1 - Present time
"Darkness. It's funny how the most difficult of times are always spoken of as "dark times'."
The lone figure moves through the city of London. Cars are passing, people are laughing, life unfolds, all completely oblivious to the figure moving in shadow. He passes through the city center on his way to the outskirts. His destination is a small cemetery, completely forgotten to time. A rusty broken iron fence surrounds the overgrown and neglected landscape. The remains of church stands nearby. The wood of the church is long gone. Only a stone foundation and pieces of stone walls remain. No one remembers the name of the church. No one, that is, except the man. He stands in front of the church and remembers a day when it was alive with conversation. People laughing, singing, and praising the almighty. Now, nothing. As if to punctuate the thought he hears thunder and begins to feel the rain.
Taking a breath he steps through the broken fence. And walks to the grave. The graveyard is overgrown with most of the markers long gone, but he knows exactly where the grave is. He passes graves of friends long gone and remembers their vitality, their friendships. He also remembers how it all changed to fear and hatred. The ghosts of this graveyard are strong. They have haunted him through the years. He ran from them and hid. No more hiding, now. Time has passed and he has found peace. There is one last hurdle that remains. One piece of the past left to overcome.
Standing at the grave he sees what is left of the marker. Worn by time and the elements the words can no longer be seen. He remembers them. He knows them as deep as if he chiseled them himself. He runs his fingers along the marker tracing the name, Ptolemy Cullen.
As the rain falls a man is kneeling over a grave. His tears mixing with the rain. "Father, it's your son Carlisle. I was angry and lost. I was resentful and proud. Now I am a father and I almost lost a son. I understand now. I know the weight of responsibility you felt for your flock."
Thunder rolls and the rain swells. The wind whips through the graveyard carrying with it the whispers of a son to his father. "Father I understand and I forgive you. Too much time has passed between us. I want you to know who I am."
2 - 1653 Spring - In the outskirts of London
"Dammit boy! We are moving rocks not daydreaming." Ptolemy Cullen wore simple wool clothes, but even in simple clothes he was a striking figure. He stood taller than other men, but then that was in the eyes of a fourteen year old boy.
"You are truly a man of God, Elder Cullen. That the Lord would choose to take poor Sister Cullen and leave you with the burden of this child must be the tests of Job." Said Elder Smythe. He was another great man. Strong and proud he had fathered 9 sons and 3 daughters of the surviving children many were pillars of the church.
I was used to the taunts. For 14 years, I knew something was different about me. Others did what they were told. They sweated day and night toiling on the tasks at hand. Myself, I would often become lost in in my thoughts. Why do men act as they do? What is it that drives them to be so obedient? How is it that one is looked to as the leader and not another?
Today, however, was not a day of my pondering. Today word had come to London of a great witch trial in Germany. It seems that the country is rife with the works of the devil. Imagine if in your town, at your homes, coming face to face with the agents of the devil. Father has told stories of such trials he has been part of. He has said that the witch is a far less evil opponent than the vampire. We are building this church on the outskirts of London as a beacon of hope and a headquarters for the battle against the devil.
As I moved the rocks, I continued to contemplate the physiology of an agent of the devil. Certainly physiologically the devil would have to work through the confines of human anatomy. Witches, it seems, can call the demons to do their bidding and demons have the supernatural powers of the devil. This one I can understand for it is the demons doing their will. Vampires, however, are a different matter. Father says they were once human like everyone else but by their weakness of faith they are converted to another creature entirely. This creature born of satan is evil and vicious. It thirsts for the blood of Christian men.
How can this be? Man survives by the consumption of nutrients. Is it possible that all of these nutrients can be found in the blood? Father says they are cold and their skin is turned to stone. In the sun they are burned so they can only come out at night.. Surely this cannot be. Absolute conversion from one type of creature to another is an impossibility. The basic fundamentals of science prove this an impossibility.
A clap to my ear brought me out of this revelry.
"Boy, if you aren't going to make yourself useful then take the wagon and go to town. I have a delivery waiting at the store. While there purchase more nails and hammers."
"Yes, father"
"Be swift about it boy. The Lords work waits for no man."
London was in a time of transformation. Although the greatest intellectual changes were taking place on the Windsor side, in London, among the common folk, it was still a remarkable time. Oliver Cromwell had ejected Parliament and shifted government toward a more intellectual based global leader. Our navy was winning battles with the Dutch. The Globe was still showing the great plays of Shakespeare. I, in the meantime, was clearing rocks.
Not that I am ungrateful by any means. Starvation and poverty were rampant. I at least have food and a roof over my head, but I knew there was much more to this world. I could see it. I wanted more.
