A lost boy.

Last written and adapted, Nov. 2007. Fictional Biography of a Lost Vampire.

 

A dark clap of thunder echoed through the English sky in the eerily gloomy months of November. The year was 1987, why is that significant? Well it isn’t. The only significant thing that happened throughout those dark days in November was the birth of a little black haired boy with dark eyes that was to be named Chase Casas Shay. Why Chase? It wasn’t until later on in his life that he found the origin of his name to be English and Old French and the translation to be ‘huntsman’. Casas had no particular meaning in the family. Shay, meaning hawk is Gaelic. Chase’s last name held more significance to his future, as it held the secrets behind his abilities as a child. Matthews derived from Matthaios, in Roman transliteration means ‘gift of Yahweh’

 

Chase Casas Shay Matthews lived a normal happy life..at first. He was a normal healthy baby, although his hair changed colour from black to brown to light brown to blonde, then as he grew it darkened back to his original raven locks. His eyes also were often to change from a range of blues and greys, to greens and dark browns. This didn’t help his situation within a military and religious enforced family yet for the first half a dozen years of his life, he had a small cheeky smile on his face. He was a unique baby, evolving his words, walking, speed quickly throughout his early years and the only person this bothered was his father. Unbeknown to Chase’s mother, his father thought he literally was the son of Lucifer. Being a military man he assumed discipline to be the route and as Chase turned into the 6 year old little boy with a cheeky grin, brown eyes and raven black locks. His father snapped.

 

The year would have been 1993, the early months when soft white dew rests on blades of grass. Nightfall breaks low into an eery silence that lingers for miles and creeps up the spines of innocent people walking home from a good night out. In the small apartment, situated within the furthest back streets of London, a young boy sat in his tattered room staring at the walls as flakes of paint chipped and fell to the rotting dust covered floor. The ceiling had no tiles but if it did the fragile little mind of Chase Matthews would have already counted every tile then re-counted for accuracy.. or an attempt to keep his mind from what the night would bring when 12 chimes of London clock rang in his ear.

 

Chase didn’t understand what he did, what he said. What he <I>didn’t</I> do or say. The first time it happened was one of the times he could remember the most. The local clock chimes had just began to ring and he knew his father would be home from the pub soon. All he had to do was make sure he was asleep, or at least seeming to be. His small broken down bedroom was on the highest floor, his father had no reason to come and check on him. so when the loud echoing footsteps of what could possibly have been a giant, thundered up the wooden board stairs, Chase Matthews couldnt help but open his eyes and sit up wondering why his dad would be coming to see him.

 

The putrid smell of alcohol on his fathers breath lingered in the air as he stared at the wooden door to his bedroom. The small holes in the door that seemed insignificant in the daylight forced odd beams of blue light to spread through his room from the only window on the staircase outside. As the door handle turned, it seemed slow and suspense filling but without purpose. Chase realised something was wrong when the door slammed open and his fathers over grown and intoxicated body came lumbering through the now open gap. The mans words were rushed and mumbled, to quick for even Chase to fathom as he watched in amazement to the state of his father. The man he honoured and loved. Looked up to and was proud to be the son of.

 

Why did it have to change?

 

The small window in Chase’s room was barely transparent as the dust and cobwebs covered the glass yet it gave enough of the gloomy blue light for him to see the look of disgust that glimmered in his fathers eyes as he stormed over to him. Chase pulled himself up in his bed and pushed his small body as hard as he could into the cement wall, maybe if he pushed hard enough he’d slip right through the cracks that had formed over the years, but even as innocent as the little boy was, he doubted it.

 

 The spiteful words that broke through the silence, without him knowing, would change him forever. They would work their way into his cerebrum and start a twisted cultivation in his fragile thoughts. Did his father know this would happen? As he shouted and spat hateful words only for his son to hear, Chase watched the hatred that illuminated around his father and felt ashamed of himself.

 

What did he do?

