Dawn Nightmares

Trailing blood on ancient map

I was in my bed looking at the ceiling above me. It was already morning, the birds were chiming their notes awaking the living.
I laid there and thought of the faithful day and what was needed to be done by her and her group of soon to be runaways. It had to be done and it was she ever wanted the only runaway part.

Yesterday had been a lot, I had learned a lot of things about my history and it wasn't good.

My mother was witch, a very powerful one at that because she possesses the power of the first vampire. Just like the stories Sister Lisa told. He indeed had killed my mother's first husband. "Where there is rage there is defeat" Sister Lisa had said "it depends on you if you will be the defeated. Using black magic, she sent the old mighty vampire back to hell and the power of the vampire entered her in a flash.

~*~

Sixteen years ago Clara Brown

Limping with one leg that still felt like falling down
Looking for the home and an old friend
Clara Brown eyes red, the hair on her skin awake
And staring at the darkness that danced
The moon that hide and birds that died
On her way to home
She found an old friend with a wide eyes
Clara Brown screamed from the needle that pursed
The portions that burned like two opposites repeal
She stared at the old friend and said
“Sister Rita, heal my abomination
And she with her sisterly powers, she was healed
Then she lived in the far north
...

~*~

Sister Lisa had told us the poem and had told us the story of the poem. Clara Brown, my mothers maiden name. Lost everything and by taking the root of rage, she lost even what she called nothing.

Once, she was ashamed of being a witch, the only time she loved the feeling of it was when she burned the vampire to the ground. She lost her witchery powers and the new powers she so desperately wanted to be free from. But when she remarried a man from the north.

The growls were endless, as she passed by those of the north. They weren't a fun of witches and mostly a witch that would not be helpful because of her powerlessness.
She bore me and my father, a werewolf named me after his mothers name, Midzu. Meaning roots. I was Midzu North howlers before I was Thabo the orphanage creep.

When he died in a war with vampires, the Northerners, the werewolfs caged in me, werewitch and part vampire they planned to execute me together with my mother. Sister Lisa said I was 4, mother had regain her vampire powers with rage us they were about to kill me.

Holy water was poured like an endless stream in her weakened body that was weakened by the pure iron chains that held her body in whizzing breaths.

It was only whispering rumors about a place on a high with wands even the most powerful witch or vampire would breach assuming she finds the place because it was a secret. A place were abominations like half creeps became useful.

That was how I came about in the orphanage. And the fact that Sister Lisa was in contact with my mother was a lie. She too didn't know where she went after staying in the north. She was the old friend in the poem. My mother’s cousin.

My mother block out of the chain and burned down the dungeons they were keeping her. When she find me she vanished to nothingness and no one heard of her since.

Until today.