Journals

Journal 2/28/11

In the jungle

He runs. He always runs. This time, I will catch him. He is fast. He won't be fast for long. I can already feel my teeth sucking the life out of his weak little neck. You are probably asking for hoping for an excuse. Oh, I was born this way, I can't help it. No. I was not born this way. I was 17 when I was reborn. It seemed that everything was clearer, like, for all my life I had been under mud, and I had just broken out of it. The rest of my thousands of years passed by quickly, only images of me tearing innocents' throats out, me saying before each death, You were born to die. There are people who beg for immortality, and of course they are killed. Sometimes by me, other times by the Unknowns, the specialized force that rids the world of those who know the secret. Others kill themselves when they find out, not staying long  enough to even begin to try to kill me. Not that they could, but it would be nice to have someone try. I am long due for a fight, or even some sort of struggle. The vampyre that created me only wanted my blood. He didn't mean to turn me, but he had penetrated my skin with the knife he had brought with him, and my long nails had cut his thick skin. We were linked. You see, you have to join blood with a vampyre to become one. I burned for days. Not literally, but the idea was the same. Everything was in pain. My brain, my heart, my limbs, oh and my teeth. After I turned, he was gone. I had to learn all about my abilities on my own. I tried to kill myself more than once. I jumped from cliffs, hanged myself, I even tore myself apart with my nails, but oh no luck. I am not sorry for the things I have done, but I have to admit that the damage gets worse after my prey dies. I always clean up my mess, stage scenes in which my prey could have died "accidentally". Still, family comes to look for the person, and soon they die, too. I try to make it a warning, but still, no one stops for their family. I had a family once, but they betrayed me. It doesn't matter, I watched them die years later, all of them getting older, getting gray hair, wrinkles, until eventually they just shriveled up and died.

He is still running. He doesn't understand that if I jump down, he will die instantly. I like to play cat and mouse, though. Soon I get tired of the game, and I jump from the trees, to land right in front of him. I register the look of terror on his face before I am tearing his throat out and sucking him dry. You will not understand. No one will ever understand.