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The Prophecy

By katwomen021 All Rights Reserved ©

Horror / Fantasy

The Beginning

My name is Trinity.

It was said that my mother gave me that name because it would bring me luck. That good things would always come to me and that – in the end – I would have it all. When I heard that, I would just freeze. But it wasn’t my parents who told me these things. They both died shortly after I was born. No, it was a nun in a monastery that raised me before I was adopted.

Sister Rose (I called her Mother Rose) was a kind and thoughtful sister. She took the time to be with me when I had problems or when my heart was hurting. I used to think she shouldn’t have been a nun; there just were several things about her that didn’t add up. She had a wild streak in her. Many times, I saw her outside of the monastery wearing street clothes. It was years before she knew that I knew she had blonde hair. It was long and wavy and beautiful.

There were days that I noticed that she looked weak and sick and she would leave the monastery looking frail, but come back looking beautiful once again, like maybe she spent the whole time she was gone eating and resting. But she would only be gone for a couple hours. I always thought she was out meeting a man and getting her fill before communion.

 Regardless of how long she was gone, she was always there when I woke up and still there when I laid my head down to sleep, reading fairytale novels. Even though it was against the rules of the monastery to read anything except what was holy. I guess she wanted me to experience things other than what God had to offer. 

When I was old enough, she sat me down and told me about the horrible accident that took my parents life and landed me in that monastery. Most of the time, I never wanted to listen, because really there was nothing I could do about it and every time I heard it, it was like a dream that I couldn’t wake up from. But she made sure that I was listening and she struck me with a ruler if my attention trailed off.

Sister Rose told me that it was a cold and rainy night when my parents were driving home from a business party. My dad had only a couple of glasses of wine and my mother, maybe just one. They left after about midnight and were driving down Broadway Road when the street turned to an ‘S’ and their brakes suddenly went out. She said they took that turn too quickly and the vehicle rolled I don’t remember how many times. She spared me the sickening details of what the coroner’s office said. But I got the point just the same.

She didn’t describe what my parents looked like, even though I must have asked on a daily basis. Come on. What child doesn’t want to know if they look like their mother or father? All she would say was that I was a perfect mix of both. And that both my mother and father were very important people and it was that importance that took their lives.

See it was that statement that would always leave me feeling confused because how can importance kill my parents when it was brake failure? It made me think that maybe my parents were in the mob and they had a hit out on them, or maybe they were spies and their target got to them first? I miss her. Mother Rose I mean. When I left the monastery, I never heard from her again. I always wondered whatever became of her. 

On all accounts I was raised well. I was adopted by a wealthy couple that had the bad luck of not being able to conceive naturally. I asked my mother once why she picked me and she smiled and said it wasn’t even a choice: that I ran up to them and never let go. They gave me all the love and all the possessions I could ever want or ever need. We even took trips every winter and summer break to new places every time. My parents wanted me to know the world, not just know about it from books.

But no matter how much I knew I was loved, I always felt different, like I didn’t belong. Not from the lack of love or the lack of attention and it wasn’t just being in a family I wasn’t born into. It was being in this world that I felt that way. I felt like tumbleweed blowing in the breeze, not being noticed. I felt like I could have been blowing down a freeway and cars wouldn’t even stop to help me.

I remember being at the park, staring at the adults and their children playing and having fun. I would notice what child looked like what parent and I’d understand that I didn’t have that: the same-shaped eyes or the same crooked smile. Their laughter would harmonize with each other’s and painfully I knew that mine would never do that.

But besides all that, I guess you could say that I was pretty lucky in the beginning of that life, just as my natural mother had predicted. I still know people who have spent their whole lives in that monastery. They never found a family. But I did and very quickly too. And although I wasn’t anybody very important, as my parents were, but maybe I was only important to those that I was once close too. I still had a good life then.

I became a wife to a wonderful and successful man who took my breath away every moment he had, and the mother of a very smart and talented young girl who would surprise me at every turn. I had my daughter when I was just sixteen and not by accident. Believe it or not she was planned and I got married when I was twenty-one. I loved my family and all the things you do as a wife and mother.

I always said when I had kids I would never abandon them as I felt I was when I was a child. And maybe that statement is too harsh because maybe it wasn’t their fault I was alone but they were taken from me. Even as an adult it still makes me mad. I always wanted to be around to do things with my children. Maybe that’s why I started my family at such a young age or maybe I just wanted to get out of my everyday routine of going to school and working. Neither of those ever sat well with me. I enjoyed waking up every morning in the arms of my husband and my daughter’s laughter coming from the other room. I loved the PTA, the field trips, my husband’s business parties, and getting together with our neighbors. And although it seemed stressful at times, I did love the hectic lifestyle that a loving wife and mother endures. 

