Anna
by
Lisa McDonald
by
Lisa McDonald
CONTEST
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The glint in Anna’s eyes as well as the coppery taste in her mouth reminded her of what she
had become over the years. She was bitter towards mortality, yet tolerant of it for personal
existence. She needed mortals more then they needed her, and yet, her quest for one
companion never seemed to end. Year after century, she had still come up empty until this
clouded night. It was unclear what happened this time, some seven hundred years after her
birth in to kindred society, but this mortal was different.
He introduced himself as Pete, short version of Peter coming from a popular 18th century
Russian name, reminding her of long walks through St Petersburg, the window to Europe,
before the Petrograd riots of 1917. He spotted her relaxing in the smoky lounge of another
dim bar, looking particularly bored. What sustained her interest in his approach was the
personality that exuded from his presence. Eyes turned to him as he walked, fancying his
raven locks cropped neatly, eyes the color of iced sapphires and the swagger of an Irish
hooligan. He seemed an easy meal, but as she watched him, she was suddenly not hungry; at
least not for sustenance in her belly. There was desperation at work, and when he
approached with introduction, a simple smile made her crave it even more.
The loss of her sire some five hundred years prior had left her in shock, so much so, that she
had never produced offspring of her own. When it came to kindred reproduction, it was
unlike any other creature in the world. Mortals, animals, even reptiles reproduced to keep
their populous in tact, but kindred only created chylder for selfish reasons alone. Vampires
created children to relieve boredom and loneliness, and at this moment, the handsome Pete
seemed to be the answer to her tribulation.
The introduction swelled to a full blown conversation between the two, Pete enjoying the
ancient flare in her voice that fluttered between painted lips. He locked with her eyes that
were as green as the fields of Avignon and long locks of fiery curls that dripped like velvet at
paled shoulders. She was most impressed by his confidence and that he would dare approach
her, instead of her tracking down her own prey. He was mature, older then most young
Casanovas she found most pleasing for a meal. She knew the younger mortals never made
for good chylder as foolish thoughts and impulsive behaviors always seemed to drown them
in excesses of immortal life. She had seen friends who sired children either abandon or
destroy the chylder due to excesses of flesh and blood, sex and depravation of the soul. Pete
was different. He was educated, and their conversation of history; his knowledge from
study, hers from living it; took them from the dark bar back to her flat a few blocks away.
Up the back alley stairs they went, opening the aged door to her flat, and with a protesting
creak, they went into her abode. A flicker of lights gave way to the tinkle of keys laid in a
brass bowl by the door, and as they came in, the conversation turned to a delicate and
emblazoned embrace. He moved with her to a velvet couch that was the mainstay of her
living room, gently laying her back against the soft pillows, but before he could go any
further, she would have to open up to him, to show him honesty and offer him a life beyond
what he could already fathom. Once given the option, he would have to make the choice for
himself; life, or death. She slowly pushed him back up, urging him to stop further
ministrations as she chastely tucked the strap of her dress back over her shoulder. She
purred to him like a cat rubbing against its master’s leg, using her hypnotic feminine wiles to
lull him back away from libidinous desires.
“My darling Peter, there is something you should know before any further steps are taken
tonight.” Her voice brushed against his ear like the tattoo of rain puttering against a thatched
rooftop.
His response was sanguine and relaxed as fingertips gently grazed against her porcelain
cheek. “Tell me Anna. Tell me quickly.”
“What I am to give you is a gift that no man should have, yet every man wants. With my
story comes a finality that you must either agree to, or disagree to, but know that I desire for
you to have it.”
Peter looked at her in wonderment, trying to determine what it was she was trying to tell
him. Was she married? Did she have an incurable disease? What could this secret be and
why did he suddenly feel incredibly out of step with the libido that had just arisen for her?
Timidly he pulled back away, arching a brow and nodding to concede.
“Alright then, what is it?”
She sighed looking towards the empty fireplace, recalling the story of her life and pushing it
on to his shoulders, so that he may now wear the crown of burden that would be his
decision. If he failed to comply, her desolateness would continue, but if he acquiesced, then
a new life would begin; for the both of them. Slowly her tongue turned in her mouth and the
truth would be spilled before him, laid out like a pool for him to dive in to or shy away from.
“I was born in the gaunt year of 1320, a few years after the great famine of 1317 to the
wealthy and quite notorious de Sade family, in Marseilles France. My sister was the beautiful
Laura de Sade and my cousin the infamous Marquis de Sade.”
She looked to him as he raised a brow to this incredulous story, but her hands indicated there
was far more to tell as she pushed them forward with a nod of her head.
“I only met my cousin once during the festival of Marseilles, and I was very young at the
time. Anyways, the year 1345 rolled around and I met a man that would change my life
forever, by the name of Andrew de Foray. He hailed from Wales and we met at a lavish
dinner party served at my father’s demesne in the fields just outside the township. The
manor was filled with all sorts, and this stranger seemed to sweep me off my feet. We
danced, drank, and eventually, in all French courtships, ended up in my bedchambers
entangled in one another. That is the night he gave me the same dark gift I offer to you.”
