Friday, March 1, 2013

As promised. Tell me what you think!


My name is Elizabeth, and I died April 5th, 1864.
                                    This is the story of my afterlife, and of my rebirth.
I became one of the undead. I am Vampyre. Let me separate fact from fiction for you. Now, contrary to popular belief, Vamps are only slightly sensitive to sunlight, and they don’t necessarily need blood to survive. We don’t freaking sparkle. We are a tiny bit stronger than humans and we age much slower. We aren’t immortal, but damn near close to it. The oldest Vampyre lived to be 900 years old before he did die of old age. Well, that bullet to the heart helped a bit.
I’m going to let you in on a secret early. In my past life, I was a witch. I came from a proud and long line of earth worshipping sorceresses. Now, I know what you’re thinking, witchcraft is nothing but candles and chanting, right? It’s all poppycock. That’s wrong. Everyone has magical blood coursing through their veins. Whether or not they have the courage to discover it, that’s up to them.  There are five known types of magic. Earth, wind, water, fire, and spirit. My family practiced under the ancient goddess Selene – the goddess of the moon and of water.  Most people associate magic with evil. That’s only half right. Magic was given to us by the ancient gods and goddesses to use for good, but the first witch, Haila, turned against her coven and stormed the temples, tearing down the statues and erecting her own. She intended to rule the world. The goddess of war, Syrene, acted swiftly, facing off against Haila and trapping her forever in her own statue. But that’s a story for another time. I don’t want to overwhelm you.  
            Let me begin by telling you my story. It begins at the very end of the Civil War, when there was an uneasy peace, both sides still ready to fight at a moment’s notice. Now, contrary to what Abraham Lincoln has said, the Civil War wasn’t really about state’s rights and freedom. A bunch of southerners had discovered several covens of African witches and imprisoned them. They had hoped to harness the witches’ powers, or at the very least, dominate them.
            The North found out about the prisoners and stormed the south, determined to free them, so that they could befriend the covens and learn from them. When the war began, the covens escaped via the Underground Railroad. I was born to a wealthy family who owned one of the covens. Unlike the majority of the south, my family didn’t put the coven into shackles and put them to work in the fields. We recognized the potential of the small family and instead treated them as part of ours. The youngest daughter, Nahlia, and I became the best of friends. She taught me to unlock my own magical potential and soon I became the most skilled water caster in my family.
            But the Confederate soldiers invaded our home and took Nahlia.
            I tracked them to their base, and when I walked into where they held her, they were torturing her.  They had her in a cage like an animal, and they were screaming at her to teach them how to caste.
            Nahlia held fast, curled up in the corner of the tiny cage, whispering a spell to herself. I snuck up behind the soldiers and slit both of their throats.
            I stepped over their bodies and unlocked Nahlia’s cage. We embraced, but before we could escape, one of the captains burst into the tent and shot her. Everything suddenly seemed to move in slow motion. The shell from the musket ripped through her chest, almost tearing her in half. I ran to catch her and she fell without a sound, a look of shock on her young face. I can’t tell you how long I cried after that.
            When I returned home, Nahlia’s mother took me into her arms and thanked me for trying to save her by giving me an amulet that had been in her family for generations.
            She hugged me tight and whispered in my ear in the Ancient language. “Taryn Elizabeth,”she began, using my full name. I twitched a little bit. No one but my mother ever used my full name. “Nagaiita myanatiato.” I was fluent in the Ancient words, thanks to Linh and  Nahlia, but even I didn’t know what the hell that meant. Linh pulled away and smiled a big toothy grin at me. “If you ever get into a spot of trouble, just chant those words. This amulet will help you.”
            And then, the old woman died. She gave me one last smile and collapsed. Her heart had failed.
            I carried the small woman out to the garden and dug a deep grave, and went and picked a full bouquet of wildflowers and roses to put on top. I slept outside that night. When Mother found me the next morning, I had been changed.
            A local Vampyre found me in the middle of the night and I guess they figured, what the hell?
            Mother tried to accept who I was, but soon after I had started to show signs, like the light sensitivity, and my deep violet eyes, she banished me from our home with tears in her eyes. I guess she was afraid.
                                                           
That was when I died.

THROW THE CHEEEEEEEEEEEESE!

I haven't blogged in Gods knows how long, So I'm just going to say whatever pops into my head, literally.
Potato!
Llama!
I will say this, I might make a lot of ASDF movie references, as I have recently become acquainted with TomSka on YouTube, the man is the definition of random.

By the way, my name is Lilah. =^.^=
I'm sitting behind my brother and his friend watching them play COD whilst I myself multitask with The Walking Dead on my laptop, FF12 on the PS2 and blogging. 
Oh! I recently began trying to write a novel, I'll post the prologue on here and I'd appreciate comments.

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 I feel like a bag of smashed assholes. I'm going to bed.
Good night and welcome to my den of random! 
Bonne Nuit!