In that life, I was very tall, about five nine, and though I wasn’t very skinny, I held my weight well. After having a child, it was hard to get my figure back and honestly, I had my husband so I really didn’t care. I had long, brown, stringy hair, a nice tan from going to tanning beds and even from the years of no sleep I still looked too young to be a wife and a mother. I think I was the youngest mother at my daughter’s school.

 

My daughter was a reflection of my husband’s younger years, which made me happy to look at her everyday. She was tall for her age and towered over the other kids in her class. She had long blonde thick hair, and beautiful big blue eyes. She was very talented in everything she did. She loved to draw and she was very book smart. And my husband Michael, it hurts me to this day to talk about him but I guess I have too, he was tall and muscular, with smoothblonde thick hair. He could be all business when he needed to be. Then when he was home, he would kick back and relaxed. He was a kind and giving person, he would give the shirt off his back if somebody needed it, which is probably one of the reasons I loved him so much.

No matter how bad things got or how wonderful things were, he would bring me flowers. Even if the sky was grey that day. It was his way of showing me that he was thinking of me every day. He couldn’t even go one hour without calling me from work to make sure things were okay. And every year, on Bring Your Daughter To Work Day, Sierra was right next to him. He never raised his voice at Sierra or me and we never went to bed angry. That was one of his firmest rules. A couple of times we stayed up until the sun rose, talking, because we were so angry at each other. But the rule was there for a reason and we abided by it.

I guess you could say we had the perfect life. I guess you could say we were even envied by our neighbors. And I guess you could say I wouldn’t have wanted to change my life for anything in the world.

When my life ended, I had just turned twenty-five.

It all started on a rainy night in February in a small town outside of Phoenix, Arizona. Man, I hated living in Arizona; the summers were so hot and dry. But it was my home. It rarely rained in Arizona so when it did, you could smell it and it would fill your house with its cologne. Those were the kind of days you wanted to sit in the corner, curled up with a book and a blanket and stay there for hours just listening to the sound the drops made when they hit the ground.

On rainy days, I would sometimes pull Sierra out of school and we would go play in the rain all day. We would come up with different games to play and wait to see who would get soaked first, because that would be the one who would lose. But on this night, my daughter had just eaten dinner and was upstairs watching a movie in her play room. Michael was in bed with the stomach flu and asked me to get him a few things from the store. I told him that I’d leave Sierra with him when I went. She liked to stop in every aisle and ask me to buy the first thing she saw.

I didn’t mind doing things for Michael when he was sick. It made me feel good to know he could count on me and I could count on him. Besides, he was always going places for me and this was always a way for me to repay him. The store was only a couple minutes down the road and I loved driving in the rain.

When I got to the marketplace, it was unusually crowded for a Friday night. I had to fight my way through the aisles, each one loaded with about five carts back to back. But thank God I was able to find Michael’s medicine. And since I had to walk slowly down the aisles because of all the people there, I was even able to find a coloring book for Sierra. I knew it would be something she liked. It was of rainbows and unicorns with little fairies on every page.

 When I got up to the self-service checkout counter, I stood in line impatiently waiting. Finally it was my turn and I placed my two things on the counter. As I scanned in my first item, I overheard a man asking the assistant if she had a discount card that he could use as he forgot his. She denied him of course. She even gave him a snotty look just to show she could.

 The man didn’t say another word about it. I scanned in the coloring book, smiling as I thought how happy Sierra would be when I gave it to her. Suddenly I felt a tap on my shoulder and heard the man’s voice. When I looked over my shoulder, I noticed there were two men instead of the one.

The man’s voice was deep and old-sounding. He was very short and heavy set, an older man with graying hair. He had no wrinkles under his eyes and in fact he had no wrinkles at all. He had a mustache and long beard that reached his belly and it was also gray and wiry. But what I took more notice to was the color of his skin. He was white, almost porcelain. We lived in Arizona, where days are filled with almost nothing but sun. How could he be so white?

He looked like a man out of the 1920s. I found it hard not to laugh. I wanted to remind him what century we were in and that it was okay for older men to dress accordingly. He had a gray top hat that looked like it could be the twin to Abraham Lincoln’s, a white button down shirt and black dress pants. Both looked freshly pressed. He wore a long black leather coat and black boots; I could smell the leather even from where I was standing. I felt a chill go down my spine when I saw him.

The other man – or maybe I should say he was a boy considering he looked younger than I was but not by much, maybe in his early twenties – he was very tall, taller than me, maybe six foot one or two. He looked thin, but it was hard to tell, judging from what he was wearing. His skin was also a shade whiter than normal, which, again, in Arizona was quite odd, considering three hundred and twenty days out of the year it is sunny there.