She smiled a bit, not because she was particularly happy, but because she needed to show
him the growth at her canines as the teeth extended into delicate, but razor sharp fangs. For
reasons unknown to the both of them, he stayed put to hear the rest of her story.
“He turned me, and we took advantage of overpopulated Paris, but it was only a few years
before the Great Mortality came to France. This left the people destitute, as well as all
vampires who were too scared to feed. The Black Plague wiped out populations of people
across Europe, and many of our own kind starved to death, even though we moved away
from the route. It followed us, but we could not escape the dark fist clenched over the
people, until finally, with clearance five years later, it was gone. Andrew and I managed to
survive on bare skin and bones, even taking to feeding on forest animals during the Plague,
but found ourselves back at his manor estate in Wales once again. We traveled quite a bit but
found ourselves back in England during the War of the Roses, where my darling Andrew met
his fate. He was killed by, nay, staked, during one of the revolutions in York, leaving me to
fend for myself.”
She looked to him to see if he had lost interest in her personal journey, but found he was still
transfixed, not just on the words, but her illustrious eyes that held strong.
“Well, either way, several hundred more years past, and being the executor of Andrews’s
estate in Wales entitled me to quite a bit of money. I used it to travel to Africa, Russia, Hong
Kong, and eventually to the United States. I saw the big quake of 1906, prohibition, civil war,
all of it, and quite alone.”
She looked wishfully in to his eyes, not particularly feeling the need to further her personal
history, as if he chose to be with her, there would be plenty of time for that. She had shown
him already she had the power of immortality, and now the offer would be placed before him.
“I no longer wish to be alone Peter. Come with me now. Come be mine and see the world
with me.”
Peter caved at her blush of words, effortlessly wrapping a strong arm around her waist and
pulling her close to him. The brush of lips against her forehead was enough to bring the
encounter to finality and for a moment, she believed that he would be the one to cure her
disease of barren heart. With fangs drawn and mouth open, she sliced a sliver of flesh open
along his throat, digging deeply, draining what she could from his beautiful body and laying
him back, deceased, against the soft, velvet pillows. His eyes were drawn shut and for a
moment, he looked like a stone God, carved from the finest Venetian marble as his skin paled
from the lack of blood. It was here, she would keep him forever, and it was here, with the
coppery taste in her mouth, she was reminded of simple mortality.
1637 words.
had become over the years. She was bitter towards mortality, yet tolerant of it for personal
existence. She needed mortals more then they needed her, and yet, her quest for one
companion never seemed to end. Year after century, she had still come up empty until this
clouded night. It was unclear what happened this time, some seven hundred years after her
birth in to kindred society, but this mortal was different.
He introduced himself as Pete, short version of Peter coming from a popular 18th century
Russian name, reminding her of long walks through St Petersburg, the window to Europe,
before the Petrograd riots of 1917. He spotted her relaxing in the smoky lounge of another
dim bar, looking particularly bored. What sustained her interest in his approach was the
personality that exuded from his presence. Eyes turned to him as he walked, fancying his
raven locks cropped neatly, eyes the color of iced sapphires and the swagger of an Irish
hooligan. He seemed an easy meal, but as she watched him, she was suddenly not hungry; at
least not for sustenance in her belly. There was desperation at work, and when he
approached with introduction, a simple smile made her crave it even more.
The loss of her sire some five hundred years prior had left her in shock, so much so, that she
had never produced offspring of her own. When it came to kindred reproduction, it was
unlike any other creature in the world. Mortals, animals, even reptiles reproduced to keep
their populous in tact, but kindred only created chylder for selfish reasons alone. Vampires
created children to relieve boredom and loneliness, and at this moment, the handsome Pete
seemed to be the answer to her tribulation.
The introduction swelled to a full blown conversation between the two, Pete enjoying the
ancient flare in her voice that fluttered between painted lips. He locked with her eyes that
were as green as the fields of Avignon and long locks of fiery curls that dripped like velvet at
paled shoulders. She was most impressed by his confidence and that he would dare approach
her, instead of her tracking down her own prey. He was mature, older then most young
Casanovas she found most pleasing for a meal. She knew the younger mortals never made
for good chylder as foolish thoughts and impulsive behaviors always seemed to drown them
in excesses of immortal life. She had seen friends who sired children either abandon or
destroy the chylder due to excesses of flesh and blood, sex and depravation of the soul. Pete
was different. He was educated, and their conversation of history; his knowledge from
study, hers from living it; took them from the dark bar back to her flat a few blocks away.
