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<div style="border:1px #ccc solid; background-image:url('/images/ray.gif'); font-family:arial; width:200px; padding:5px;"><center><div style="font-size:20px;"><a href="/story/individulsong/46162">Vandoule (Pt. 15)</a></div><table><tr><td width="50"><div style="color:#2CC362; font-size:15px; padding-top:4px; background-image:url('/images/profratebg.gif'); background-repeat:no-repeat; width:44px; height:26px; text-align:center; font-weight:bold; vertical-align:middle; padding-top:8px; padding-left:1px; " valign="top">18</div></td><td><div style="height:100px;width:100px; padding-top:9px; background-repeat:no-repeat; background-image:url(/images/storyCover.png);"><a href="/story/individulsong/46162"><div style="margin-left:9px; __padding:0px; height:90px; width:70px; background-repeat:no-repeat; background-image:url('http://www.testriffic.com/storyfiles/46162.jpg');"></div></a></div></td></tr></table></center></div>

+ 18	Vandoule (Pt. 15)
+ 25	Vandoule (Pt.14)
+ 28	Vandoule (Pt.13)
+ 28	Vandoule (Pt.12)
+ 30	Vandoule Pt. 11
+ 30	Vandoule (Pt. 10)
+ 41	Vandoule (Pt.9)
+ 42	Vandoule (Pt.8)
+ 38	Vandoule (Pt.7)
+ 41	Vandoule (Pt.6)
+ 41	Vandoule (Pt.5)
+ 27	I am the Boy (Pt. 3)
+ 41	Vandoule (Pt.4)
+ 45	Vandoule (Pt.3)
+ 36	I Am the Boy pt.2
+ 51	Vandoule (Pt.2)
+ 53	Vandoule
+ 38	I Am the Boy
+ 23	Reita Simmons pt.2
+ 31	Reita Simmons

Darkness only hides so much, and from the eyes of those accustomed, nothing can be hidden. Protected only by the minutes of time, Vandoule and Olivia lay close, side-by-side on the marble floor of the Court House, both realizing the danger that was lurking within the seconds of each ticking tock.

 

Malicio, on the other hand, was out, basking in what joy he found in being the undead amongst the living, seeing the desirable beauty in the taste of blood he had forgotten. Rashel’s body, though small, worked to his advantage, trapping and ensnaring the bemused and the ignorant in a false luxury of security with her smile. He walked down the many streets, watching as the lights went out in each window, sneering at the children that looked out of their windows and saw the wandering, blonde haired child. What a sight they must have seen! Rashel’s body, though seemingly a child, was contorted in the face and in the eyes, showing not the simplicity of youth, but the harsh underbelly of malice.

 

What can we expect, knowing what he is after? The time lulls us slowly into a phase of monotony; the same air passing slowly through the streets of a silent town. Now, let me ask you all, what is love? What is love in your eyes? Is it a feeling, is it action, is it passion, is it all of these? What is love to Vandoule, Olivia, Malicio, or even Rashel? Are they capable of feeling true love, if their souls are darkened and marked with the lust of death? This is the puzzler, is it not? Vandoule, feeling so much compassion for Rashel, feeling so many bonds between Olivia and himself; but was it real to them, or even, is it real to you?

 

The heavy wooden clock, standing in the back of the Court House, chimed 4 in the morning before Olivia stirred. It is a common belief that vampires do not need sleep, and in most cases, it is the truth, but under great stress, a new fledgling will often par-take in the human task, trying to find some hope in a lost cause. Olivia stretched her arms, pointing her toes out and flexing her long legs before she opened her eyes.

            “Vandoule?” She whispered, expecting his comforting hand upon hers, his soft voice to reassure her not to worry. She waited, laying her hand flat against her side, searching with it, trying to find the touch she so desperately longed for. Slowly, her head turned to find the open space beside her. She sat up, bewildered for a few moments, searching with her mind to hear his thoughts, to see where he was, but she was blocked. She could hear nothing but static. She looked back and forth, all around her. She was completely alone.

 

Meanwhile, Vandoule was wandering the streets, his hands in his pockets, mimicking the sight of a lonely drunkard ashamed of his past and not willing to admit the ugliness of his future. He walked; blocking all thoughts and all sounds, save for one cry that brought his agony deeper into an unforgettable ache.

 

Vandoule, I am here. Please listen! Where am I?

 

He listened with the will to help, but no will to fight.

 

Please, don’t forget me! I will stay with you forever, please just help me!

 

I have often wondered if he knew where he was going, or if his feet were dragging him to the specific place, his legs wandering forward while his mind was off somewhere else contemplating the night of his departure. What if I had never left home? He thought to himself. What if I had saved my judgment, and stayed with my brothers and sisters? I would not be who I am! Olivia would still be free, safe within her fantasies, and Rashel, my beautiful Rashel; her cries would be non-existent and would not reach me.