His top hat almost matched his outfit but it was black with a dark blue ribbon wrapped around the bottom with a Queen of Hearts playing card sticking out from it. The card wasn’t from a normal deck; the numbers where blue. He wore a black button down shirt with a pair of blue jeans so clean you could still see the crease in them, a long black leather jacket and black boots. There was something different about this man, something that only a glance could give away. He wasn’t like his companion; his eyes were kinder. I didn’t want to make it known that I was staring, so I quickly looked down.

I reached in my purse, grabbed my card, and handed it to the older gentlemen. I was hoping he didn’t notice my hand shaking when I gave it to him. I felt fear in my heart when he looked at me. I couldn’t shake it off, but I went on with my business just the same. I bagged my two items, took my receipt and left. The parking lot was slowly emptying and it made me wonder how long I had been in there. The rain had stopped, but the puddles remained, and you could smell the moisture in the clouds. 

When I walked up to my truck, water was still dripping from the rain. I noticed the two men, walking to their car, which was parked right in front of mine, never taking their eyes off me. I slowly got inside and placed my bag on the passenger seat. They got into their car, almost imitating my moves. The younger man was in the driver’s seat. It took me a couple of times to put the key into the starter because I wanted to watch what they were doing. They just sat there, not talking, not moving, and just staring.

As the two men backed out of the parking space, they kept going in reverse. I don’t even think they looked behind them. I backed out and drove to the east exit. When I reached Main Street, I saw them speed through the parking lot to come up behind me. I should have realized then that something was wrong, but this was a small town and nothing bad really happened here. So why would I think that a strange driver was anything but strange?

I think the worst thing that ever happened to us in the San Tan Valley happened about two months ago.The local High School football team was arrested for hazing their rival high school team. The boys decided it was time to get back at the others for spray painting their main locker room. So for their revenge, they got a dozen sheep to wear the team’s football jerseys, and then let them loose to run around the entire school. On purpose, they left out one numbered jersey. By the next morning, the authorities had captured the sheep, but because there was a missing number, they spent the whole day looking for the one that seemed to be missing. They closed the school that day. It made all the headlines and news broadcast stations and was a big laugh around town. 

But since we had a near zero crime rate in my town, I just figured I would be all right if I drove the whole three minutes home. Maybe I should have been more on my game that night. Michael always told me to watch for anything strange. If I did see something, he said to not go home but to call the police even for the stupidest things. When I think about it now, I wish I had just driven the opposite way home or just kept driving until I ran out of gas. Then maybe none of this would have happened. But everybody thinks of those kinds of things after the fact.

You know what I’m talking about. Like when you’re in a heated argument and you think you have said everything you can and you thought that you’ve made your point very clear, so you walk away. But then, as you’re walking, your mind starts to wonder, and you think of all the things that you could have said that would have been better or would have dug the wound a little deeper in the other person. But now it’s too late. It’s the same thing: shoulda, woulda, coulda…

When I got home everything seemed normal. Sierra was still watching The Little Mermaid. She was lying on her stomach, with one foot twisted around the other, and Michael was still in bed. Poor thing. He looked like he was doing better, but I knew he was hurting inside and just needed the time to sleep. I gave him some medicine, kissed his forehead and closed the door behind me. I didn’t want to get whatever he had so I decided to just go sleep on the couch.

I walked into the loft and told Sierra that it was time for bed. She didn’t argue, she rarely did. She just got up, turned the TV off, and walked into her room. I tucked her in, kissed her goodnight and went downstairs to lie on the couch, exhausted from my day. It was another moment I wish I could change: I wish I had stayed longer with her, maybe read her a book. I didn’t care the house needed to be cleaned or the dishes needed to be done. I just wanted to sleep my day away. I fell asleep quickly, a dreamless sleep. It was what I awoke to that I will never forget.

The first thing I heard was glass crashing upstairs. I opened my eyes suddenly. I was a little disoriented from being pried from my sleep. I thought maybe Sierra broke something in her room. If she had a nightmare and she rolled over, she would sometimes knock the cup off of her nightstand. So I would sometimes move it away from the edge. But she would always move it closer again.

I didn’t think that noise was anything to be scared of or panic over, so I got off the couch slowly. The house was dark and I could hear the minutes clicking in the clock on the wall. I didn’t hear Sierra cleaning up the mess or Michael coming to investigate. Just silence. 

