AN ALMOST EMPTY HOUSE
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Ongoing, First published Jun 21, 2024
I was a Mortuary Transporter. I was ok with many jobs removing bodies from homes. I have mostly removed elderly people who have just died in their sleep. It was tame and I had no problem meeting families and comforting them and helping them mourn and they were so thankful. But I had this one job that made me rethink my job, life, and faith. And if we actually die, or does our boby die with our soul trapped in the rotten corpse? Can someone possess their own body after they die? Am I dead?
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Let me tell you what it was to be made vampire. It wasn't birth. Birth implies pushing, tearing forth into the light, screaming. Becoming immortal was to be pulled, to be tugged irrevocably into darkness, and it was silent. I should have fought, any person should fight, but my mind had been filled with a hazy calm which forbade any battle. Struggling had been the last thing on my mind, even when my bus arrived and my assailant waved it on, dismissing my last hope of escape. Yet my lack of rebellion was far from the most unsettling part of the stranger's control over me. The truth was that the man could've asked anything of me and I would've complied, but he didn't need to vocalise his request. I knew instinctively what he wanted. I sighed and surrendered myself as he held me against his front in a lover's embrace, tipping my head and willingly giving him access to my throat. "One day you'll understand," he whispered, his tone subdued. I've often wondered since if he was really talking to me. Perhaps he'd been talking to himself, persuading himself that one day I'd know and accept his reasons for what he'd planned for me. I wouldn't. I couldn't. Because when my fangs came in, my world altered irrevocably. It became somewhere dark, somewhere filled with murder and blood, where magic was sinister and where even my closest ally seemed more like an enemy... Even if he did make my heart skip a beat. VAMPIRE/PARANORMAL/URBAN FANTASY