Up the back alley stairs they went, opening the aged door to her flat, and with a protesting
creak, they went into her abode. A flicker of lights gave way to the tinkle of keys laid in a
brass bowl by the door, and as they came in, the conversation turned to a delicate and
emblazoned embrace. He moved with her to a velvet couch that was the mainstay of her
living room, gently laying her back against the soft pillows, but before he could go any
further, she would have to open up to him, to show him honesty and offer him a life beyond
what he could already fathom. Once given the option, he would have to make the choice for
himself; life, or death. She slowly pushed him back up, urging him to stop further
ministrations as she chastely tucked the strap of her dress back over her shoulder. She
purred to him like a cat rubbing against its master’s leg, using her hypnotic feminine wiles to
lull him back away from libidinous desires.
“My darling Peter, there is something you should know before any further steps are taken
tonight.” Her voice brushed against his ear like the tattoo of rain puttering against a thatched
rooftop.
His response was sanguine and relaxed as fingertips gently grazed against her porcelain
cheek. “Tell me Anna. Tell me quickly.”
“What I am to give you is a gift that no man should have, yet every man wants. With my
story comes a finality that you must either agree to, or disagree to, but know that I desire for
you to have it.”
Peter looked at her in wonderment, trying to determine what it was she was trying to tell
him. Was she married? Did she have an incurable disease? What could this secret be and
why did he suddenly feel incredibly out of step with the libido that had just arisen for her?
Timidly he pulled back away, arching a brow and nodding to concede.
“Alright then, what is it?”
She sighed looking towards the empty fireplace, recalling the story of her life and pushing it
on to his shoulders, so that he may now wear the crown of burden that would be his
decision. If he failed to comply, her desolateness would continue, but if he acquiesced, then
a new life would begin; for the both of them. Slowly her tongue turned in her mouth and the
truth would be spilled before him, laid out like a pool for him to dive in to or shy away from.
“I was born in the gaunt year of 1320, a few years after the great famine of 1317 to the
wealthy and quite notorious de Sade family, in Marseilles France. My sister was the beautiful
Laura de Sade and my cousin the infamous Marquis de Sade.”
She looked to him as he raised a brow to this incredulous story, but her hands indicated there
was far more to tell as she pushed them forward with a nod of her head.
“I only met my cousin once during the festival of Marseilles, and I was very young at the
time. Anyways, the year 1345 rolled around and I met a man that would change my life
forever, by the name of Andrew de Foray. He hailed from Wales and we met at a lavish
dinner party served at my father’s demesne in the fields just outside the township. The
manor was filled with all sorts, and this stranger seemed to sweep me off my feet. We
danced, drank, and eventually, in all French courtships, ended up in my bedchambers
entangled in one another. That is the night he gave me the same dark gift I offer to you.”
She smiled a bit, not because she was particularly happy, but because she needed to show
him the growth at her canines as the teeth extended into delicate, but razor sharp fangs. For
reasons unknown to the both of them, he stayed put to hear the rest of her story.
“He turned me, and we took advantage of overpopulated Paris, but it was only a few years
before the Great Mortality came to France. This left the people destitute, as well as all
vampires who were too scared to feed. The Black Plague wiped out populations of people
across Europe, and many of our own kind starved to death, even though we moved away
from the route. It followed us, but we could not escape the dark fist clenched over the
people, until finally, with clearance five years later, it was gone. Andrew and I managed to
survive on bare skin and bones, even taking to feeding on forest animals during the Plague,
but found ourselves back at his manor estate in Wales once again. We traveled quite a bit but
found ourselves back in England during the War of the Roses, where my darling Andrew met
his fate. He was killed by, nay, staked, during one of the revolutions in York, leaving me to
fend for myself.”
She looked to him to see if he had lost interest in her personal journey, but found he was still
transfixed, not just on the words, but her illustrious eyes that held strong.
“Well, either way, several hundred more years past, and being the executor of Andrews’s
estate in Wales entitled me to quite a bit of money. I used it to travel to Africa, Russia, Hong
Kong, and eventually to the United States. I saw the big quake of 1906, prohibition, civil war,
all of it, and quite alone.”
She looked wishfully in to his eyes, not particularly feeling the need to further her personal
history, as if he chose to be with her, there would be plenty of time for that. She had shown
him already she had the power of immortality, and now the offer would be placed before him.
“I no longer wish to be alone Peter. Come with me now. Come be mine and see the world
with me.”
Peter caved at her blush of words, effortlessly wrapping a strong arm around her waist and
pulling her close to him. The brush of lips against her forehead was enough to bring the
encounter to finality and for a moment, she believed that he would be the one to cure her
disease of barren heart. With fangs drawn and mouth open, she sliced a sliver of flesh open
along his throat, digging deeply, draining what she could from his beautiful body and laying
him back, deceased, against the soft, velvet pillows. His eyes were drawn shut and for a
moment, he looked like a stone God, carved from the finest Venetian marble as his skin paled
from the lack of blood. It was here, she would keep him forever, and it was here, with the
coppery taste in her mouth, she was reminded of simple mortality.
1637 words.