I stumbled up the stairs slowly, holding on to the railing to keep my balance. I looked down at the stairs and started counting them as I climbed each one. But a sudden scream pierced my consciousness. It was Sierra. That scream is the panic in a heartbeat that any parent dreads. I started to run frantically to her bedroom. When I reached the top step, the screams went silent and my heart, beating so fast, fell to the bottom of my stomach. Michael was already out of bed with the hall light on and a bat in his hand. His hair was a mess from sleeping. He only wore his black pajama pants. “What’s going on Trinity?” He said nervously.

“I don’t know?” I mumbled under my breath.

Together we ran into Sierra’s bedroom and saw her lying in bed. We looked at each other with dread in our eyes and then looked back to her. We walked to her side. I thought she would sit up when she heard our footsteps, but she didn’t move. I called out her name but got nothing in return. As we got closer, we noticed her blonde hair was covering her face. It was stained in deep red blood.

My hands shook and tears were already running down my face. I bent down and pulled back her hair, and that’s when I saw her neck. She was covered in blood. All of the skin on her neck was gone. It looked like it was torn off by an animal. I started to scream. As best I could, I picked her up and held her in my arms, demanding that she say something. I rocked her back and forth, cradling her like she was still a baby, but she wouldn’t wake up, she wouldn’t move. I don’t think the images of those moments will ever leave me.

With all the horror I was witnessing, I tried to think what could have caused something so vicious, something so senseless, but my motionless daughter blocked any reasonable thoughts that might form in my mind. In an attempt to try and save Sierra, I put my hand over her neck wound to try and stop the bleeding. But I couldn’t feel a heart beat to save. The bleeding had stopped and all that was left was her in my arms. It’s a known fact that a child is supposed to out live their parent. And who would want to kill such a beautiful and innocent child? 

The lights in the room and in the hallway suddenly went out. Both Michael and I were frightened in the darkness, wondering what was going on. Michael was failing at trying not to show how scared he was. He came to me, grabbed my arm and tried to lead me out of the room. His hands where cold and shaking worse than mine. I didn’t want to let go of my baby girl though. I yelled out no but he was firm and told me we had to hide.

When we reached the hallway we stopped before continuing down the stairs. That’s when we saw shadows moving from side to side, slowly at first then faster and faster. I don’t know why, because every part in my body told me to go the other direction, but we started walking towards it, even though we couldn’t see anything clearly. I felt my body start to tremble with terror and I held Michael’s arm tighter. We slowly walked down the stairs. I still couldn’t see anything. I relied on Michael to safely guide me, but I was still tumbling over my own feet.

Michael was shaking as bad as I was. You know, guys can sit there and tell you how strong they are and how hard they can fight. Until they are in that situation. I always thought of Michael as a lion, strong and fierce. Nobody could upset him, until that night. The night he saw his daughter lying there, not moving, not talking, feeling blinded by the unknown. He tried to be strong for me but you can’t fight what you can’t see.

Suddenly we heard a man’s deep voice break the silence. “We only want you.”

The words stopped both of us in our tracks. It’s funny how the simplest words can make your life flash before your eyes. We both looked at each other, wondering which one of us he meant. I wondered if Michael had wronged somebody and I knew that he was thinking the same thing about me.

When we finally reached the bottom of the stairs, something struck Michael in the face with a hard blow and I saw the shadow of his body fly across the room and hit the wall with a thud. I stood there trembling, holding onto the banister with everything I had inside of me. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know if I should run or not. I couldn’t see anything or anybody. Then from deep within the room I heard the mysterious man’s voice yet again.

“Awe, Trinity, it’s been a long time,” he said almost sincerely.

I was surprised that even through the darkness I could see his eyes. They were glowing a light shade of blue. As I tried to speak, my words came out weak and confused. “W-who are you? What do you want?”

“We want you,” he said again.

My tears were blinding me from what little I could see, except his mysterious eyes, and my thoughts were only of my child, the child I had just lost. I put my hand over my mouth to cover my cries and shook my head, No, not knowing if he could see me as clearly as I could see his eyes.

“We’ve waited a long time to get to you,” he said, with what seemed like laughter in his voice. “What has it been? Twenty-five years now?”

My world, which always seemed to stand still with peace, was now spinning and I was losing the ability to breathe. My legs felt like boulders, too heavy to move but too strong to break. I then felt an arm wrap around my neck. It took me by surprise because now I knew there were two men in the room with me, not just one like I had thought. I was wrenched in a powerful grip and the hold was more than I could bear. His arms felt like cold rocks against my neck. But with as little comfort as it gave me, at least I could see over the man’s arm. He led me closer to the vicious man who was talking. I put my hands on his arm to try and get it off me but it felt like steel that I couldn’t move and it was cold to the touch.

