On the Eve of a New Life

Some events seem destined to change one’s life forever, whether you are the author of said events, or merely an observer of them.  On May 25th, 1895, another period of my life came to a close, and only a day later, a new one began.  Or perhaps I should say, a night.

It was a fair night, too.  Too fair for the blow that had just been dealt to the man I had so admired.  By rights, it should have been a downpour to match my mood.  I had been tempted, the night before, to run to Bosie’s house and demand that he do something to help Oscar.  But likely that would have only resulted in my own imprisonment, so I had kept away.

Instead, I found myself wandering the street near the men’s club where I had first met them both.  Oh, I was little like Bosie, and almost nothing like Oscar, but being near him had somehow elevated me.

Growing up a miner’s son, I had had only minimal schooling, and small chance of ever becoming anything other than what my father was.  Finding myself given no choice in the matter, I realized I dreaded the thought of wasting away the way my father was, coughing and dull from the mines.  My soul crushed the way my brother’s had been only a few years before.  So at fifteen, I departed with a single bag and two pounds in the middle of the night, hoping to somehow find my way in the city.

As you can imagine, two pounds disappeared in no time, and soon I found myself on the street; shabby, sleeping in doorways, my stomach always rumbling.  But I was young, and in fairly good condition, aside from a slight cough from time to time due to growing up near the mines.  And some had called me beautiful.  I was small for my age.  A turned up nose and tawny blond curls that seemed to draw great interest.  It was not long before someone approached me with the question of whether or not I was for sale for the evening.

I admit to being slightly sheltered from the idea before London, but by now, I’d seen other boys around my age, and how they made their money on the streets.  I’d been horrified at first, but after several nights with no money and only rubbish tins in which to find food, I knew there were only two options.  And there was no way I was going to take the first.  I wasn’t a theif.  Bracing myself, and praying to the God I hadn’t believed in since my mother’s death when I was eight, I agreed.

The man smelled, but he was generally clean.  And he expected nothing more than a handjob and a few sloppy kisses before he was done.  It was a bit disgusting, but nowhere near as bad as I had expected, and after, I had enough to rent a room for the night, and even some left over for breakfast the next morning.  Beyond that, I couldn’t let myself think on it much.  I had to survive.  And if this was the way to do it, then this was what I would do.

By the time I met Oscar, I was an old hand at it.  Perhaps not the highest paid on the street, but my look did a lot for me.  Apparently enough to catch his eye. 

I have to admit that the first time he hired me, I had no idea who he was.  He was just another client, if one of the better-dressed ones.  The experience was better than most.  He seemed almost to care for my needs as much as his own.  It felt—different.  After, he paid me enough that I was actually able to go without working for a few days, and the next time I saw him, I did my best to catch his eye.  That was when one of the other boys told me just who he was.  I’d heard the name, but realizing who he was left me a bit star-struck, I have to admit.  And the fact that he was such a kind man only fed the flames of my growing attraction to him.

He hired me several times over the years, and I found myself more than a bit attached.  Others chided me at my obsession with him.  A bad thing in my business, but when you get repeat customers, it does happen.  Several of them tried to talk to me about it, but all to no avail.

The only thing that bothered me about Oscar was his obsession with Bosie Douglas.  Oh, it was never stated straight out, but it was obvious to anyone who spent time with the two of them together.  Bosie, though, seemed to see Oscar only as a means to explore his urges.  Not that he ever let Oscar do more than kiss him, of course.  At least, not in the presence of others.  Often, Oscar would take one of us up to his room after they’d had their rows.  I knew he was picturing Bosie when he did so.  We all did.  It was enough to break my heart.

There were many times I felt ready to take out my frustrations on Bosie—he was a spoiled brat who acted younger than I was, though he was several years older.  I suppose that is one of the evils of money.  When you are born into it, it poisons your soul.  But the thing that truly bothered me about Bosie was just how much emotion Oscar seemed to put into their friendship, when Bosie seemed to care not a jot.  I could not help but feel it would end badly.

So I’m sure you’ll understand when I say it was no surprise that it did.

Bosie could have stopped it in so many ways.  Certainly, his father was a harsh, cruel man, but had Bosie even tried to help Oscar?  No.  He’d repudiated him to save his own hide.  And Oscar had been thrown into prison.

