The Vampire Genesis

 

   
                                                                                   

On a night filled with foundation-rattling thunder, I lay in a musty, mouse-infested room above an ancient tavern and struggled to remain conscious. I had commited a monumental error - the kind that can't be undone. Having graduated from Juilliard with a degree in music, I turned down my father's invitation.
      "Bart, your mother and I want you to spend one last summer with us at the lodge before you begin your teaching career."
      I had other ideas. Incurable romantic that I am, I envisioned bicycling through the lesser-known hamlets of Eastern Europe where the peasant culture remains a strong force and medieval ways still prevail. Before saying "la revedere," Romanian for goodbye, to the idea of being an irresponsible brat, I yearned for a final summer of wine, women, and song. I wanted to sow my oats and experience Europe in a way that couldn’t be realized by visiting the traditional tourist traps.
      Everything went as planned until I hitched a ride over the Carpathian Mountains and got way too drunk with an intriguing Romanian woman named Aset and her bulky companion, Ferdinando. In spite of my valiant effort to remain awake, the rolling thunder and the world faded away. I slept the dreamless sleep of the dead.

~        ~        ~

      Gradually I awakened, disoriented by the sound of a sultry female voice, admonishing me to arise. She seemed to call from within my own head. Looking straight up, I lay on my back. My head rested on what felt like a soft, satin pillow and although my eyes were open, I saw no light - none whatsoever.
      Approaching a state of panic, I groped about in the dark, hoping that whoever spoke might take my hand. Above me, my fist struck something hard, like rock. Stunned more than injured, I recoiled in surprise. Recovering from the shock, I reached up again, slowly, and examined with both hands a smooth, concave surface. Cool to the touch and less than twelve inches above my face, it felt like finely polished stone. My anxiety intensified as I realized I had been buried alive.
      Again the voice within my head called to me, but I paid little attention to her suggestion that I should remain calm. Approaching hysteria, I pummelled the sides of what I feared might be my eternal prison. I pushed outward with all of my might, to no avail. At last, with my heart pounding, I grasped the simple suggestion offered by the mysterious voice.
      “Push up!”
      I pushed upward with all of my might. To my great relief the lid to my crypt rose and slid sideways. A thin shaft of early evening light slipped in from the top right corner of my tomb. I wasn’t blind, after all.
      Reinvigorated by the advent of liberation, I pushed again. this time the lid moved far enough to allow me to stare directly into the face of a pale woman dressed in black. A large man peered over her shoulder. Vague, erotic memories of soft lips on my neck surfaced as I recognized Aset and Ferdinando, the couple I partied with at that small tavern.
      After shoving the lid further out of my way, I struggled to my feet. “Why didn’t you help me remove the lid?" I shouted. "I thought I might die in there!”
      Dressed in Goth-subculture black, Aset folded her arms across her chest and slid a few steps back. With an amused expression, her muscle-bound escort replied,  “I assure you, my boy, we weren't worried about you dying in there. As for removing the lid to your coffin —”
      “My coffin?” I interrupted. “You refer to that piece of stone as if it belongs to me!”
      Gliding towards me, wearing the expression of a concerned tutor seeking the right words to help a slow learner, Aset placed a pallid hand on my shoulder. “Bartholomew, if you truly wish to understand what has happened, you must look into my eyes."
      When I did, I felt myself drawn in - sucked into a vortex. I spun and soared like a fallen leaf propelled by a gust of wind. Within Aset's eyes I thought I glimpsed the whole of history dating back to the dawn of civilization - to the very creation of mankind.
      I found myself in a manicured garden of such majestic beauty I believed it might be heaven. The scent of gardenias in full bloom filled the air, along with the sweet music of a thousand songbirds. A nude female appearing close to her eighteenth year, with curly, shining black hair and long, athletic legs, balanced on her toes beneath a tree. She strained to reach the ripened fruit that hung from the branches, just above and beyond her reach.
      After spending a considerable amount of time in keen observation of the maiden, a serpent of incredible size and girth descended from the tree's limbs. It slithered down and coiled about the trunk of the tree, its forked tongue licking the air. When it became evident that the young female knew of, but seemed unconcerned by its presence, the beast spoke.
      “Why do you desire the fruit of this tree? The garden is filled with all manner of bushes and trees that produce delicious and far more easy-to-harvest fruit.”
      Unashamed of her nudity in the presence of the scaly voyeur, the young female continued to stretch upward, coming close but always missing the objects of her desire. “I have tasted of all the other fruits in the garden,” she replied, “and the fruit of this tree is the only fruit in the garden on which I've not dined.” She leapt upward, grunting with the effort, narrowly missing the prize she sought.
      “But ssss-surely,” the snake hissed, sliding a bit further down the trunk of the tree, “the fruit of this tree cannot be worth the time and effort you expend. What if you finally taste the fruit and find it to be bitter and unpalatable?”
      “Then, at least I would know,” the woman answered. Her eyes remained fixed on the dangling piece of fruit. “The frustration is unbearable. Until I can actually experience its flavor, I can only presume the degree of pleasure I might derive from it. As long as it remains a mystery, I shall imagine it to be an exquisite delicacy.”
      “Indeed,” the snake agreed. “I have relished watching you from this tree for many days now. You have an uncanny zest for life that I find most refreshing. As I gaze upon you, I find myself wondering what it might be like to possess a body with smooth, radiant skin, rather than the dull, yellowish-brown scales with which I am cursed. It must be wonderful to have the ability to balance and travel about on extremities such as yours . . . those long, lovely limbs.”
