A Night for Memories...

A simple comment brought to my mind memories of my existence as a vampire. Where would I begin to tell you of a life, my life, that I barely know of anymore?

How it has all come to this moment, this one ‘grain of sand in my existence? That is how I look to my Immortality now.

Every event that happens, every moment is that tiny grain of sand that falls from the top of the hourglass to the bottom. Turned over one day when you least expect it, your humanity is gone and you become someone you don’t recognize. You might wake up in your life; go about your business only to find by nightfall the Fates have decided to pick you to be a harbinger of death. But first, it’s you who has to die. That in and of itself, is something you wish not to remember, but you do. The pain, terror and then realization that something so horrible has gotten you in their grip, taking from you all that you are and every drop of blood that makes your heart beat, your brain function and your life exist. You feel yourself slipping away and in the words of others, ‘my life flashed before my eyes’ is something you now know is not true. There is no time to recall your childhood, your parents. The loves you’ve shared or children you bore. And as it all is pulled from you by force . . .

One grain of sand now falls in the hourglass that is to become your existence, your death.

You have now become the harbinger of death that took from you your life and made you one of them. You struggle to survive, not understanding who you are or why you even are. At least that is how it was for me.

I have heard stories of different turnings, but mine? Well, mine was not the sweet, arousing and loving gift some have received. Mine was of rage, hatred and a creature vile enough to take from me the two things that mattered most in my soul, though I would not find this out until centuries later.

But, I digress.

Another grain of sand does fall . . . 

By now what I once was is gone and all that is left in its place is a creature of rage and revenge. Like my maker before me, whoever that was, all the evil rage seemed to have transferred itself to me and I became relentless in my quest for revenge. But first, I had to survive.

I knew nothing of what I needed or where to go. Were their others like me? Of course there had to be or I wouldn’t exist. Were they all like him? Yes, I remember in those first days my maker being male. Yet none of that seemed to matter as I raged to survive and make some sense as to what was expected of me. That is when I found them. The traveling group of creatures like me who seemed more settled in their own shells and nothing compared to the uncontrollable shell I was in.

I went with them, they showed me how to survive though I fought against it at first, realizing then that there had to be some piece of me still left deep, deep inside. Still in Paris we traveled until coming to an old abandoned Theatre. Inside we would find what most of our kind back then needed.

A Coven Master.

. . . and thus

Another grain of sand does fall . . .

I shook myself out of my immortal reverie long enough to look at those now around me and realized I was no longer back there; still knowing that at another time my memories would take me back to those nights...

Those long nights of my early vampire existence.

Posted via web from Lady Celeste

She Is Me

Posted via web from Lady Celeste

The Worst Kind of OOC

Most of you do not know the woman behind the Avatar. The OOC person who portrays the sexy, flirty, devious Vampiress with a black jaguar for a protector, an Italian Bonded Vampire as her mate, demons as friends and who takes in Fae, Weres, Pixies and Humans as her family. We all know that this is just a role-play site and that somewhere, underneath all those layers is a real person. No matter what name I am called, I am still a person with a life other than the one my friends and I have created. Hence, the reason I am writing this to you.

 

I, the real live person, had to sit down tonight and explain to a young girl I call daughter, why her mother committed suicide. Since you don’t know me then you don’t know that I take in street kids. No, not Weres, Pixies and the like but real street kids, the ones who have been lost between the cracks of an already overloaded system and parents who have given up on them and the system both. Shocking, but true that in our society we can just throw our hands up and say, “that’s it, I’m done,” especially to a child of your own flesh and blood. To date I have 5 living with me and two are girls who have been with me all through high school, graduated and gone on to have jobs. They chose to stay because they are loved, welcome and have what they didn’t have before, a family. Tonight, was one of those nights when I think I would have given anything to be single and alone again instead of a surrogate mother who had to sit down and give one of her daughters the worst news anyone could receive.

 

Tonight, I had to look into the confused eyes of a girl and tell her that her flesh and blood mother had been found dead in her home. Cause of death to be determined but the police think it was a suicide. I remember when I was 17 and on the receiving end of this news. Only for me it came in the form of a doctor, covered in my mother’s blood, telling me she was gone. Yes, I’m a survivor of suicide. Several in fact, not something I’m proud to be able to say. And I am a survivor because suicide is harder on those left behind than the person who has committed the act. We survive suicide. Their pain is over and ours has just begun. Now comes the shock, pain, grief, guilt and anger that accompany this horrific tragedy. I had to tell her how much pain her mother was in, not from an illness or accident but pain so deep it buries itself in your soul to become a part of you. You can’t hide from it, walk away from it, will it away or even medicate it enough to find relief. Their only solution is one that ends up passing pain and grief over to the ones who love them, who will miss them and ask the question, why?