I had traveled the better part of an hour musing over my place in the world when I found myself awestruck. There, in a tree, I saw nothing short of a miracle from God.
She was slight of build with hair the brown color of the candies they sell in town. Her eyes brown but bright and inquisitive. Her face reminded me of a heart but perhaps that is only because at first site I fell madly in love.
We made quite the sight for a few moments. Me starting dumbstruck and her, a woman, up in a tree. Such boldness she had, even from my wagon I could feel her vitality. For an eternity I was lost in her eyes.
She broke the spell "What do you think you are doing staring at me as such?"
I was startled and made the horse jump. Time stopped as I tried to regain control of the horse while simultaneously running to the tree to stop her fall. With each agonizing inch she got closer to the ground in slow motion. I couldn't make it to her in time. She hit the ground with a an agonizing thud and cried out.
Finally, I was at her side. I touched her skin. I tried to ease her but I felt as I was intruding on God himself. Touching her was a blasphemy. She was wonder and grace. God had surely created a miracle with such beauty and, and, the foulest mouth I have ever heard.
"Dammit what type of an asshole are you to sneak up and startle a girl like that?"
I was dumbfounded
"Can you speak? Do you understand? By the grace of all that is holy I am sent a mute idiot that cannot even help me up."
I helped her up. Her skin was like lightning, it shocked me and made my heart stop. I helped her to her feet as she continued to curse at me. She stood up and she brushed off her pants. She was wearing pants. She was cursing at a rip in them which appeared to have blood on it. Such boldness a woman wearing pants speaking as foul as the men at the docks.
"You're, you're hurt there on your leg where the pants must've ripped and sharp cut…" I stammered incoherent nonsense.
"Seems God does have a sense of humor, as he didn't send me the mute idiot, but a crazed lunatic. No shit I'm cut, you made me fall from a damn tree."
This woman was a marvel. She was so self assured and so alive. My head was swimming.
"Not idiot, Carlisle Cullen" I managed to croak out
"Oh so there is a new type of idiot called a Carlisle is there? I am only teasing, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance Mr. Cullen, I am Lisbet Weaver."
And with that, I met my first love.
I offered her a ride home so that she wouldn't have to walk on her hurt leg. No impropriety implied, I assure you. To my delight she accepted.
"So M'Lady, where my your chariot take you?"
Oh My God, did I just speak like that? Please God, I will give whatever sacrifice you require, just let me go back in time and stop looking like such an idiot.
Thankfully she only giggled.
"I live in London. Do you know where the meat market is?" She asked.
"Yes, it is on the way to the mercantile market I was heading to."
"We live in the apartment above the meat market."
This was excellent news. As we build the church I am spending a lot of time at the market. I will be able to see her and get to know her. My mind was running into the future of a life with her. We were already married with children when she returned me from my daydream.
"You're the preacher's kid right?"
"Yes my father is Elder Cullen, the minister, we are building a church just down the way…."
"Father says you are a bunch of superstitious fools clinging to beliefs the true church has long since abandoned." she interrupted.
With that, my perfect, imaginary life with her was dashed to pieces.
Changing the subject, I asked "What were you doing up in that tree?"
"Birds" she said, "or more rather the patterns the birds make."
I too had wondered about the reasoning behind the birds flying together in specific patterns.
"I have often wondered how they know when to move. Clearly, there isn't an instructor calling out orders, they move as if they are all sharing one mind," I said. It was the truth, but I was really just hoping it would make me sound better than a superstitious fool.
"Here's where I get off," she said, "thanks for the ride."
"I am very happy we met, Lisbet Weaver," I said as formally as I could muster. This was my last chance to impress the girl.
"Happy? You are happy I have torn my pants and have physical harm from our meeting?" she asked.
Devastated I stammered "No, I meant uh... ."
"Just kidding, glad to meet you to," and with that she was gone.
I went on to the market and picked up Father's delivery. I was still amazed at this wondrous woman. Not only was she beautiful, but intelligent too. She was thinking of things that I was thinking. She is surely a sign from God. This must be my destiny. I must find a way to speak to her again. She is….
Whap!
Smacked across the ear I was returned to the present. There was my Father and the other elders. Even some of the children who were helping clear the land.
"Boy, I told you to pick up more hammers and nails. You return with an empty cart save for the package."
"Useless I say," muttered one of the Elders with many indicating their agreements.
"No dinner for you, boy, clear the rocks on the far end there so your stupidity doesn't infect the rest of us."
In the present time the rain has gotten worse as Carlisle absently pulls weeds away from his father's gravestone.
"You see father? You didn't know, I wasn't a stupid boy, I was in love."