Future Diary

A short story about choices.

My future diary will reveal my past more readily than I'll ever care to admit. Forever naive,  hopeful ...and doomed.

My past...so strange a word now that I am destined to live sandwiched between an endless past and a never-ending future. I had three choices. I could spend eternity trying to find a way to die, which was out of the question, go mad and be sentenced to an eternity of madness or,  I could accept my fate and make the best of it. I decided madness was not only tedious but cowardly so subsequently I accepted the challenge of an immortal existence lived, for want of a better word, in a state of grace. I am, as you have probably guessed by now, am a vampire. Don't laugh. Being undead does not  mean I have to rip humans into pieces and consume their blood without a shred of dignity...although I have done just that.  I truly believe the state of grace can sustain me through the horribleness of eternity... I need to believe it.  Of course, I knew it was gonna take a tremendous amount of work.

The first thing I needed to do was to  rid of myself of my maker. Grace would be a hard enough state to achieve without facing Ash's commanding and compelling force each night. He would only complicate my unlife. I told him I needed a couple of centuries to sort myself out. He was taken aback by my request but graciously allowed me time to "find" myself. He thought I was foolish beyond belief but like I said, he set me free to pursue my dream...or so I thought.

I decided to become a nurse and serve the very humankind I was doomed to feed upon. Of course I'd have ready access to blood and enjoy many different and  genteel manners in which to dine. I had been reading in the British press about a human called Florence Nightingale.  I used my charm to convince her to take me on as a student explaining I had a horrific allergy to the sun and required a minimum of twelve hours of sleep each day. But I also told her I was a voracious learner and would absorb much very quickly. Being the compassionate woman she was, Florence took me on as a part-time student. She was truly amazed by the way I devoured my lessons and agreed I was indeed a quick study.  I fed only on those who were terminal or dying. My superior sense of smell allows me to tell the difference. We do not feed on the dead...ugh! We are not the likes of those disgusting  carrion eating zombies.

Out of the blue in about 1972, I opened my mail box upon arriving home from a shift and my world almost stood still. Walking into the house, I tossed an envelope onto the gleaming red formica kitchen table. I would eventually throw it away without opening it. Over the course of a few months I had many more such correspondence to dispose of.  I knew who was sending them. Laughing, bold and  beautiful, he was all of that, but Ash was also rash and hurtful and more often then not, just plain cruel. He may be my maker but I wasn't about to give up my life of grace. Especially when I had reached a state where I could even produce an occasional genuine smile. My new life had no place for Ash and our once tumultuous past.

We knew passion, oh yes! Uninhibited wicked passion. But there had also been pain... so much god-damned pain! My inner being still stung from his constant torments. He was forever telling me to let my true spirit free...that I chained the vampire within. What did it matter to him that I was once a nun. Rarely if ever did he considered the feelings of others. However, my inner being had once been,  well ...that of a nun...albeit a fallen one. Ash made me forget my vows.

Ash spent eternity immersed in the hostile pursuit of the his versions of truth. He was and is, a slave to his whims, and trust me, they are plenty. Staring at his latest letter, I was struck how each word slashed into the fine grained surface of the expensive envelop, was a reflection of  the visible power of the man. Tall and muscular, his jet black hair shone with preternatural vitality. Dark green eyes stared out of a face of a porcelain Adonis. However, the not so visible side of his nature told the real story... I would often marvel at the images he'd  paint; alarming murals depicting the wanton destruction of purity. Each brush stroke was a revelation of his his true passions. Still, merely reading my name and address penned by his hand made me feel a little weak. Each slope and curve of  letter reminded me of the seduction. I was such an idiot! So young and so incredibly foolish. But not for long... In a single moment  my life was forever changed.

Balance rarely hangs on quiet dog day afternoons but rather tosses and turns on the restless winds of life forever teetering toward the brink of calamity. As humans we are so fragile and as masses so naively gullible ... but alas no longer am I.

I will always remember that stunning moment of truth. But I can never, ever, re-live the absoluteness of it. Every last ounce of innocence was sucked from my body, from my mind and from my soul.  We romped like animals. I became hollow... jaded.

Soulless, I try to live quietly. Try to blend in. I try to forget what I am. But Ash won't let me now. He will haunt me, taunt me. .. he'll say he loves me, because he believes I am his perfect creation, the wanton ex-nun who once hunted with him, fed with him, traveled the world with him, doing whatever our vamperic hearts desired... true hedonists devoid of  conscience. But I remembered. My life before the change was a ghost that would not rest.

I didn't open the letter. I never do. I just started packing. I will leave like I have a thousand times before. There is always another place needing a nurse. Another supervisor delighted with someone who will only work the night shift . And although I only take those whose prognosis is death, I still despised my thirst.

I feel I have been achieving a modicum of grace through penance. At times I almost feel happy. I'm not ready to give up yet. Ash seeks me for the hunt but even more for my rage. It was once was so mighty and my despair so great...It delighted him to see me so debased. He would like to see it rear it's horrid head again.

Yes, I erred ..  but I was only human. The idea was intoxicating... to be young, beautiful and powerful ...forever! What seemed so right  then, soon became my  liege. Yes I hate him, I   hated him with every fiber of my undead flesh, yet I have forgiven him. Am I not then divine?