 

I’m sure Vandoule has not told you his entire story. Do you know of his childhood, and of his life? How he became the dark soul you have seen? No, I am sure he has not. It haunts him, for, if he had not been a selfish human being, he would not have created this, or so he believes. Vandoule has the look of a tall, young man. It is so that when Olivia met him, she perceived his wisdom older beyond his years, but his gentle features displayed twenty-five.

 

Vandoule was not a privileged child, and his many brothers and sisters made it hard for him to cope with his surroundings. You see he was a middle child. Not the eldest, but not the youngest, and mediocre tasks were his to handle.  I am sure you have noticed that Vandoule is not one to sit around, not one to wait for what he wants, though his past story has made it clear to us that sometimes I’m sure he wished he had more patience.  But it is the lack of this that drove him away from his family obligations, that drove him away from his duties as a brother; as a son, and that drove him directly into the arms of the mysterious and alluring Nandina.

Trust was not something that was always welcome in the time of Vandoule’s human life, and it was more often than not the starting point of false-hood. And though this was a common factor in the people, everyone trusted everyone else, and everyone had the same false-hood in doing so. Perhaps Vandoule was more naive than we expected, or never grew out of his want of trust, but he trusted those that spoke to him of different realities, different worlds and experiences. He was tired of living his life with his family, taking care of things he felt were unimportant. He obviously did not see the bigger picture, for if he had, Nandina would not have captured him so easily.

It was a dark night, much like it always is in situations such as this, when Vandoule and his family sat beside a crackling fireplace inside a small, stonewall hut. The living room barely fit the six of them, and there were only two bedrooms: one for the four children and one for his parents. The outhouse was in the backyard, used by the community. Vandoule was sick and tired of living this way, as can be understood, but as much as we may understand, Vandoule did not understand the needs he met by his family’s standards.  Vandoule was the strongest out of his brothers, and the smartest. He enjoyed learning, as much was allowed back then, and he was very charming. He could talk his way into or out of anything, which for his parents was very fortunate. Paying for their small hut was nearly impossible, but Vandoule was always able to buy them a little more time. His wit and charm washed over all of the ladies, and the rich daughters of the expensive company owners were always after him. His parents urged him to choose one, not just for his happiness, but for their fortune obtained because of the marriage.

Perhaps it was unfair of his parents to feel that way, but it was not uncommon in that time for marriage gifts to be given to parents, such as gold and silver coins, or parts of property. It was a way of buying into the family. But Vandoule would have none of it. He fancied the girls, of course, and take them, he did, but he would leave them just as fast as he would take them, and soon, scandals rumors were roaming about the town. Vandoule and his family were growing more and more desperate, and instead of picking them up, he left them behind.

The wind blew cold and brisk as he walked quickly along the dirt road out of town, leading to an old tavern, that, usually, only passersby would stop at. The wind blew into his face, making his eyes water, his teeth chatter, and his nose red. But he wrapped his coat tighter around him, and he carried his small cloth bag tight to his chest. All of his belongings: a diary, a blanket, a canteen, six coins, and a few soda crackers. Where he was headed, he had no idea, but the exhilarating feeling of leaving was what drove him farther and farther down the path as his struggling family lay sleeping on dirty pallets on a stone cold floor.

 

I am sure you can only imagine what was awaiting him when he stepped into the tavern. The dark musty light shone over the bar, and cast a shadow on each of the five tables around the room. The small fire place barely had a fire, and the small cackles and pops grew more and more distant the longer Vandoule stood in the door way. Here was a young man, unsure of his future, and sure of his life, standing in a darkened tavern, searching for something, but not knowing what it was he was searching for. Sounds like the Vandoule we have come to know, does it not? Since human-hood, he had been searching for something he could not define. He was longing for a different kind of experience, but he had no feeling for what it was he longed for.

 

Ignorance like this is very dangerous, and can make a mind idle to plain danger. Nandina did not plan for Vandoule to walk into the tavern, nor was she planning on taking notice of him, but as we have seen, Vandoule has not always made the best of decisions, and with his ego flustered, he has made very rash ones. Nandina sat in the back corner of the tavern, a beer mug in her hand, filled to the brim with the golden brown, bubbly liquid, oozing over the top, untouched as her hand lay perfectly still over the handle. Her eyes lazily glanced up to take Vandoule in. At first glance, he was uninteresting to her, and she put her head back down, but all he did was stand in the doorway.

