Florence

by V. M. Rodriguez

Here lies the written tale of Raphael, a vampire who has spent a majority of his immortal life seeking sanity in the menacing shadow cast by his murderous sister, Florence. Here he voices his tale-from the catastrophic beginning to the liberating end.

There was never a moment where I truly believed my sister was a monster. In the old days, I would usually force myself to think that the very Devil had encased himself inside her beauteous frame and was the reason behind the sick twinkle within my sister's eye. I sit here now, and as I reflect on everything that has passed between us, I still cannot make myself believe her humanity has entirely withered away like human bones after years of decay.

I feel a strange craving to write out my story, yet I feel I need to write out her story as well, considering that both our tales intertwine with one another and everything I had done in my past was all because of her. I don't know whether I am the hero or a common narrator in this anecdote, but I do know that writing this eponymous story will give me a block of sanity in a life that lasts forever. Am I writing this in my sister's human memory? Perhaps, but after years of watching everything I know die, I've learned that it's not useful to mourn things that can never be relived again…