Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
a/n: this has nothing to do with anything in the books
Monday, January 3
I am here again to start off in my story where I left off yesterday. I had an uneventful night; no lycans were out hunting. There was nothing for me to do so I took my anger out in the dojo and in a friendly fighting match between myself and the number one death dealer. I won, and am soon to rise up in rank, providing Kahn keeps his word, which I suspect he will.
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My two little nieces
grew up quickly. I watched as they went from small, whining babies
to study, giggling toddlers. Their father wasn't around much. He
told us he had important business elsewhere in the country. We all
knew what he meant, but didn't say anything. We were too ashamed.
Our family was a proud one, and very well respected, not only for our
abundant riches, but also for our morals.
I can still clearly remember the day I lost my humanity. I had awoken early to watch the moon set and the sun rise. I absorbed the vibrant colors painted across the sky; a dark indigo blue on top with tiny pin pricks of star light still shining. The dark indigo lightened to a softer shade of blue, which gently melted into various shades of orange, yellow and gold, haloing the golden disk of light which crawled slowly into place. I loved the dawn, where time stood still until the sun was fully awake and life could resume. I also loved the sunset; I didn't know how much I would grow to hate it soon enough.
The day was like any other. My father had brought the sheriff to our stables. Something had been killing our horses. We had only five left as seven had already been killed. One of the horses was taken to a clinic where it was autopsied. The doctors discovered that it had been drained dry of all blood. They also noticed tiny puncture hole on the horses. They suspected vampires and immediately took care.
A priest came to our home and blessed the stables, sprinkling them with holy water and hanging crucifixes on all the walls. They hung cloves of garlic on the horses necks and smeared garlic paste all over the entrances. To be safe, they also hung silver around the place.
That night, we heard a disturbance from the shed. The horses screamed, and stopped abruptly as if something slit their throats. My father picked his shot gun up, and quietly opened the front door. As he peered into the dark, my mother ushered my sister and I up the stairs. As we reached our room, I heard a gargle coming from below. I tip toed down the stairs. There was no one around, except a dark shape on the floor. As I walked closer, I thought I saw a dark shape flash bye, but I didn't see anyone. I moved closer to the shape on the floor and jumped back as I saw that it was my mothers corpse. I held my hand to my mouth to silence my scream. As lightning flashed outside, I saw my father's lifeless body laying on the ground beside the shot gun.
A piercing scream shattered the silence in the house. I raced up to my sisters room, almost afraid to look in. My fears were confirmed. She laid dead, half on the bed. I watched as her body slid fully off the stained comforter and onto the rug with a thunk. I remembered my nieces and raced to their room, screaming their names. I burst into the room to see them also dead. I knew I was alone, and I was afraid. I stood their, watching them.