“It would be easier if you didn’t fight this, my dear,” the man across the room said. He paused for a moment. “You’re a hard woman to find, Trinity.”

I tried to fight back the flowing tears. I wanted to at least look like I was strong but it was hard to hide my fear because my legs were shaking. I looked over at my husband lying on the ground; his arms and legs were spread out. I was hoping he was just unconscious. I prayed for him to wake up, to help me get out of this horrible mess. But with every breath I took, and every tear that ran down my face, he wouldn’t move.

“Pleeeaasse! What do you want!?” I asked, my tears falling even faster.

The man walked slowly into what little light there was and as his appearance became known, I recognized the little overweight man from the market who had asked me for my discount card. He looked down at his hand, studying his white fingers. His nails were long and sharp. My heart started to beat faster as his figure slowly emerged from the shadows. I tried to think of ways to escape from the grip that held me so tight. But everything I tried proved to be useless.

As he got closer, I looked into his eyes. They were cold and showed no emotion. When he smiled, his teeth were bright white and seemed to drip with saliva. It was sickening to watch him drool like he did.

“We want you, Trinity. You see we can’t let you leave. Well not alive anyway.” He blurted out a laugh that seemed to carry throughout my house. “Oh I’m sorry. I’m such a bad host that I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Gerviase, and the one behind you is Alexander.” He pointed with his long finger.

Gerviase took his top hat off and bowed to me as if to intimidate me. “You see Trinity, you are a very important woman in our world.” Except for the fact that he was trying to kill me, I could have listened to him talk for hours. His voice was charming and when he spoke his words seemed to come from a different time. His accent was hypnotic.

“What are you talking about?” I asked through my tears.

He spoke the words very low and tender. “The vampire world,” he said. My eyes widened. Was this a joke? He continued, his voice getting louder. “Didn’t think we existed, did you? Well I can assure you. We do, my dear. You see Trinity, you have been talked about for centuries. Kind of like a bed time story for children.”

  I was confused. Vampires? That couldn’t be true. Vampires were for horror and bad romantic movies. How could he expect me to believe that he was a vampire? True or false, I didn’t care what his story was. I wanted them out of my house. And I wanted to kill them for what they did to my daughter.

He moved closer to me slowly, gliding almost. There was a grace in the way he walked, the way his body moved. It was almost like a waltz. One arm was folded and the other hand was rubbing his jaw. I saw the color of his cold eyes even more clearly. They were a light shade of crystal blue, almost a dead shade of blue, and they seemed to glow when the moon hit them just right.

He kept talking. “Which makes me sorry to have to do this…”

It seemed like I blinked and then he was right in front of me. My heart seemed to stop and I braced my body for whatever he was going to do. He tilted my head and whispered in my ear, “This won’t hurt … much.” I was ready for it. Kill me now, I thought to myself. I didn’t want to exist without my daughter. But make it quick, I thought. I didn’t want to feel any pain. I closed my eyes and waited for my walk to Heaven. But before he could do what I could only imagine a vampire to do, I felt the cold lips of someone else, from someone behind me. I could feel icy cold teeth on my neck. Then I heard the strange sound it made when his teeth broke through my skin. It sounded like biting down on a potato chip.

I felt my blood draining frommy body and I started to shake. I felt like I was losing control of my body and my senses. I couldn’t do anything but allow this man to confine me and continue to drink. The room began to spin, I couldn’t feel my legs and I lost my thoughts. Everything started to blur and my surroundings began to turn black. But before I lost all consciousness, suddenly and without cause, he stopped and let me go. I fell to the ground with a hard thump, landing on my side. I put my hands to the ground and lifted my head up. Then I heard a loud crash from behind me. I tried to focus my eyes and after a second or two I looked around and saw that Michael had woken up and come back to be my hero.

He had smashed a chair on Gerviase’s back. The chair was broken to pieces at Gerviase’s feet, and though it didn’t faze him much, it still made him turn to see what was happening. Everything was still foggy to me. I wanted to jump to my feet and help my husband, but the blood loss had left me cold and weak. Gerviase jumped to where my husband stood, and Alexander stepped over me to hold my husband’s arms back.

I heard Michael’s low and straining voice say. “Run, Trinity. RUN!” I didn’t want to run; I wanted to die with him. I wanted to stay by his side and walk the cloudy path to Heaven, holding his hand. How could he expect me to just run? As he grew weaker he muttered, “I love you.”

I was sure I was going to die anyway, so I managed to do the one thing I would later regret. I got up, stumbling, and ran like my husband told me too. I ran as fast as I could. I didn’t even look behind me to see what would happen to my Michael.

~ And that was the end of my human life ~


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