 

The door shut behind him with a low thud, the lock clicking into place with the door handle. Vandoule stood motionless, taking in his surroundings, unsure if he should sit, or walk back out. He stood there, mumbling to himself. The bar tender stood at the bar, his chin propped against his hand, his elbow on the counter, his eyes half open, a sleepy murmur coming from his lips. Nandina waited for him to move, but Vandoule did not.

            “Are you lost?” Her magnetic voice echoed throughout the room, and the bar tender jumped up from his daydream, knocking over a small jar half full of coins. Vandoule was shocked by her voice, for he had not noticed her sitting there, the shadows concealing her.

            “Eh, no. I know where I am, Miss. Thank you.” He replied. He took a table next to the door and waved for the bar tender to come to him. He ordered a bubbly beer, and pulled out his diary. Nandina, aware of his thoughts, soaked up his oblivious praise word for word.

 

As I sit in this darkened barroom, and odd sort of place, and one that I am not accustomed to, I have come across a most remarkable woman. Her hair is long and a dark chestnut color; the look so soft to touch it would be a sin. Her skin so pale and white, that any light shone upon her makes her glow like an angel, or what I believe an angel should be. Her lips are as red as a drop of blood on a rose pedal, meshed into one being. Oh, and her voice! That beautiful voice resonates in my ears and I can hear the sweetest symphony. My heart is melting, just glancing over at her. Perhaps she is the reason I have come here. Perhaps she is the path I have been looking for.

 

As Vandoule called Olivia a naïve simpleton, we too can look upon him in this situation and name him the same thing. Nandina listened to his thoughts as he scribbled away impatiently in his diary, every so often glancing up to look upon her glorious being. She sat there, waiting. He intrigued her, and intrigue is all she needed.

            “So why are you traveling, and all alone at such a late hour?” She said, picking herself up from her chair and slowly strolling to Vandoule’s table. He watched her, not aware of how she floated across the floor, no sound of footsteps could be heard.

            “I…I… I am on my way to a new discovery, Miss.” He quickly picked up his diary and fumbled with the latch, trying to be hasty so as not to have her see the contents he had just written inside. She smiled, her brilliant white teeth breaking through his defense immediately.

            “How fantastic! Do you mind, young sir, telling me of your travels?” She glided and placed herself on the opposite side of the table. Vandoule was flabbergasted. He fumbled with his words, unable to explain his ideas, his uncertainties, and his plans to the goddess that sat before him.

 

This, I am sure, is a side of Vandoule you have never seen before. Humans differ from vampire forms, as we all know, but most do not realize that essentially, all human instincts are taken away and the only thing that is left is the drive and the lust. For what, it could be anything. Mostly, it is the lust for blood, but as we have seen many vampires have a drive and al lust for certain human beings themselves. But that is all they know, and all they focus on. A human mind is so much more complex. Thought is an essential element, and over-thinking, too, comes into play.

 

As Vandoule sat there, his mind filled with so many anxieties. He had never traveled before. He had no direction to where he was going, and his tongue was tied as he looked up and saw the mysterious, beautiful woman taking interest in him. I am sure you all understand a lie, and one told to boost confidence at that. Vandoule, feeling beneath Nandina’s praise, finally used his wit and good charm to ensnare her, and if he had not, I am sure she would have found him uninteresting.

            “My kind lady, please, won’t you tell me your name first?” Vandoule finally lay his hands directly in his lap and smiled is flashing smile and his eyes began to shine bright. His youth and his looks, and how quickly he became relaxed and buoyant impressed Nandina. She took the hook.

            “My name is Nandina.”

            “Vandoule.”

            “So, Vandoule, tell me what you are doing in a tavern at such a late hour.”

            “I could ask you the same question.”

            “True, but is it not obvious? Perhaps we both are travelers. I do not tend to stay in one place for long.”

            “I never stay in one place for long. I am a free spirit. I always need to be on the move. I know there is something greater, something so much more fulfilling in other worlds.” Vandoule began to tell of a fantastical tale of his life in the Caribbean, searching for gold, but that it was not the right kind of experience. What a lie! And Nandina knew it, too, but she was interested. She laughed at his tales, not just because she knew they were untrue, but also because his physical appearance and charm set her desires burning.

 

The two of them sat in silence for a few moments, Vandoule finished with his tale, both beers untouched. Finally, Nandina rose from her chair and extended her hand. Vandoule lifted his head to look up into her dark eyes, so dark that he wondered if they were almost black (which I am sure at the time, they were completely black, but Vandoule would have found that absurd).