 

The next few hours went past as a blur yet so slow Chase could register every feeling that swarmed through his body like an angered hive of wasps. The intimidating, over shadowing size of his father looked like a monster as the illuminating ocean coloured light spread across his body. The young boy stared into the eyes of his father, pleading, hoping, even praying that what was about to happen, wasn’t really going to. His little feet pushed and slid across the dirty sheet of his bed as he tried harder and harder to push himself into the wall, even though there was no escape to be had. As his fathers stone like fist rose into the air Chase jumped from his bed and made a dash for the door, only for his soft flesh to be impacted with the sharp sting of a mans back hander.

 

The limp body of Chase Matthews laid gasping for breath on the floor as his father looked down on him tensing and un-tensing his powerful hand. a sadistic smile that Chase would never forget displayed on his fathers lips. Chase couldn’t move to breathe as he felt the sharp pains circulating his ribs and right side. his father simply laughed before grabbing the small boy around the neck and pulling his almost lifeless body to his shaky feet. Chase stared into the mans eyes, the man that he once admired and simply waited. He didn’t have to wait long though before his father clenched his fist and pulled it back before thundering it into the side of the small boys face, sending his limp body across the room. The next few hours Chase must have been like a limp doll to be thrown around by the jaws of a rugged pit bull, because as his small tear stained eyes un stuck to open, the echoing footsteps of his father left his room, and it was around 4 hours since midnight when the chimes had struck.

 

Inconsolable; Unforgettable; Unforgivable

 

Changes;

 

everything had changed in one night. The man Chase considered his hero was dead, and so was Chase. The young boy never felt so lost, so abandoned, and he was only six years old. His life was a never ending spiral from morning to noon to night. He woke up to the laughter and smiles of a perfect family but was never welcomed into it. He fell asleep to the taste of metallic crimson flow in his throat and the pain of re-beaten bruises on his small frame but he never spoke about it. The bruises on his face were his own fault, of course they were, they had to be. School fights, street fights. It didn’t matter what he told them as long as he told them a lie. His whole life was based on a lie.

 

Unbeknown to his father, Chase’s body was adapting to the pain enforced on him, his skin was hardening, his muscles tensing and his mind detaching from any feelings whatsoever. Soon enough the young boy became a more sadistic version of the innocence he once portrayed. The taste of his own blood became a thrill for him, he craved it. just like he craved the pain that spread throughout his limbs. the stories he heard on the streets of London amazed him and he wanted, needed to know more. He’d sit awake at night waiting for the 12 chimes then smiled an odd smile as he heard the footsteps of his drunken, more over sized father.

 

A few hours later when his father was too tired to raise his fist anymore, Chase would lick his lips and wait for his father to leave before standing up to his feet and poking at the freshly made bruises on his pale flesh with a sadistic smile displayed across his more chiselled features. six years on from the first beating and Chase had changed a lot. He wasn’t the 12 year old pleasant boy he could have been, he was turning into the one person his father was trying to stop him becoming. He was turning into the twisted young boy with a desire for the darker things in life.. and death.

 

Buried Alive;

 

Two years later and the young boy was damaged. Almost as though a personality transplant had taken place on his fragile mind, he was jaded. His idea of reality was diminished. He started believing in vampires, blood dolls and creatures of the night that should haunt his dreams, yet Chase welcomed them. he stopped feeling his fathers beatings eventually so late at night he would go out looking for trouble, searching for that next fix of adrenaline and pain until his body was shivering with delight. Chase didn’t care that he was black and blue, he’d grown accustomed to the dull colours like a masterpiece on blank canvas. The story of his life was changing.

 

The one night Chase will never forget, is the night he lost the one person that meant more to him than anything, the person that held him together when he was slowly falling apart. When Chase’s mind slowly deteriorated in the shadows and his family kept moving on by laughing, his mother was the only person that Chase trusted. The year was 2002, the month; April. His father was out of town for a couple of days and for Chase that meant he didn’t have to hear spiteful words of hate or see the look of disgust in his fathers eyes. he wouldn’t of been so happy about it if he had known what was set to happen. Chase was supposed to go out to do some things for his father but he was busy doing something for his mother. So instead his mother went. The day was oddly dark for April and although he offered to do the jobs later his mother would have nothing of it.

