphere.

I recall that I had been out picking herbs in the nearby meadow, the one where we used to play as children, and the one where I met my creator, so I could use them to further strengthen your immune system. I was obsessing over what danger the future might bring your way, when I should have been focused on the present. I decided to leave my wicker basket where I was still collecting ginseng stalks and roots, then I headed in the direction of the hollering. Thanks to being a vampire, I could better pinpoint the origin of the noises, so I kept going down the dark path exiting the meadow. I didn't feel a sense of foreboding, not until I realized I was walking closer to the direction of home and smelled smoke. I thought the ruckus was the product of late night revelry. I was wrong. The screaming then picked up again, but was now steadily increasing in volume, resulting in my head aching and a sense of dread taking over my heart. I could no longer control my pace. I took advantage of the new strength and endurance of my muscles, using them to blur through the woods.