The Journal of Liana

I was the first.

Waking hours before sunset had always been my goal, and finally, after centuries of fighting the narcoleptic effects of the sun, I could rise easily at least four hours before those beams of incinerating light gave way to the soothing balm of the moon. I could never tell Him, though. He'd punish me for fighting against the gift He gave me.

He calls it a gift, just like I used to. Before I regained my conscience.

Now I call it a curse. But never in front of Him.

The world was still buzzing with humanity. I could feel the sun's rays reaching through brick and concrete, incorporeal fingers straining to reach my vulnerable skin and cremate me. I would never allow that to happen, I'm dead not dim. I landed like a ghost on the chilled floor and made my way through the labyrinthine catacombs. Death follows me like an obedient puppy, completely part of me yet not how nature intended me to be. I was not born this way. I was not always the beautiful portrait of Death that I am now. My appearance draws the human soul, tempts the weak human bodies, corrupts the human thoughts.

I was not always so violent, so seductive and callous. I did not always crave the lifeblood of humans.

Before He discovered me, I had been the epitome of purity. My body had never known the touch of man. I went to church every day, just to be in the presence of a being that was wholly good, a being untainted by human desires. I wanted to be elevated in that purity, to bathe in it and never know the brutality of the world. My papa had warned me of monsters, but my mind could never comprehend the idea of such evil. Disobedience allowed the seed of sin to germinate, and I found that Evil is a corporeal being, not just an idea, or state of mind.

I escaped my gilded cage one evening, to play in the garden; still young enough to relish in the beauty of the first snowfall.

I had dismissed the cold shiver of warning that raised the hairs on my neck and gone back to twirling, uncaring of the darkness. The stars went by, flashing in the sky like tiny diamonds on a necklace my mother owned. Childish minds are like that, they fluctuate, skipping over things they care not to face. I would kill to have my innocence back. But killing only makes my mind darker; my innocence gets further away with each atrocity I commit.

At the time, all I knew was that I was happy. I was away from the too perfect life I had been born into, away from the rules and disappointment that came from my parents wanting to oppress my independence, spirit, personality.

My feet halted their steps and when looked up, it was into the eyes of a demon, but I couldn't scream. Fascination warred with the need to flee; ultimately overpowered it.

But terror still froze the blood in my veins as my mind struggled to grasp the possibility that I was in the presence of something higher then myself. Something divine.

"Why are you here?" My words were refusing to emerge, hiding from the face of pure evil.

"I can free you from all of this." He waved his hand towards my house. "You will finally be where you are destined to be. You were made to rule these inferior life forms, be the Queen of Darkness, Ruler of the Night. You belong with me."

"Join me…" He whispered in my ear. My breath came in staccato gasps. He was offering me everything I'd ever wanted. Freedom. I wanted freedom.

Obviously I took it, or I would not be prowling the darkness, centuries later, feeding on innocence as though it could replace what I had lost. I exist in a world where I am no longer human, but something far more…advanced. The spear of wood in my hand was smoothed from all the times I'd made the exact same journey, each day when I awoke. And I stood in the primitive chapel, hand raised and ready to strike…

But I couldn't impale myself. It would ruin my Master, my Maker.

The heavy oak doors opened behind me and a young peasant girl rushed in. She halted, distressed when she gazed upon me. With a smile, I slithered towards her.

"Join me…" I purred, promise lilting my voice with a celestial spirit I was not worthy of.

I was the First, but I would make sure I wasn't the Last.

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