All Rights Reserved ©


This was the first and only time I was going to speak in the first person, and I do that by rubbing ointment on my tattooed-sleeved arms, with faces of angels and demons laughing and mocking each other, and mocking my very own facial expressions of all kinds, mixed with emotions, of all kinds.

Ђere were a lot of things on my mind, and a lot of bible scriptures plaguing my brain.

I didn’t know what to do with myself sometimes, and often times I love running through every forest on God’s green earth, chasing animals and killing them at will, and feeding on organisms of all kinds, they contain rich minerals the world doesn’t know of, because the organisms I eat haven’t been discovered by man, and never will be discovered by them either, so I’ll let white men run around thinking they know all, and know of all. Trust me, they don’t know of all organisms.

But I do.

Feeding from animals was a delight I never pass up, it’s much easier than chasing down frightened humans when they meet the Grim Reaper of my soul, if I have a soul, tasting their flesh, smacking from the taste, some tastes ye had to acquire, like an illiterate, dyslexic virgin eating olives for the first time. Not all blood of a human is worth drinking, in fact I’ve drank so much disease infested blood I switched to eating animals to curve the thirst I have for mortals.

§ome frown at the taste, others try another one and eat and eat and eat until their taste buds build familiarity in their mental frame of mind, and suddenly can’t live without them, or anchovies…

Ђere’s no unknown force to stop me from turning every rain forest into my own personal buffet of terror, I can pick and choose at will, and to my liking! How amazing was that?

Ђere was one rain forest in particular that tickled every fancy I’ve ever had, and centuries later I remember this village, the Village of Opus, and the one they called Ķlěőpĥǻ Achieng, the gifted one, the chosen one, the one I never forgot, even when I left the Village, and the rain forest at large, and the controlling government of that time, my thoughts were on her, and of her. §he was altogether different from everyone else, she had a unique quality about her that was destined for something bigger than the village that confined her to the limitations of its inner parameters, a village that lied to her, and mislead her. Ђe villagers hated her in the shadows because, if it wasn’t for Ķlěőpĥǻ’s birth, her mother, a legendary champion of the village, as strong as an ox, and as stern as the Σlders, would still be with them.

Ђe girl born in accordance to the sun, and born of the forest, the girl an entire Village deemed a gift from their gods, of all kinds, both printed and unprinted, and unspoken, indeed served an agenda…

Villagers betrayed her in the end, before the village was burned to the ground by supernatural forces, wiping them off the face of the planet.

Ķlěőpĥǻ was a beautiful girl that changed me and inspired me to change the way I use my thoughts, a girl that went against the rules, all the way to her death. Her soul was a powerful entity, and I didn’t think she realized just how powerful her ghost was.

Anyhow. Authority itself, and their bullets, Tasers, lasers and guns do nothing for me, and they most certainly can’t stop me.

I was the vampire, the extraordinary vampire that walked through the Civil war catching every bullet that careened past me, bullets from the smoky chambers of rifles

While Abraham Lincoln, President of the bloody United §tates, tried to save the Union with his dangerous men, and not the slaves, mind ye, let’s clear that up right this instant, though he was an amazing leader, if not one of the most successful leaders of earth’s existence, I dropped shells (bullets) next to dead mortals as I feast, my calling card of sorts.

Ђere’s no needeth to leave all that precious food lying about for vultures.

Why should they have all the white and dark meat? I’ll leave the dark meat for them to devour, because I love feasting on Angle §axons.

Ђat was until I, my gorgeously handsome face of alabaster and shiny porcelain covered with blood, naked to the human eye, happened to see a soaring bald eagle high above the war, the blood, the fallen warriors and the gun smoke, and it was then I wished to taste the blood of life, to feast on something that was alive, and not dead, to distinctly separate the two tastes, the taste of death in the blood after they art dead, versus the way the blood of life taste while they art breathing, and I must say...

Ђe latter appealed more to my senses.

§narling, I rose in the air, amidst a plethora of bloodshed, and snatched the eagle into my hands, snapping off its wings and dropping them, and ripping open its head and drinking of its rich interior while levitating 7,000 feet in the air.

