Parallel World

Chapter 2

"This is where we will dance through the centuries," Lawrence said.

It was December 30, 1897, and we had travelled to Paris to see the New Year in. The Eiffel Tower was right behind us, the air was full of celebration and Lawrence and I had high hopes for our future.

Our families lived on the same street and we had known each other since childhood although we had never really spent much time together. Things changed four years earlier when, unbeknown to each other, we became interested in chemistry. Our parents, tired of hearing us talking about things they did not understand, suggested we talk to each other instead. It did not take long until there was another kind of chemistry going on between us.

Although we spent a lot of time in our lab studying and hoping to make a revolutionary discovery one day, it had not affected our relationship. When I got carried away with work I forgot Lawrence was there and vice versa.

Outside the lab, things were very different. We never ceased to show our love and affection. We were hopeless romantics and had dreamt about coming to Paris for a long time. We wanted to come back in two years time and celebrate the beginning of a new century by dancing underneath the Eiffel Tower. Sadly, it was not meant to be.

Although we carried out dozens of experiments and researches at the same time and considered ourselves smart, we lacked knowledge about side effects of different substances. We had never heard of radioactivity. We did not wear face masks or gloves and did not realise the damage we had inflicted upon ourselves.

In early spring 1898 Lawrence suddenly fell ill. The doctors were struggling to diagnose the illness as the symptoms were unusual. By the summer his health had deteriorated considerably and, as much as I hoped for a miracle, I knew he would not recover. Lawrence died on December 14, aged 25, surrounded by members of both families. I held his hand as he took his last breath and kissed him on the lips one last time.

By that time I was seriously ill myself. Dizziness, tiredness, nausea, vomiting - at first my family thought I was pregnant and shamed me. Later they realised the matter was far more serious and admitted they wished it would have been "only" a pregnancy. Me too. I would have much preferred to give birth to an illegitimate child and deal with the consequences than die prematurely from an unknown disease.

I had seen several doctors but they were all clueless as to what had caused my misery. Drugs only helped a little bit and I spent most of my time in bed.

Even now, 100 years later, I still do not know what exactly was the cause of the poisoning. My best guess is that it was an unfortunate combination of several chemicals we kept in the lab.

In late 1899 I knew the end was near. Instead of waltzing into 1900 I spent New Year's Eve sitting on the bay window in my bedroom, looking at cheerful Londoners and envying them.

The thought of death was scaring me and, as a coping mechanism, I started to go to a local cemetery. The first time I went and saw the graves and thought about all the people buried underneath I panicked and ran away. Later I accepted the fact that soon I, too, would join the deceased and could spend hours in the cemetery, pondering about life and death and not feeling the wind and the cold anymore.

One night, as I sat on a bench next to a grave, I suddenly realised I am not alone. I turned my head and saw a handsome, well dressed man. He had long light brown hair and very beautiful blue eyes.

"I was just passing by when I saw you. What brings such a lovely young lady to a place like this?" He asked as he sat next to me.

I looked at him and let him see all my sorrow. There was something about him that made me feel as if I had met someone who could understand me. He had a friendly, warm look and in a sudden burst of emotions I told him everything. He carefully listened, without interrupting me.

"I have accepted my fate, however, I cannot forget that not so long ago everything was different," I said. I doubted I would last until March 27, my 23rd birthday.

"What if you would not have to die?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"What if there would be a way to stay alive? What would you be ready to sacrifice for it? Would you be ready to leave your home, your family, your friends, everything that up until now has been your life and start a new one? A life that would never end."

Did I really hear that? He offered me an eternal life? For a second I thought I was hallucinating.

"I am not human. I know that in these circumstances it is difficult to prove, therefore..."

He breathed on me. It made me jump.

"Did I smell blood?"

"Yes. That is the price to pay for a chance to live forever."

I chose life. Mason, that was his name, turned me into a vampire and offered me to go with him. It was January 19, 1900.

He helped me to obtain a new birth certificate. I needed a new name and he gave me his surname. Elisa Anne Lestanheart became Elisa Anne Langdon. In a reverse story of a courting, we met first, then (formally) got married, then became close and became a couple. Mason lived together with a few other vampires. I stayed with them for fifteen years until I felt ready to live on my own and we parted ways.