The Abyss
After a typical rampage in London’s East End, vampires Christian and Michel returned home to bed down for the day. Grieving over the loss of his beloved mortal lover, Christian had continued his rampage, unable to stop himself. Leaving Paris for London had done nothing but fuel the flames of his anger and self-hatred. Why had he left Josette behind to die?
Christian slid into his coffin, exhausted as the death-like sleep descended, just as he had every morning since 1757, when as a young man of twenty, he and Michel had been turned by the seductive and beautiful Gabrielle.
A clanging sound pierced his thoughts as he fought sleep.
It was the sound of chains.
“Michel!” He screamed banging on the coffin lid as he heard the rattle of heavy chains sealing him inside. “What are you doing?”
Oh, my god, he is locking me in. He clawed at the lid tearing fingernails until blood ran down his arms, screaming Michel’s name, begging Michel to release him.
“I love you my friend.” Michel’s explained, his voice echoing in Christian’s head.
“I want you to live but not like the animal you have become. You have gone mad over her.”
Christian knew he had lost all humanity after Josette’s death. He indiscriminately killed mortals; young and old, man and woman, until the act of killing could no longer sate him. There was no cure and perhaps Michel was right and he had gone mad with grief. He tried to rationalize with Michel, begging him to set him free, but the death- like sleep took him just as it had done every night, only this time he would awake in darkness, a prisoner at the mercy of his best friend.
Michel would come to him every night and talk, perched atop his coffin, reporting everything happening in London or with the French vampires back in Paris.
As time passed, Christian no longer felt his body. It was as if only his mind existed. How long could he stay trapped in here and not shrivel up in the darkness?
Eventually he stopped asking Michel how long he had been imprisoned. It was no use as Michel would never answer him. If he asked when he might be freed, Michel would simply say, soon. He lost all feeling, all hunger. It was as if he were a thought, a mind floating in time and space with no beginning or end. There was only nothingness and it had embraced him like the darkness.
Then one night Michel did not come. Christian called out to him in his thoughts, begging him to come back, hoping that to reach him through their blood connection, but there was no answer. It was like Michel had disappeared. He tried not to panic believing Michel would return and all would be well. Michel had always been there. Ever since they were children in Meudon France they had been inseparable. Nothing would change.
Suppose Michel is dead. I will rot here.
When the silence became unbearable, he thought about Josette. He had refused to turn her though she had begged for what she called his dark gift. Some gift, he thought, it has brought me nothing but pain and despair. She had begged and he had said no, over and over again, and now she was gone, dead; taken from him forever. Why had he been so stubborn, so selfish? Why could he not bring them happiness? Josette would get eternal life and he would get Josette. He had no answers, just as he had nothing now. No Josette, no Michel, no freedom.
He had heard about vampires being imprisoned; bloodsuckers who had gone mad with blood lust. Vampires who had lost all reason and became a threat to their kind. Gabrielle had told both he and Michel stories of vampires imprisoned for centuries. Upon their release they were either healed of their cravings or destroyed. Would Michel have the courage to destroy him if he could not keep his pain and anger under control?
He slept and dreamt and time passed in the darkness, how much time he did not know. There was nothing.
Then one night he heard a sound as if someone were whimpering. He thought it was another dream and then he smelled her….human flesh and blood. Blood moving through veins and pounding in his ears. A mortal was close by. Then the clamoring of chains rolling off his coffin deafened him. When the lid opened he tried to focus and suddenly Michel’s face was there. Christian tried to speak, but no sound came out. Strong arms lifted him gently as Michel cradled his best friend and laid him on the dirt floor.
“I have brought you a present.” Michel whispered, sitting beside him. Christian tried to focus in the half-light. He glanced down at his hands and his skin looked like translucent parchment paper barely covering his bones. His clothes must have rotted away. God, how much time has passed?
His attention turned to the mortal girl, whimpering, not babbling, or screaming, just whimpering. Michel jumped up and dragged her towards him in the darkness. She had dark hair and her low-cut dress was stained with mud and food scraps. Christian assumed she was a prostitute.
“Sit down here my little one.” Michel whispered into her ear, pushing her down onto the floor next to Christian.
“Don’t worry my friend she has no idea where she is.”
Suddenly, a silver dagger appeared as Michel cut his own arm, just inside his wrist. Christian watched the dark blood pool up on his pale skin. He leaned over Christian pushing his bleeding arm towards his face. Christian tried to move his jaw to no avail. It had been so long. Michel sucked his own blood then gently brushed his blood soaked lips onto Christian’s mouth.