Ђe rush I experienced changed my life forever, and for the better. My face reconstructed itself into a caramel color, my body of black granite, intricate etchings zigzagging along either side of my face, an art form in itself, enshrouded in color, of all kinds, before limitations and boundaries were set on me, splitting me into 144,000 forms of polarization, my own image played back into my eyes through the eyes of 144,000, and then limitation and color and yielding of color were transposed on them, individually, and as a group…

Ђe way the clouds unfolded the sky transformed me into a Beast of my own accord, and of my own thoughts, and of my own design. I remember levitating, staring at the head of the eagle, dead eyes sunken into it.

I felt nothing for its death. I felt nothing for the kill. I let the body of the eagle, and the head of the thing plummet towards the sea of bodies lying below, and then I looked to the moon and saw a brief image of a rainbow, and it made me shudder because I didn’t know what it was.

Being a young 13 year old vampire during the civil war was no easy task, with animals always there to greet me and support me, before I became what I was.

But once the animals turned on me, after smelling the blood of the eagle on my skin, and oozing from me, I have been indifferent ever since, and lived a long time feeling this way, with no desire to change.

Ђe blood of the eagle gave me unlimited power, to my surprise, and the power to do only one thing, and that was the power to reincarnate myself, just once, and I decided to do that with a slave in the §outh, during the early 1920’s, a feeble-minded man separated from his wife and two children, a man that was raped by his Caucasian masters when he punched his “Owner” for inappropriately touching his wife in front of his children, four lads, dirty, filthy, that cried, clinging to their mother as they were haggardly stripped away by the “masters.”

I can remember the brutal image, the sad, but factual event that changed the course of his life, and the life of his family, and the lives of the rapists, and inevitably…my life.

Before his Master could climax, evilly thrusting his member inside the slave, I remember jumping into the slave’s body and taking it over and killing 3 of the 4 men before they could scream, sparing the one that raped me, and wanted to go last as well, come back for seconds was his untold intention...

I tortured him, slowly. And the friends of the masters, that abused the kids and the women of the slaves, were all inside, and they met a horrifying fate. Ђe instant I took over the slave’s body, filled with color, of all kinds, I began to feel the effects. His arteries and veins and membrane shackled me, yet his T4 cells were in conflict of my existence, since I wasn’t born of the body I inhabited, but they weren’t powerful enough to kill me off.

My glowing soul taking away the pain of rape, the blood spilt from his anus suddenly snaked back inside him as he slowly rose in the air, and his bones broke him down, a thunderous cracking sound that caused the Master I left alive to run, in a screaming panic, from the plantation, but before he could escape I scowled, and all the doors locked, and a force field enveloped the house, trapping him inside, and all hell broke loose.

I was so blood-thirsty I took a look at my wife and kids, now that I was in his body, and they were my possessions, and freed them into the north, giving them an identity, no longer considered property, and then I abandoned them for a greater purpose. I abandoned them because, as long as they were around me I was going to have thoughts of murdering them all, and I couldn’t live with myself if I did this to them.

My purpose hath yet to come to pass. As his body grew older and tired over the next few decades, despite my soul being in it, I knew something had to change, since the 70s were about to close, and he was about 80 years old.

I was tired of using his body to be a serial killer, killing every participant of the holocaust that I could, surviving tyrants, and killing over 78 moneyed men that invested in the slave trade, or had a huge part in it (huge investors), an event that changed the course of the world forever, and an event that still hath a sour taste in many darkened ones’ mouths, and I can’t say that I blame them.

Σven though animals have attacked me for decades, because of the brutal way I killed the bald eagle, and drank its blood, its extinct and distinct blood on my hands, I had the sense and the agility of a bald eagle, even flying like one as my arms explode into an array of feathers, earth-toned and silky looking to the eyes, soft to the touch, and I didn’t use my wings that often because I can fly without them.

But one thing about rainbows scared me, and caused me to be obedient. Ђe day I basked in a rainbow’s glory, was the day my life changed forever.

Continue Reading Next Chapter

About Us

Inkitt is the world’s first reader-powered book publisher, offering an online community for talented authors and book lovers. Write captivating stories, read enchanting novels, and we’ll publish the books you love the most based on crowd wisdom.