Sometimes I wonder what my life would have been like if I died in 1820 like I was supposed to.
By then what was left of my family had died of pneumonia. My father was the first to go, He just dropped dead one day. As modern technology has grown I've learned that he most likely died from an allergic reaction of some sort; we just couldn't help him back then. My mother and younger sister were next. They died with their arms wrapped around each other in bed, both suffering from coughing fits and chest pains.
Then it was just me. Alone in the small house we had all shared and grown up in together. I was never the type to like killing or particularly enjoy hunting with my father; so when I was alone I no longer had anything to provide for our market stall. I had no notable skills. With no money for food and no knowledge of hunting, I knew that I would join my family soon enough.
With that in mind, I grabbed the last of my father's rope that had been lying on the patio for the last 3 seasons past, went to the large dry oak tree in the yard, and ended my mortal life.
YOU ARE READING
work of art
RomanceMelchior is a 203-year-old vampire. One of the oldest. He's a man of few words with a tragic backstory, and the scars to prove. He believes that he is too old for a mate, so he instead focuses on leading the compound, the stomping grounds for vampir...
