Wednesday, 29 October 2008

  • Prologue to my Novel

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                As a human being I used to believe that I was immortal, that I was immune because of my luck. Of course that wasn’t the case because humans are fragile, with their bodies’ so easily broken. I was ignorant then, believing that there weren’t any consequences for my actions. It wasn’t until my death where I finally faced the truth, which was that life is full of consequences and I was no where near invincible.

    I never gave much thought to my actions while I was living. My life more or less was empty. I had no family since I was an orphan from a very young age, and the people who had raised me just did not care. I had never seen the world clearly through my eyes because of all the things that had gone wrong during my childhood, so as a teenager even to my young adulthood where my life came to a halt, I had the tendency to live by my own rules. I disliked authority and didn’t give a damn about other people’s lives.

    I had been a kid who was extremely lucky for being unlucky in terms of my situation. I always seemed to manage to get out of a situation without the consequences most would have to face. This was most likely the root of my ignorance as a teenager, believing that no matter what I did could not harm me or cause any consequences.

    I often ponder the reason why I was given a second chance. When I died that day it was only the end of my human life, but why was I given a new life? I certainly did not deserve the second chance especially because of how wretched of a human being I had been while alive. Even though many moons have passed since then, I still find myself in disgust about what I had once been, a monster of my own sorts.

    I’ve been told many times that everything happens for a reason, that my human life was just the prequel to my greater story as an immortal being--a vampire. I however, do not believe this. What could possibly be my purpose here on Earth? I cannot begin to logically grasp the idea that any good can come from what I am, a monster.

    Why would I be meant to slaughter countless innocent people while I was a living, breathing human being only to become a blood-thirsty, soulless immortal? The irony in all of it however, is that even with becoming something that while I was alive I idolized, I am appalled at the very thought of using my enhancements of sorts as some choose to call it. Some call it a blessing, I call it a curse. 

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