 

I have been down this path many times. Nothing was ever as hard as being told about my own mother until tonight. For as I sat and watched the emotions play on my girls face, I saw myself and thought how I would gladly take her place. After all, I had survived it once, I could do it again for her. Sadly, life and death do not work that way and I have no choice but to dry her tears, hold her in my arms and remind her that she is loved no matter who bore her. That her mother is no longer suffering and it is up to us who remember her to continue on living and strive to find peace and happiness in our own lives.

 

Please, this morning, afternoon, night, grab your loved ones and hold them close. Tell them you love them with all your heart and soul. Cherish every single moment you can with them and try very hard to put strife and anger out of your lives. None of us knows what’s waiting around the corner and heaven forbid the phone should ring in the middle of the night. One of the worst feelings in the world is the one that continuously brings us back to that question of, what if? What if has no answer; it can never be explained, fixed or realized. What if is just that, what if.

 

Thank you for reading and please, say a prayer for my girl, Jamie.

 

I write this for Jamie, Linda and myself.

I write this for all who have survived this.

Prayers, love and comfort surround us and

God keep us safe  ~  Until We Meet Again~

 

Posted via web from Lady Celeste

A Mother's Pride

From a Mother to a Daughter

On her Wedding Day: 

Just after Sunset in Paris 

February 14, 2010

I had watched as you stared out the window of the luxurious Bedroom. I wondered how many countless Woman of time had done just this on their own wedding day. I remember standing here myself, so many years ago waiting for the man I would spend the rest of my life with only to find later that Fate intervened. He died that night while I too was taken from this world but reborn into another. Since then many things have changed. I went from an enraged monster capable of killing on a whim to becoming a lover to a Vampire that felt the same way about the world as I. For many centuries we did unspeakable acts upon humanity but then, once apart I could see my eternity as a bleak dark existence and wanted more for myself than that. Moving alone among the world for a time I had come to rest among a group of Vampires who took me in and made me one of them. Their goal was to change the way of our destiny. To my surprise, the old lover I had been with before was among them and even he seemed somewhat settled.

We lived in relative peace for Vampires, for they are not social creatures and then one day a miracle was brought to us by way of this ex-lover. Satin Rain Thomas, Imp Extraordinaire. She taught us many things but the greatest gift is always love and that, she had an abundance of. We knew not where she came from and it didn’t seem to matter since none of us really chose to go down a path that existed in the past. Instead, we moved forward, changing, evolving, growing and the girl became a woman under our tutelage. Soon it seemed as if she was running us instead of use raising here. We took turns with her education and eventually the time came for all of us to disband. It was decided that Satin would go with Daniel Molloy, to Night’s Island, a private island off the Florida Keys. There she would be protected and her education continued until it was time to release her into the world of humans; somewhat like a wild animal let out from a protected environment for the first time.

Time moves forward in my thoughts to a file locked in memory of when I came to this place known as Shreveport. The details of how I got here and with who no longer matter as they have long been pushed aside for building better memories. Which brings me back to you, Daughter Mine. So, once again I stand here watching you with your own daughter and reflect on the shifting images of my own life and love and feel the overwhelming urge to speak to you now. As I take Rose from you, I look deep into your eyes and speak:  

Laurana, I remember the first time I met you. Such a beautiful girl, but so very lost. You didn’t know where you belonged, if anywhere. My heart beat once that day, the sadness in your eyes went so deep into my soul that I knew the image would be forever burned there for all eternity. But today, even though the image remains, it has been replaced with something else. In its place is an image of a Woman. Self assured but fanciful. Tender but strong. She is now daughter, mother, sister, and a friend to many.

Today will mark another facet to the jewel you have become. Today, you become a Wife. A wife to a man we have come to know as the Son of our Spirit. We took him into our home, trusting him to take care of the one thing he called his Heart. You. He has never broken that trust and so it is with no hesitation that we give you over to him in a permanent bond that no one can break. 

Laurana, I will forever remember the girl and the sadness that reached out to me but today the image of the woman you have becomes out-shines that memory. I love you, Daughter Mine. Am proud to call you Daughter, and will gladly deliver you into the hands of the man known as Son. For you both have filled a place in our existence that was once cold and dark. Though the night has fallen, let us walk into the daylight of a new chapter in a book that will forever be bound full of memories. I’m ready, if you are, darling.

Your Loving Mother, Celeste dé Morte – di Castello