 

Hours and hours went by and she still hadn’t come home. Chase was getting worried but the small smirk displayed on his face as he heard the door knock and he turned expecting to see his mother walk in.. but she didn’t. the familiar vision of flashing lights displayed against his walls as the police pulled up outside. Walking to the door he opened it then dropped to his knees, clutching clumps of his raven hair as they explained to him of his mothers un-fortune at being in the wrong place at the wrong time. why was she even in downtown London? The police explained the man in the car adjacent to hers was drunk and swerved uncontrollably across the road. She had no chance for survival. That didn’t help Chase. To him, she was like perfection and decadence. The songs she sang to him to send him to sleep when he was a child played in his memory like an angels whisper yet for some reason, he couldn’t remember her voice anymore. Her face.. the softness of her bear hug and the smooth of her touch, he couldn’t remember his mother at all.

 

Around a year and a half later and Chase was coming up to his 16^th birthday. His relationship with his father was stretched to all human capabilities and often fights broke out from the smallest of words muttered under breaths. After his mum died, Chase gave up on any hope of love within his family. His father naturally blamed him for the death of his mother, secretly Chase blamed himself but he’d never give his father the satisfaction of knowing such a fact. Chase’s family on his mothers side wanted nothing to do with him, and his fathers side didn’t give a f**k about the young man before, so why would the change their mind now?

 

A couple of months before he was set to turn 16 and his uncles moved into the family home. Chase wasn’t bothered, this just meant more pain to get a thrill off. His father and his uncles got back to their familiar routine of drug taking and cultivating and eventually sat Chase down. unbeknown to his father, Chase already had tried drugs. Marijuana was his favourite but he didn’t mind the others. Saving the fights for one night Chase obliged and sat with his father and his uncles. that night he tried more drugs and got more fucked out of his brains than he even knew was humanly possible. When he awoke the next morning, he couldn’t remember much of what happened, just jaded images and visions that he would never speak about or mention to anyone, ever.

 

Chase’s 16^th birthday rushed to him like a split semi-automatic rifle bullet slicing through the invisible air to the destination of between the victims eyes. as soon as the 12 chimes rang, he didn’t hear his fathers footsteps and for a change he was happy of that fact. he felt like s**t. His mind raced, his body ached, his muscles and limbs hurt. By the first chime of the bell into the early hours his body was shaking and sweating uncontrollably. His mind was slipping between different thoughts, different times; One minute his body was nailed to a cross, an upside down cross, the sign of the anti Christ. The next he was walking through a garden with colours that seemed brighter than any he had laid his eyes upon before. Then his thoughts would flash to a separate time. a glorious beam of purple light flashed across the sky and people cheered and raised glasses chanting ‘Yahweh’.

 

Ascending;

 

What the f**k is ascending? Chase didn’t know and he never would. All he knew was that he was changing, his body and his mind felt different.. broader. He felt stronger like a more powerful source was coursing through his veins. He felt his heart pounding his rib cage, his blood rushing through his veins. Pushing himself up from the floor, the veins in his forehead pulsated and his jaw automatically clenched as his teeth bit down on one another. His body was preparing for more of a fight but as his arms gave out and he fell back to the floor in a heaped mess. He didn’t know what was happening but he felt weightless like a feather, almost as though he was being lifted by invisible spirits. He felt nothing, no surface underneath him, as if he was hovering in mid air but that couldn’t be? as he fought to open his eyes his sudden sense of power was diminished, evaporated into thin air as he struggled to do anything but fall limp. Glowing light broke through his room yet it was pitch black outside. Something happened to Chase that night but he must have passed out because as he woke the next morning, he lifted himself partly from the warm floor boards to a sudden rush of cold as his face unstuck from the drooling and sweat flooded mess he had slept in and couldn’t remember much of anything except an overwhelming sense of pain, power, curse and blessing, love and hate.. evil and good.

