Shakespearean Story

Chapter 26

   (Big time skip and a short emotional chapter incoming! I hope you guys will enjoy this)!

   ~ 1870 ~

   We've been traveling for 45 years with no luck in finding other vampires. We've gone to different countries and haven't succeeded. One thing's for certain, I ate well. The creeps didn't stand a chance against me.

   Currently, we are in Paris. I haven't been here in 79 years. Nobody recognized me, simply because all of the people I knew, including Manon, were dead. I'm mentally 105-years-old while physically being 20 still. I would be in shock if someone recognized me.

   After we moved into a house, I decided to take a stroll. Everything was familiar yet different. I can't believe it's been this long. I stopped by familiar looking areas, including my old house, which was still there. I'm surprised it was still around and looked great and not dilapidated. I had horrible memories there but eventually had great ones later because of one singular vampire.

   I walked around some more and saw the mansion where I met Lestat. Where I attended that masquerade ball with Georges after he forced me to go. I hate him, but I am grateful to him for forcing me to go. I looked at the outside area, where Lestat and I talked and he killed Georges. Tears streamed down my face as I reminisced about our first meeting. How I wish he was still here.

   I clutched my necklace that he gave me on our one year anniversary. That was one thing I had left of him other than clothes of his that still smell like him. I walked away, not wanting to further be reminded of the pain.

   This pain was the absolute worst pain that I've ever gone through. Not even the pain of losing my parents was like this. I lost the love of my life. And it shouldn't have happened.

   I could remember the many dates we had in the cool, Paris night air. So many beautiful nights we spent together throughout the six years we lived here. Then we moved to New Orleans, which would later be a decision that would kill him 79 years later. 45 years later, the pain is still fresh. The wounds are still open, never to be closed again.

   (Man poor Charlotte! Super depressing. I hope you guys enjoyed this though! See you guys on Friday)!