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individulsong

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Perfection, my child, is more than what it seems. You can mold it into something beautiful, something rare, something that belongs to you forever. Ah yes, perfection. The want of something more from a lonely soul washed away in the wind night after night. But alas! Where are my manners? Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Vandoule. I am a vampire, trapped within the blessed curse of darkness. Sensational only for a few moments until human screams smother you, and you flee to a safe haven, unhappy, unsure, and undead. Don’t underestimate me, love, for the power of darkness becomes embedded in your soul to where you cannot live without it, no matter how disgusted you feel. You thirst for blood. You seek affection. You require human flesh beneath your fingers to caress and to hold. But after all is said and done, you are left with nothing but yourself; a living corpse of what was, representing nothing more than hell itself. But in my many millennia, I have found one constant that has kept me satisfied. Perfection. Let it linger on the tip of your tongue. Let it tingle your body. Yes, perfection, and it all starts with a young, beautiful, woman….

Dear Diary,

            It is March 14 1892. I am well aware that father does not approve of me becoming a dancer, but I am ready to disprove his theory at whatever the cost. I love dancing! He is always saying things such as, “Olivia, I shan’t have you be seen in such awful costumes!” or “A fine English woman is not brought up to go dancing in front of hooligans!” I fear that father has one view and one view only on my dream. He doesn’t see what I see, which I suppose is to be expected. He is my father after all. I do not doubt that he is concerned for my well being, but he need not worry. I will be able to manage. There is a man I met in town today, just off the river in Macington. He told me he would be able to make all my dreams come true. Father has warned me about strange men like this, but this one made me feel so assured. I believe he will be able to help me. He said his name was Vandoule. He has short black hair and wore all black. He seemed so well taken care of. Anyone who looks, or even speaks like Mr. Vandoule must be of some importance somewhere. All of my dreams will come true, and I will help father pay for mother’s medical bills. I will be sorry to leave her side. She is very ill. Tuberculosis, the doctor had said. But I am not worried! All will be well! I will dance, and Mr. Vandoule said he would be able to make me rich and famous. Father won’t have to worry anymore, and we will all live very happily. If I had not met Mr. Vandoule, who knows where I would be?

Olivia was a naïve simpleton. I assured her, yes. Brought her into my web, wooed her, if you will. There she was, her long brown hair atop her head in a tight bun, the bottom of her dress splashing in the puddles left behind from a vigorous storm.  She stood alone, gazing at a pair of ballet shoes in a store window.

            “You seem fixed on a pair of pink pointers, young one.” Her shock was immediate, but the minute she looked up at me, she smiled, blushing and turning her face away.

            “Yes, Sir. I would like them very much.” I edged in closer to her. She backed away slightly, but not too far to where I could not touch her right shoulder.

            “My dear, all your dreams can come true if you believe they will.” She gazed at those ballet shoes. I felt the wind swarm around her, begging me to take all that I had and invest it. “And I can help you.” It was a whisper, but she heard it; pink cheeks, green eyes, and an innocence that rounded her beauty.

            “Oh, really? Sir, that would mean so much to me! Father would disapprove, but he would understand once he sees me dance!” I watched her excitement grow. She twirled in a circle, the wind licking the edge of her dress, rising it high.

            “My name is Vandoule. Meet me tomorrow night at 9. Right here. Those will be yours, my dear. All will be yours.” I left her, but her thoughts were still with me. She was swimming in a pool of mingled confusion, fear, and excitement. I had her.

I live nowhere but where I am. I am constantly in darkness, gathering my beauties. I had to wait until I saw Olivia again, to mark her. I saw a child without her mother wandering the streets. She was crying. I am not a vicious animal, but my love, I am what you are not.

            “Come, my child. I will help you.”

            “Where is my mum?”

            “I know where she is. Come take my hand.” And she did, condemning herself into a devil’s world.