            “Come away with me, Vandoule. I will show you a world unlike any other you have ever seen. Everything is more desirable in this world, everything so much more full of exuberance, everything so much more full of magic. Come, take my hand and I will show you!” Vandoule, without even thinking first what kind of world she would take him to, what kind of life he was choosing for himself, stood up and took her hand. She smiled, and laughed a most triumphant laugh. I have to say, it was quite frightening, though Vandoule was oblivious to any logic at that time. Nandina’s hair flew about her as they walked outside, Vandoule shivering from the cold, even with his jacket, but Nandina facing the wind as if it did not exist. Her eyes were blacker than black, so full of lust for his blood, for his charm. She wanted to own him. Again, not much different from the Vandoule we had a glimpse of in the beginning, the obsessive vampire full of want of perfection. I can only imagine how that desire was birthed.

            “What a wonderful young man you are, Vandoule.” She breathed into his ear, pulling him faster and faster along a wooded path.

            “Thank you.” Was all he could muster, trying to conserve his energy for walking as fast as Nandina, his legs beginning to tremble from the excessive cold.

 

Only a few minutes went by until Vandoule spotted a clearing with a cabin, a fireplace burning bright, the smoke from the chimney puffing up at a steady rate.

            “Please, let us stop here. I am cold, as I am sure you must be too. Perhaps the person inside will welcome company.” Nandina was uncaring to Vandoule’s human instincts. She growled low in her throat. At this time, Vandoule finally began to see what she truly was.  Her eyes were like black holes inside of her head, her lips quivering, her teeth, once a brilliant smile, now full of two sharp fangs and a face only animals would wear. No more obliviousness. No more beautiful words about the woman before him. He ran. Vandoule ran as fast as he could. It wasn’t until he was lost in the woods she had brought him to that he realized she had not followed him. He hid behind a large tree, hugging onto it, wishing it would hide him completely, and then, he heard the sound, the sound that tore his beating heart in two.

            “Where is my mum? Please, where is she?” A young girl, screaming for her mother. Crying, an explosion. Vandoule’s tears were streaming down his face. The family in the cabin. He knew she was attacking them. He slowly crept from behind the tree, and wiped away his tears. His walk was slow but determined. He could smell smoke, and realized that the cabin was on fire. Nandina has a blonde haired child by the hair, lighting the house filled with dead bodies on fire with propane gas. Her laugh was atrocious, and Vandoule felt the strongest grief he had ever felt. The young child reminded him of his youngest sister, Mary Beth. What have I done? He thought to himself, horrified that he could leave his family behind. There was no turning back.

            “Nandina, stop!” He bellowed over the sound of the raging fire. She turned to him, her fangs still out in the open, her eyes still full of lust.
            “Ah, come back to me I see. No matter. I would’ve found you no matter where you were to go.”

            “Let the girl go.” Vandoule stood his ground. He knew she was a monster, and that this family had died with no grace, and for no reason.

            “What for? Let her go? Where will she run? Who does she have? No one.”

            “She will have me.”

            “You? Oh, my dear precious Vandoule. You are as good as dead.” And at that, she flung the girl into the flames with a flick of her hand, the small child landing with a thud inside of the house, screaming with the pain, but, after a few seconds, silence.

            “NO!” Vandoule lunged for her, but he was too late. His tears came again, his bravery defeated, his weakness taking hold. Nandina strolled up to him.

            “You are too perfect to let go, Vandoule. Don’t you see that?” She pulled him up and felt the right side of his neck. Vandoule stared at the crumbling house, his grief inconceivable. Nandina could smell his blood.

            “You are a monster.” He finally mustered, though not strong enough to fight her hold on him.

            “Oh, no, Vandoule. I am not a monster. I am a Vampire.” And then, she bit sucking him so hard, feeling the full ecstasy. And Vandoule, though in pain, in grief, felt a strong pleasure, a tickle throughout his body, until he felt too weak to ride on that emotion any longer. “You see, Vandoule,” she continued, “ I am so much more than anything you will ever know. And now, in death, you will be the same.” He looked up at her, his vision blurred by blood loss. Her face was bloody, his blood dripping from her the corners of her mouth, her eyes slowly deluding to a soft hazel. She took him in her arms, and slit her wrist with her teeth. Vandoule knew what she would ask of him.

            “No, I will not.”

            “Do not fight it, Vandoule. It is your calling.” She pressed the blood to his lips, and though he wished he could fight it, he could not. As soon as the first drop hit his throat, he was after the next and the next and the next, the lust for it so powerful, the feeling of it so magnificent. Nandina pulled her arm away.

            “More. Give me more.” He groaned.

            “No, no. You have much to learn.” She picked him up and sped away from the burning cabin. One glance at the cabin and Vandoule knew he was not the same. As they sped away, he felt no remorse for leaving his family. All he that was on his mind was the lust for blood. “You will truly be a perfect vampire. Truly a perfect vampire.” She cooed. He closed his eyes, sleep stealing his sight, until finally, he saw no more.

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