He gasped then latched onto Michel like a newborn baby at its’ mothers’ breast. He felt Michel tremble as he took his blood.
God, how I have missed you Michel, Christian thought, as Michel’s warm blood ran down his throat, feeling his mind come alive once more as every muscle, ligament and tendon began to expand. At first he felt as if he would be sick, and pulled away, but it passed and then he felt ravenous, needing more blood.
“Come Christian, take her,” Michel commanded, grabbing the girl. Michel brushed her hair back from her face with his long white fingers. The girl lay limpid in Michel’s arms, staring blankly at Christian.
Michel exposed her pale neck while Christian sat staring back at her, unable to speak or move. Michel waved the dagger and quickly punctured her white throat making two small marks in her dirty skin. Her eyes grew larger as blood flowed down her dress, but she barely moved.
“Take her my friend,” Michel whispered as he held her against him. With difficulty, Christian was able to get onto his knees. He tried to move, which was painful at first. His bones felt as though they would crumble but her fluttering heartbeat called to him and he slowly moved towards her.
Suddenly she screamed and tried to wiggle away then Christian fell upon her. She struggled until he buried his teeth in her neck. She stopped squirming as he drank and her life-force ebbed as he filled himself up. She went limp under him as he drank and drank.
The pounding of her heart in his head was his signal to release her but he could not stop. He continued until her body went cold in his arms. He laid her down gently on the dirt floor and rolled over, trying to sit up.
Michel smiled, brushing Christians’ hair out of his face. His once wavy hair now hung down his back like a blond cape.
“Forgive me, mon ami. It was the only way to save you.”
“How long Michel?” Christian croaked, startled at the sound of his own words.
“Fifty years, Michel confessed. “It is the year of our Lord, 1841, and believe me, London is not the same place you remember.”
Christian sighed, not trusting himself to stand up just yet.
Michel hugged him again, “I can bring you others if you would like.”
“I think you better bring me some clothes first,” Christian asked, noticing Michel’s clothing for the first time. “What are you wearing?”
"Welcome back my friend.”
Christian slid into his coffin, exhausted as the death-like sleep descended, just as he had every morning since 1757, when as a young man of twenty, he and Michel had been turned by the seductive and beautiful Gabrielle.
A clanging sound pierced his thoughts as he fought sleep.
It was the sound of chains.
“Michel!” He screamed banging on the coffin lid as he heard the rattle of heavy chains sealing him inside. “What are you doing?”
Oh, my god, he is locking me in. He clawed at the lid tearing fingernails until blood ran down his arms, screaming Michel’s name, begging Michel to release him.
“I love you my friend.” Michel’s explained, his voice echoing in Christian’s head.
“I want you to live but not like the animal you have become. You have gone mad over her.”
Christian knew he had lost all humanity after Josette’s death. He indiscriminately killed mortals; young and old, man and woman, until the act of killing could no longer sate him. There was no cure and perhaps Michel was right and he had gone mad with grief. He tried to rationalize with Michel, begging him to set him free, but the death- like sleep took him just as it had done every night, only this time he would awake in darkness, a prisoner at the mercy of his best friend.
Michel would come to him every night and talk, perched atop his coffin, reporting everything happening in London or with the French vampires back in Paris.
As time passed, Christian no longer felt his body. It was as if only his mind existed. How long could he stay trapped in here and not shrivel up in the darkness?
Eventually he stopped asking Michel how long he had been imprisoned. It was no use as Michel would never answer him. If he asked when he might be freed, Michel would simply say, soon. He lost all feeling, all hunger. It was as if he were a thought, a mind floating in time and space with no beginning or end. There was only nothingness and it had embraced him like the darkness.
Then one night Michel did not come. Christian called out to him in his thoughts, begging him to come back, hoping that to reach him through their blood connection, but there was no answer. It was like Michel had disappeared. He tried not to panic believing Michel would return and all would be well. Michel had always been there. Ever since they were children in Meudon France they had been inseparable. Nothing would change.
Suppose Michel is dead. I will rot here.
When the silence became unbearable, he thought about Josette. He had refused to turn her though she had begged for what she called his dark gift. Some gift, he thought, it has brought me nothing but pain and despair. She had begged and he had said no, over and over again, and now she was gone, dead; taken from him forever. Why had he been so stubborn, so selfish? Why could he not bring them happiness? Josette would get eternal life and he would get Josette. He had no answers, just as he had nothing now. No Josette, no Michel, no freedom.
