Destined Part I

Awakening

I finally made it to the library, where I immersed myself in research. If I was one thing, I was organized. Everything could be researched, facts were the best answer. Lists and details and specifics, in my eyes, were a girl’s best friend. So if I could do anything about the predicament I was in, it was going to be to fill my head with the facts.

And that is just what I did.

I had a pile of books on my table after searching around for only a short time. I read about the folklore of vampires of the past, the characteristics they showed and how they became what they were. Many books explained about vampires in movies, the ones that sleep in coffins, the fact that they can’t be out in the sunlight without their skin burning, and how they are repelled by garlic and crosses. I laughed when I read that one. It seemed unreasonable even to me.

One book described what they called “real” vampires. I guess they thought Hollywood’s version of vampires was too unrealistic, so they went on to list more accurate characteristics, like being sensitive to light and sound, and having extraordinary healing abilities. They were supposedly more beautiful than humans, having a sort of otherworldly beauty to attract their prey. It also described in detail how they wouldn’t eat human food, because they hungered and ached for blood-and even became violent when their thirst became too strong to bear.

Unbelievably, I even found websites on the library’s computer where people went to confess their vampire tendencies. 

All of this seemed a bit mind-boggling and too far fetched to even be true, but one thing was sure. None of this made me feel any better about the dream, or about the way I was feeling today. If anything it made me more suspicious of what I didn’t want to believe could be true.

Sure, I threw up my breakfast this morning, but I had gone outside without my skin setting on fire. And I certainly had no desire to drink someone’s blood. That thought just plain grossed me out.

But why were my eyes so…sparkly? Why was my skin still so pale? Why did I sleep for three whole days and not wake up?

 Instead of reassuring me, the information I had dug up left me feeling a bit unsettled. There was something in the back of my mind that itched to come out, but I simply shrugged it off as anxiety about the whole situation.

To my disappointment, I ended up leaving the library with the same amount of questions that I entered it with.

The weather was still grim, and I ducked my head to avoid the rain as I rushed to my car. My feet sloshed through the puddles, soaking the bottom of my jeans. But I plodded forward, my legs growing heavier with each step. When I had just about reached my car, my heavy rain soaked jeans betrayed me, and I tripped over the gravel and fell hard on my hands and knees. A bit embarrassed, I jumped up, unlocked my car and dove in, not looking around to see if anyone witnessed my clumsiness. Luckily no one was looking my direction.

I turned the engine, relieved, and the old 1970 Corvette Stingray purred to life under my feet. The ‘vette was my dad’s car, his baby. At times he seemed to love it more than he did me. He would always be out in the garage doing something to this car. He even missed a few of my swim meets because he lost track of time working on it. I had grown attached to the Stingray, though. After driving it for a while, I soon could see why my dad spent so much time restoring it. It certainly did get a few looks when I drove it around.

Grabbing the wheel, I realized my hands were stinging a bit from my klutzy tumble and I looked down to assess the damage. I had fallen pretty hard. The skin on my hands was raw, and bleeding. I had to pick out pieces of gravel that were stuck in the palm of my hand, and the stinging forced me to drive the rest of the way home with just my fingertips.