NIGEL

CHAPTER 1: HELLO DARLINGS

I never thought I would write this story down, but they say if you have one, then it should be told. Many have asked me in my years, to relay to them my struggles and my history, though I don't understand why because I find it horribly depressing. However, I think it best for my mental health and to curb other people's appetites for information, to finally get this out in the open.
Sorry, I should probably introduce myself. I was born Nigel Hillshire, though over the years I learned that I hold the family name of Mallory. I have no titles, no home and no easy way for explaining what I am about to. I suppose it's only human for it to feel difficult talking about your past, though I'm not exactly human. I'm what they call a damphyr. That means a half vampire for those of you who don't read. How old am I? Honestly I couldn't tell you if I tried. I stopped keeping track of my age centuries ago. What I can tell you, is I have seen more than anyone should. Sounds dramatic I know, but it's true nonetheless.
Naturally, you are curious. I would be surprised if you weren't. The existence of a half vampire doesn't sit well for most people and I don't blame them. So, if you want to continue, please do. However, don't say I didn't warn you; I meant it when I said it's depressing. Also, try not to judge me too harshly. Thank you my darlings. Oh! I almost forgot! I've included some of my old sketches for you! Just to add to the "ambiance" so to speak. I am a man of substance after all. Sorry some of them are in a state of ware but you should enjoy them nonetheless. Okay, onward!
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Long before the creatures of darkness were shut out behind magical enchantments, people lived in fear; fear of the known. Nowadays, people live behind magical walls and have found ways to keep those who possess the powers of evil out of their towns. The only thing they fear now is the unknown, and the dragons that fly overhead, though even they can be dealt with. Back when I was born, we knew exactly what was out there, and it was more terrifying than anything. Because we knew, we couldn't escape or live in blissful ignorance behind enchanted city walls.
My earliest memory, and I can't say that I think about it too often, was when I couldn't have been any older than five. My mother and I lived in a relatively large village for the time. It was well protected in comparison to others, but that didn't mean we weren't afraid. She was a willowy woman, with pale skin and long fiery red curls. I thought she was beautiful, but then again I was just a child. The older I get the less I can picture her face. Honestly, I'm not sure I can remember her face at all anymore. All I can recall, is her long curly red hair.
We kept to ourselves, minded our own business, and my mother kept me locked inside most days. She would tell the neighbors that I was a sickly little boy and I couldn't be outside too often. On days she did let me out, they weren't very pleasant anyway. Some nights she would disappear and come back, fresh money jingling in her pocket, her expressions worn and tired. I knew she loved me more than anything and I obviously loved her too.
Every night my mother would put me to sleep in our one room shack, and tell me to stay brave. She would always say that one day she might be taken away, and I needed to be ready. "No mama!" I would cry, "Nobody is taking you away!"
She would hush me and tell me she didn't want to leave me. "We are safe for now," she would say, "And I'll do anything I can to keep us that way. But, one day, he'll come for us and I need you to keep yourself alive, even if I can't."
My eyes would tear up and I would hug her tight. I didn't know what she meant or why she was saying these horrible things to me. Who was this "He"? I always thought. I would protect us from him. He wouldn't hurt me or my mother, not as long as I was around. Ah, the innocence of a child.
As I grew older, I was starting to notice that I was much different from the other children in town. I was paler and quite frankly smarter. I understood things quickly and learning came easy, not that I had any legitimate education. I felt like mentally I was much older than my numerical age. I also figured out why my mother was always keeping me inside. It was because I couldn't stand being in the sun for too long. By the time I was eight, my thirst started to kick in. It was a painful, frightening experience. Imagine being starving all the time, but you can only curb your appetite for a few hours at most before you start getting desperate. In all fairness, I tried to control it for as long as possible because I didn't understand what it was. Until, one day I instinctively couldn't anymore and in a blink, I had one of the neighbor's chickens in my mouth.
I hid behind the house and devoured it within seconds, and my body felt instantly revived. I had never felt so healthy in my life. I thought I could punch right through a wall! But, I knew that what I'd done was wrong, so I continued to keep my desires hidden. It would become agonizing because my mother couldn't hug me the way she used to. I would insist she stay away from me; the sound of her heart beat and the smell of her pained me with every breath I drew. I would hold it so as not to pick up any alluring scents. I got rather good at holding my breath, but it wouldn't always help. My mother didn't understand what was going on with me, but I could see this worried look in her eyes which suggested she had her own suspicions.
I guess I proved her theory when she walked in the room to see me huddled in the corner sucking the blood out of a stray cat. She sat me aside and tried to explain to the best of her ability what she could. "You are too young to understand. I was terrified this would happen to you. You were such a normal baby that I hoped maybe you hadn't picked it up, but I knew in my gut that I was wrong. You must control yourself Nigel. I know it's difficult, but if you want us to stay here and be safe, you have to, please." She sounded desperate. To an eight year old, I was beyond scared and confused. I had so much responsibility on my shoulders! Our safety and lives depended on me being able to control an urge I didn't understand?!
"When you're a little older, I'll tell you everything. I love you," whispered my mother. I nodded, trying to seem calm but I still couldn't help but feel panicked. I didn't know if I was able to control myself. But, I would soon learn that my thirst for blood was oddly enough, the least of my problems.
That, my friends, is where the story really begins.