 

Jaded images and flashing visions from then on haunted the teenage boy as he grew up but he never let them consume his thoughts. Although his relationship with his father hadn’t changed, and the ones with his uncles had worsened, Chase felt as though his life was looking up for the first time in many years. His education mainly consisted of him teaching himself through reading and television. Beyond the small minds of some people, one finds knowledge through the shows played. Chase unlike most kids, never had time for regular learning hours or school. His father and his uncles often had him out slanging drugs and working exchanges within the undergounds of London. I guess you could call this his first actual job.

 

Chase would never discuss it to anyone but that job opened his eyes to many different things, and in a way set a vile and putrid bond between father, uncles and son. They taught him about weapons, crafting and cleaning, explosives and cultivation of solutions to make them. The way Chase’s mind worked was ridiculous compared to his elders but they didn’t know, how could they? Chase wasn’t dumb enough to talk about the things he wanted to do. The things he wanted to do to <I>them</I>. The violent acts that were mistaken for impulse actions made his father proud, his uncle even more so for a darker unknown reason but still, it didn’t stop the brutal connection they shared since Chase was 6. No, that continued, sometimes they’d go a few days without the 12 chime nights but eventually he’d hear them footsteps..

 

The power that ascended through Chase grew more and more each day and the work that he was made to do only influenced his rages to continue spiralling out of control. His father and his uncles were blind to his growing rage and anger towards them, towards everything. One night he eventually did something unforgivable and snapped resulting in the death of a young boy. Chase faded away into the shadows after that night. The hatred that was accumulating for his father and his uncles was being well hidden under the damaged surface of the young teenager and even as he disappeared from their knowledge, it didn’t stop growing.

 

Chase lived on the streets from then on, the streets of London to be exact. For some reason his father and his uncles never found him. he was sure he had seen glimmers of them sometimes but for Chase that could mean anything. vivid images of his mothers death played in his mind, each time slightly different in some way. he was experiencing jaded realities because he wasn’t even there when it happened. Eventually he got a job doing some illegal bartending in a dingy little bar, and some nights he would end up passing out asleep there. other nights he would sleep in the forest, he found that better than some putrid alleyway covered in cardboard boxes. Soon enough Chase found a few friends and ended up mixing with a couple crowds.

 

The nights stretched out and the days seemed shallow and unwelcoming. The darkness he craved was starting to become an impulse, an itch he had to scratch. Chase and his friends often found themselves becoming involved in violent dealings and dangerous acts, soon drugs became an incoherent addiction, each time worse than the last. Some parts of the years after his 16^th birthday he cant even put together an accurate memory of, yet those times are the best times right? wrong.

 

So very wrong.

 

Two years into his life on the street and Chase was falling apart again. his mental capability was being stretched and each day he was feeling more fixated on drugs, violence and sex. The nights brought different surprises for him, each one more intriguing than the last and always leaving him craving, in anticipation of the next.. until that one night in the January after his 18^th birthday.

 

The night was dark and sadistic yet something in the air spelled seduction to the young man as he walked aimlessly through the streets, every drug that he had taken was swirling around his blood like the poisonous venom of a scorpion. Suspense filled his lungs, he felt anticipation creeping up his spine and cold shivers tormenting his bones. He had to get out of the open space. The illuminating lights of the city of London were starting to bounce at him and make smiling faces that turned into horrifying images soon after. The consuming darkness of an alleyway would be better, and even if it wasn’t as he turned and spotted the dark tunnel like opening in a sea of rainbow lights he was allured towards it.