It was enough to make me doubt there was anything good left in the world.

So I wandered all day, feeling lost.  And that was when I met Marcus.  Well, truth be told, I had seen him before on the streets, but had avoided him.  When boys went with him, they never returned.  We all knew what that meant.  But reporting him to a bobbie would have had us arrested, and still they would have ignored him.  Better to stay away and let others pay the price.  It was a hard world.

When he appeared before me, it caused the first true reaction I’d had since hearing Oscar sentenced the day before.  Shock.  Followed by acceptance.  If this was how it was to end, then I would welcome it whole-heartedly.

“Looking for someone?” I asked him.

Marcus smiled.  “I’d say I’ve found someone, wouldn’t you?”  He had an odd accent.  A bit of French, a bit of Italian, and a bit of something else that I couldn’t quite place.

“Indeed,” I agreed.  “Do you have a place?” I asked, not sparing a thought for the little room I’d let up the street.  It was too small, and I didn’t want anyone who knew me finding my body.  Better to let him take me where he willed.

The man’s smile turned to a smirk, and had I been less numb, it might have sent a chill down my spine.  He set his hand on my back, then led me to a building I’d always thought was abandoned.  But inside, the place had been set up like a palace.  Well, what I’d always imagined a palace to look like, at any rate.  Room after room filled with fancy furniture and decorations.  The bedroom he took me to was larger than my whole apartment, and the bed the softest I’d ever been on.  I couldn’t help feeling a bit sad that I would not be able to sleep here.  Then I shook my head to clear it of such foolishness, and turned back to my client.

Whatever I had been expecting that night, death or sex, I certainly had not expected what I saw.  The man had always seemed sinister to me before, even if I didn’t take into account my knowledge of how many boys had disappeared when he’d picked them up.  But that was nothing to what I faced that night.  His eyes were glowing, and his fangs—yes, fangs—had elongated so that the tips showed from between his lips.

The sight finally let me feel again—fear.  Disbelief and horror roared through me, and for a moment I felt glued to the spot.  Then I wanted to flee.  But he was blocking the way to the door.  I had to find a way to escape.  Yes, I was upset…perhaps I hadn’t wanted to die quite as much as I’d thought.  “What…what are you?”

He chuckled.  “You can’t tell?” he asked, his accent thickening a bit. 

My breath caught, and I closed my eyes, shaking my head.  “But…you can’t be…real?”  I prayed to that long-lost deity for only the second time since arriving in London then.  There was no escaping him.  I knew it.  I was going to die.

I could feel it as he moved closer.  “You knew I was death when you accepted my invitation, didn’t you?  And yet now, you are scared?”

Opening my eyes, I looked up at him.  “Death I could accept.  Being someone’s…meal…I was not expecting.  If you are going to kill me, then do it, and leave me in peace.”

That dark chuckle washed over me, and I felt my skin prickle.  “Finally.  Someone with spirit.  There are other options, you know.”

I looked up at him, my mind whirling.  “Oh?”  Was he going to feed, then let me go?  But he’d never done that before.  At least, not that I knew.

“Yes.”  He reached out to stroke my cheek.  “I could make you like me.”

Whatever I was expecting, it wasn’t that.  “What?”  I could feel my heartbeat speed up.  Would it be the last time I ever felt it?

“Join me.  None of the others had a tenth the spirit you’ve shown me already.  I’ve been looking for a companion.  You are just what I’ve been looking for.  It has been…a long time.”

“But I don’t…”  He put a finger on my lips.

“Think about it.  I will be back.”  And with that, he left the room.

I didn’t want to think about it.  And I didn’t want to be there any longer.  But he’d locked the door.  It seemed that I had only two choices left.  Die forever—or die and live again.  At the moment, neither sounded particularly good.  But it is a strange thing.  When you reach the end of your life, something within you urges you to find a way to keep living.  So I chose to take his offer.

Some days, I regret it.  Others, not so much.  I have seen so much in this unlife of mine.  And I suppose I should thank him for that.  Who knows?  Perhaps someday I shall—by passing on this gift to someone who truly wants it.