[The story is based on Anne Rice's Interview With The Vampire the AMC series]
During the 1870s and '80s, it gave rise to the Industrial Revolution which paved way to the concept of capitalism dominated by social elites: the aristocrats - who played...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
MORNING WAS ONLY STARTING when I weakly scampered through the streets. I was bleeding from my stab wound on my stomach, and from the cuts on my face and back, while the sun was washing away my skin into ash. My gray residue was being blown by the passing wind as I ventured, appearing like I was transforming into a flowing dust, traveling by the end of time.
The quarter was still quiet and empty, people were still probably sleeping from last night's carousing - except for the ones who had work for the day. A few of the shop owners opening their place early in the morning, stared at me in bewilderment and inquisitiveness seeing my inexplicable state. I could only avoid eye contact as I continued to peruse the street. However, I could no longer hold it anymore. My endurance was tested when one of my arms started to lit up in flames. I immediately rushed to a shaded part of an alley, hiding in the shadow of a building.
"Are you alright, my dear?"
I looked up from where I was crouching and met the kind eyes of a woman. She was dressed in the finest silk and jewelries, something that told me she was someone from the middle class. Her hair was as black as night with curls as wild as the waves. Her skin was giving a soft glow under the sun, complimenting her complexion, dark as the depth of the ocean. She looked like a sea nymph, soaked in the warmness of the sunlight, and gracefully slight as the flowing water. I was awestruck.
But she got horrified when she saw some parts of my burnt skin. "My God! Here, let me help you!" She immediately took off her shawl so she could put it around me. "And heavens! Are you bleeding? What happened?"
"I...uh...toxic marriage?"
I watched her dismay play out on her precious face as she frowned and shook her head. "That's outrageous! Tell me you're leaving him!"
"I am leaving him."
"Good. You don't deserve this treatment. Do you want us to report him??"
"Oh no, it's alright."
"No, it's not alright! Look at you!"
I touched my stomach - the wound was now closing by itself; the only thing that was remaining was the blood stain on my white clothes. "I'm fine, really."
"You don't look fine. Your skin is burnt and you're bleeding. Let me at least help you before we part ways. Because I can't, in my good conscience - just leave you." She then offered her hand to me. "Come, come, I'll bring you to my house to treat you - my carriage awaits us."
I needed some place to pass the day. So, I took this opportunity. I accepted this kind woman's offer, then went with her inside her carriage - safe from the glaring sun.
While we were riding through the street, the kind woman introduced herself as Florence - the wife of a wealthy man who owned two indigo plantations. For someone who was in a good standing in a society, she was benevolent and altruistic. She was a woman who gladly supported other women, and as I took a glimpse in her mind, I saw that she was indeed genuinely generous as she was actively participating charitable events - without feeling like it's a burden. I liked Florence. Florence was nice. And pretty.