 

As the young man stepped into the darkness it seemed as though he was attacked by shadows, yet there are no shadows within darkness. Only twisted games the mind plays on itself. The thud of his DC’s left echoes resinating throughout the silent alleyway. This all seemed like a B grade horror movie with a cut budget. Any minute now and bats would fly out of a hole in the wall. Chase laughed at the fact his mind was playing tricks on him before he choked on his vocal cords as ice cold air shattered through his lungs. It felt like he was being thrown through into the air after swallowing razor filled ice cubes in lemon juice. The sting ripped at the inside of his throat as he felt weightless like a feather in the breeze.

 

2005; the year marked for death

 

Was the sting from a lot of piercing sensations in his throat or the ice cold air ripping through his throat and into his lungs? Chase couldn’t fathom either as he was being rotated in a circle through the air held by two long slender arms of a creature. A creature he hoped but didn’t know existed, until now. as the young mans eyes fell open he gazed at the sight he was being carried over in awe. Colours he had never known existed, brighter than any he had ever seen before were filling the scenery for miles. Mountains so high that the peaks brushed the clouds and mixed with the mist and snow that covered them like a blanket. Hilltops almost as high as the mountains that had the greenest dew covered grass. Waterfalls that had silent waves, crashing with the impact of thunder that was like a whisper through the trees.

 

Chase was telling himself over and over again this was a dream as he was laid upon the highest mountain and felt the weightless touch on his face from slender fingers. Tilting his head slightly he let his eyes fall upon that of a figure, a beautiful and glowing figure. the beauty that illuminated around her allured him to her, lifting himself up, he leant back onto his hands and looked to her.. she seemed so young and perfect it amazed him how she could have gotten him there. yet he didn’t understand the strength she held. They both made their underestimations that night.

 

Chase didn’t have a minute to do anything as the slender female befell down upon him again, with her lips to his, his own warm blood slipped onto his tongue as she kissed him for a few minutes longer than he thought his lungs could allow. Dropping to the floor breathing heavily as she pulled back, her sadistically sweet smile etched into his mind for eternities, like that of a fallen angel, before she clutched her jaw onto his tensed throat again and sank her sharp pointed fangs into his pulsating veins once again. this time, the final time.

 

Unexpected; Unevaluated; Unfortunate

 

The beautiful vampire didn’t realise who or what she was toying with sinking her seductive fangs into Chase’s pale porcelain flesh. For the first part, he was highly intoxicated on a various collection of drugs and alcohol. For the second; he was very powerful with abilities that had grown throughout his life, finally ascending two years ago and making him more powerful than ever. Vile images flashed through his mind as his body and his mind fought with the overwhelming urge to give up as the female vampire sucked the very life from his veins. Scenes of horror played in his eyes as he saw ancient vampires massacre villages and towns, cities even countries. The clothes were odd, no vehicles, no large industrial buildings. How old were these scenes of terror being pushed into his thoughts and mingling with the ones already existing?

 

Chase learnt more about the darkness he craved than he ever could have hoped for in a mortal lifetime through those vivid images she allowed him to see. The myths he believed before seemed ridiculous as his maker showed to him the desire behind the secrets of the darker world. She herself, a descendent of one of the first vampires, she was not a hybrid as most of the current vampires of today are. Chase realised through these visions how vampires had evolved yet faltered with breeding and reproduction, there were few descendents of the firsts left. Unlike evolved vampires, or ‘hybrids’ as she named them in her thoughts to him, she had individual teeth, each one able to transform into sharply filed fangs which lengthen and appear hollow. Their speed was unique often seeming like they could disappear and appear in different places; Phasing through time, space, air.

 

Chase thought this was amazing but he couldn’t have prepared himself for what was to happen as she suddenly pulled herself from his pale flesh and ripped a part of skin away from her wrist. he didn’t know what it was but as the vein ripped from its original position and spurted a line of blood across his face within split seconds his teeth were ripping into her wrist and drinking at all the blood that escaped. Hungry for the liquid like a drunk to his liquor when he wakes up in the middle of the night, craving the taste like an itch that had long since been scratched. And then it all came crashing back.