He had heard about vampires being imprisoned; bloodsuckers who had gone mad with blood lust. Vampires who had lost all reason and became a threat to their kind. Gabrielle had told both he and Michel stories of vampires imprisoned for centuries. Upon their release they were either healed of their cravings or destroyed. Would Michel have the courage to destroy him if he could not keep his pain and anger under control?
He slept and dreamt and time passed in the darkness, how much time he did not know. There was nothing.
Then one night he heard a sound as if someone were whimpering. He thought it was another dream and then he smelled her….human flesh and blood. Blood moving through veins and pounding in his ears. A mortal was close by. Then the clamoring of chains rolling off his coffin deafened him. When the lid opened he tried to focus and suddenly Michel’s face was there. Christian tried to speak, but no sound came out. Strong arms lifted him gently as Michel cradled his best friend and laid him on the dirt floor.
“I have brought you a present.” Michel whispered, sitting beside him. Christian tried to focus in the half-light. He glanced down at his hands and his skin looked like translucent parchment paper barely covering his bones. His clothes must have rotted away. God, how much time has passed?
His attention turned to the mortal girl, whimpering, not babbling, or screaming, just whimpering. Michel jumped up and dragged her towards him in the darkness. She had dark hair and her low-cut dress was stained with mud and food scraps. Christian assumed she was a prostitute.
“Sit down here my little one.” Michel whispered into her ear, pushing her down onto the floor next to Christian.
“Don’t worry my friend she has no idea where she is.”
Suddenly, a silver dagger appeared as Michel cut his own arm, just inside his wrist. Christian watched the dark blood pool up on his pale skin. He leaned over Christian pushing his bleeding arm towards his face. Christian tried to move his jaw to no avail. It had been so long. Michel sucked his own blood then gently brushed his blood soaked lips onto Christian’s mouth.
He gasped then latched onto Michel like a newborn baby at its’ mothers’ breast. He felt Michel tremble as he took his blood.
God, how I have missed you Michel, Christian thought, as Michel’s warm blood ran down his throat, feeling his mind come alive once more as every muscle, ligament and tendon began to expand. At first he felt as if he would be sick, and pulled away, but it passed and then he felt ravenous, needing more blood.
“Come Christian, take her,” Michel commanded, grabbing the girl. Michel brushed her hair back from her face with his long white fingers. The girl lay limpid in Michel’s arms, staring blankly at Christian.
Michel exposed her pale neck while Christian sat staring back at her, unable to speak or move. Michel waved the dagger and quickly punctured her white throat making two small marks in her dirty skin. Her eyes grew larger as blood flowed down her dress, but she barely moved.
“Take her my friend,” Michel whispered as he held her against him. With difficulty, Christian was able to get onto his knees. He tried to move, which was painful at first. His bones felt as though they would crumble but her fluttering heartbeat called to him and he slowly moved towards her.
Suddenly she screamed and tried to wiggle away then Christian fell upon her. She struggled until he buried his teeth in her neck. She stopped squirming as he drank and her life-force ebbed as he filled himself up. She went limp under him as he drank and drank.
The pounding of her heart in his head was his signal to release her but he could not stop. He continued until her body went cold in his arms. He laid her down gently on the dirt floor and rolled over, trying to sit up.
Michel smiled, brushing Christians’ hair out of his face. His once wavy hair now hung down his back like a blond cape.
“Forgive me, mon ami. It was the only way to save you.”
“How long Michel?” Christian croaked, startled at the sound of his own words.
“Fifty years, Michel confessed. “It is the year of our Lord, 1841, and believe me, London is not the same place you remember.”
Christian sighed, not trusting himself to stand up just yet.
Michel hugged him again, “I can bring you others if you would like.”
“I think you better bring me some clothes first,” Christian asked, noticing Michel’s clothing for the first time. “What are you wearing?”
"Welcome back my friend.”
posted by Denise K. Rago at 11:29 AM
4 Comments:
Wow, that was great, Denise! Powerful stuff. I loved it.
Thank you.
Christian's waist-length hair is a badge, a symbol of surviving being a prisoner in his coffin. I needed the reader to understand the bond between Christian and his closest friend Michel. Michel took an incredible risk to save the life of his friend, for even he found Christian's behavior unacceptable and out of control.
Beautifully written, Denise. This excerpt really struck a nerve.
Thank you Rita. It was difficult to write yet a necessary piece to show the read that 1) Despite Michel's beauty which tends to leave women with the impression he is all fluff he is not. He thinks and feels deeply, he just does not express it too often. But when he does, his observations are zingers and 2) I needed the reader to know that despite or because of years of friendship with Christian, he was able to put it aside in the hopes of saving his friend. Even he was frightened by Christian's excess and rage.
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