 

As his maker wriggled and struggled, pulling her wrist from his insane clutches only to have it wrenched back to his lips again, he intoxicated himself with the visions of death, massacre and terror that flooded from hidden parts of her memory. The look in innocent children’s eyes as their life was stolen before they had time to enjoy it. the look in their mothers eyes as they had to watch. Some things he saw sickened him but he thrived off them anyway. He couldn’t stop drinking as the thoughts he stole from his maker filled every part of his twisted mind. he didn’t even feel the pain as he turned because the blood from his maker kept filling him with more power..and soon it was too late because as he realised her body had gone limp, he pulled away to see her take her final breath.

 

There was only one thing on his mind now, his father and his uncles and everything they had put him through. He didn’t even care that he had been ripped away from his lifestyle he had grown, his friends he had found. He had one thing to do before any other. He had to kill his father and any family associated with him. it didn’t take Chase long to get back home, it seemed he saw the dingy fucked up little apartment in his mind and bang.. he was standing right inside his bedroom. Nothing had changed, the window was still barely clean enough to look through, the walls were cracked and broken down, the door still had holes and the handle still had a small dent from his jaw in 93’

 

Seconds later and he was walking down the stairs, feeling as big as a giant for the first time ever in this s**t hole of a ‘home’ a small smile playing delicately across his deceivingly angelic yet handsome features as he heard the intoxicated groans and jokes of his elders. What fun. Would they know he was different? Would they recognize him at all? At this point he didn’t give a f**k. He was there for one thing and one thing only, mind on the job at hand. <I>focus focus focus.</I>

 

Walking through the wooden door he spotted his uncles sat on the couch and his father sat in exactly the same place as he always sat; The chair. What a f*****g family reunion. A murderer could have broke in and they wouldn’t have even known.. but then.. well one did.. f*****g kicker was it was Chase; his son; their nephew. Casually yet sadistically leaning against the doorframe Chase cleared his throat then smiled an all tooth pearly white grin and sarcastically murmured words loud enough for the old men to hear. “Miss me? Much? Maybe?”

 

The next 2 hours were a blur, but not one that Chase would forget. The second he spoke the men jumped from the seats and before they had chance to do anything Chase had already lunged for his uncle who held a gun and grabbed him by the throat. The simple push of his fingertips to the side of his addams apple and then a violent pull and his throat was pissing blood and skin hanging from his neck while Chase held his addams apple in his hand. He laughed but couldn’t help but frown, in a pretend sympathetic way before saying, “What? no laugh from you of all jokers?” and walking away as the choking and blood gurgling body of his uncle fell in a spasm to the floor and he threw his addams apple behind him to fall mere inches from its owners face.

 

Chase having grabbed the 9mm pistol from his uncles clutches then pointed it in the general direction of his more stupider uncle and before he had the chance to turn to run away shot two single bullets between his eyes. well f**k it, he wanted his time with his father more than his uncles. Turning to look to the putrid excuse for a father as he stood frozen in time, he licked his lips slowly before smearing the beads of blood across his cheek and lips from his uncles unfortunate demise the smiling scaringly sweetly to his father. The next hour and a half was forever to be cemented in Chase’s mind. The blood sprayed from wall to wall and dripped in circular beads to the floor. The hatred resinated throughout the sharp air as Chase did all the things he had ever dreamed of doing to his father. Of course he couldn’t just leave, no he had to clean up.

 

The next hour and Chase was busy putting his strength to use.. cutting through human bone isn’t as easy as they make out in the movies, but eventually Chase had managed to make three bodies disappear with no repercussions. As yet. Though paranoia soon swept through his mind like a vile disease, he became obsessed with his fathers family and how they may hunt him down for the ‘disappearance’ of the three men he lived with those years. Eventually he snapped and hunted down his whole family from his fathers side, taking and feeding off of some of them then killing them before vanishing of the bodies accordingly.

 

This was Chase’s life now. killing people by feeding from the very life they live then tossing them aside like wastes of breath anyway. Chase could only kill innocents to feed from. Often he would find young children, virgin girls or just innocent woman and men to feed off of. Their blood was pure and un damaged or tainted. He knew if his maker was alive she would be proud. The young lost boy; the bringer of darkness and destruction; The little Chaos. For two years he fed like a vile and vicious creature.  He didn’t just bite to kill, he bit and ripped the very flesh from pale throats.

 

He made virgin bodies a pale porcelain portrait, a blank canvas he covered in the crimson dark flow of blood. He craved the texture of the liquid like molten lava escaping the clutches of a volcano. He needed the taste like a metallic jagged diamond in the roughs of the black sea. He wanted the smooth sensation of life past his pale cold lips. he desired the power that rushed through him like a thousand hits of acid. He breathed the blood lust that drove him more and more into blissful delirium each day, a sweet insanity filled drop of the ruby flow, each one more desirable and different than the last..

 

Why then if he desired it so much was he haunted every second of every day by the terrifying images of mortal victims he had stolen the life of? Why was he haunted by the darkest vilest visions for even a creature such as he to bare? As though his own slayings and massacres were mixing with the slayings of the other ancients his maker had pushed into his thoughts. Every good thought was overpowered with bad thoughts. Every waking moment was filled with creeping shadows looming in on him in the dark.. the hunter, was being haunted, by the hunted. How ironic.

 

Chase was nearly 20 in mortal years, and his life wasn’t that bad except the fact he was haunted every day. Of course no one knew who or what he was, he kept himself to himself. He worked as a artist and a tattooist, he wrote and read books. His darker secret was that he often committed the violent act of murdering people, and in the mortal way. not the immortal. Chase was a murderer. He couldn’t help becoming one, he chose that path for many reasons. one of them being there were a lot more bad men than good men. Unfortunately for Chase his idea of bad was becoming jaded and diminished from reality because of delusions and vile images that continued to haunt him from his victims..

 

He had to make a change.

 

From then on Chase refused to feed from any life. he wouldn’t drink a drop of blood past his pale lips. he pushed all those he loved away from him and locked himself up in his room for days, even weeks. Until eventually his body deteriorated and began to slowly eat itself away and die. The only thing Chase could do now was as his maker told him in the beginning. To fight. To evolve.

 

The next 3 days were painful and unimaginable for the young man. The dead blood coursing his veins was slowly suffocating and exploding into evaporated air. The air which then moved around his veins caused them to implode. His veins where pulsating almost pushing through his skin. His brain was pounding his head was aching. The only thing stopping his death was his abilities from birth, his strength to fight and the powers that increased throughout his body. Eventually he passed out to vivid thoughts of acid mixed solutions, dead blood and living blood.

 

As he awoke, he felt it within his body that he was still a vampire, yet the blood lust seemed to have evaporated for the time being. His mind was filled with ideas from some sort of vivid dream or vision he had seen the previous night. Ancient scripts and writings played through his thoughts. For the next two weeks he was dead to the world as he worked on the solution that would save him from whatever this eternal purgatory he was living was. after some time he had found an acid soluble solution that mixed with dead blood cells and live blood cells to formulate a mix, strong enough to sustain his life for 12 hours maximum each time. should he miss the injection his body will turn back to the more vile creature.

 

Chase has finally been able to make himself a mortal immortal. He wouldn’t die, yet his body would age very very slowly over time. he is a homusnocturnus ‘human vampire’. The one and only. He has all the attributes of a vampire, and some extra abilities, yet he does not need to feed from an innocent anymore. He has to inject the solution every 12 hours as it cancels out the increasing mix of dead blood cells 3:1 ratio.

 

~

 

This is but part of a young mans eternal life of damnation; There is so much more ahead in the future for you to know.. are you willing? Or have I frightened you enough?

 

~

Chase Casas Shay Matthews; born November 10^th 1987; died January 13^th 2005

Currently; 20 years of age [homus]; 3 years of age [nocturnus]

As dated; November 10^th 2007

 

Author's Note

a.r.w