    The serpent fell quiet, staring at the slender arms that reached for the tempting fruit and at the shapely, well-toned legs whose youthful muscles tensed before each upward spring.
      Appearing and disappearing like lightning from a threatening storm cloud, the thin, forked tongue of the beast shot out several times. “Because I have become familiar with your plight, it pains me to see you sssss-suffer. I understand how you feel. If what you desire remains forever beyond your reach, even if you have much for which to be thankful, it can prevent you from truly appreciating that which you have.” 
      “Precisely,” The young woman gave a nod of agreement. She turned away from the fruit, took several steps towards the trunk around which the serpent remained coiled, and stared into the unblinking, reptilian eyes that glowered from the snake’s massive head, now dangling a scant foot away from her.
      Impressed by the serpent's wisdom, and unintimidated by its proximity, she commented, “The male with whom I cohabit and who treats me as if I were nothing more than a mere possession will not come to this place. He forbids me to come here. He calls this ‘The Tree of Knowledge’ and has warned me not to partake of its fruit.”
      Her long, black tresses shifted across her forehead, covering one of her extraordinarily green eyes. She cocked her head to the left, reached up, and brushed the hair away. “You live here in this tree, do you not?” she inquired.
      “I do,” the snake admitted.
      “How is it that you are of another species and have known me for only a short while, yet compared to my own mate you seem to better understand my feelings?”
      The serpent bowed its head, feigning modesty, and replied, “How could one reside amongst the branches of The Tree of Knowledge, dining upon its fruit each day and not derive great benefit?”
      “Then tell me, serpent, for I am in anguish,” she pressed a hand to her firm breast, accentuating her plight and the urgency of her petition, “Is this delicacy worth having?”
      The snake paused briefly, its forked tongue flicking with increased frequency from between its formidable fangs. “Oddly enough, I have pondered a remarkably similar question regarding something that I desire.”
      At that very moment the snake struck, sinking its long fangs into her neck and injecting its venom.
      Paralyzed by the poison, the vivacious visitor collapsed to the ground. She shuddered, unable to flee as the snake fed upon her blood. The serpent drained her body of its fluids, absorbing her very essence rather than simply devouring her body. By the time the beast finished, nothing remained of the vibrant, pink-skinned beauty but a wrinkled pile of dull, dried flesh and bones under a tangled mop of dark hair.
      As my mind and vision cleared, I found myself gazing into Aset's eyes. I recognized her facial features, which, although faded, were undeniable. “You were the beautiful woman in the garden," I exclaimed. "The evil serpent’s venom somehow transformed you into what you have become, didn't it?” A great empathy for her, based on what she must have endured through the centuries swelled within me.
      “No, Bartholomew.” She shook her head back and forth causing the curls of her thick, black hair to roll over her shoulders in waves. “I was not the beautiful woman.” She paused and our eyes met. I shall never forget the emerald intensity of her steady, unblinking gaze and the incredible significance of her revelation. “I was the snake.”
      My hands flew to cover my mouth as I gasped, “Oh my...”
    “There is more, Bartholomew," she assured me. "There is more.”
      Again, I found myself in the garden. On the ground lay the withered remains of the young female, while only a few feet away I saw the serpent in the grass, grotesquely swollen from the considerable meal it consumed. The creature began to twist and turn, wriggling within its skin, which loosened and began to detach as the beast increased its squirming.
      A slit opened up down the scaly back, from just behind the head all the way to the tail. I cringed at the ghastly sight and sound of dark fluids spewing from the middle of the reptile as the crevice widened. Inside the beast, a pulsating, pink bulge grew at an alarming rate until it became apparent that the developing tumor was the only portion of the predator that remained alive.
      To my surprise, the quivering pink mass began to rise, magically forming what became arms and legs. Soon, the nude figure of a young woman stood complete before me, her damp face flushed with triumph. Opening her long-lashed eyelids to reveal sparkling green eyes, she wiped away thick strands of gelatinous mucous that dripped from her glistening flesh.
      With fluid grace, the pinnacle of feminine pulchritude stepped from the serpent’s carcass without so much as glancing in the direction of the emaciated corpse nearby. She opened her mouth to lick her lips with a long, pink tongue and exposed two elongated canine teeth that curved over the top edge of her full, lower lip. Stretching and flexing her new appendages, she nodded at them in approval before turning to leave. In the distance, the anxious voice of a man could be heard.
      “Eve, Eve, where are you?”
      “Coming, Adam.”
      Again my vision cleared and my eyes focused upon the being whose gaunt features, although changed by time and no doubt by the very nature of her existence, still retained faded vestiges of the beauty that danced beneath "The Tree of Knowledge.”
      “You see, Bartholomew,” she explained. "This is why I am known as the Mother of All Mankind, the Giver of Life. I have been known by many names - Aset to the Egyptians, Isis to the Greeks, and Eve to Jews and Christians. Over the centuries I have watched my children and, in a very few instances, have selected the special ones...” Slightly parted lips exposed her fangs as she paused before saying, “Artists like you, for immortality.”
      Feeling weak in the knees, I half-sat, half-collapsed upon the edge of the cold stone crypt from which I emerged. A bloodsucking demon, perhaps Satan, was the mother of mankind! No wonder sin became such a natural and integral part of humanity.
      On the precipice of hell, I reached up with a trembling hand to massage the tender spot on my throat and longed for the life I could no longer live. How I wished I had accepted my parents' invitation.  
                                                                   

The End

If you enjoyed the Vampire Genesis and would like to see the story from which it was sucked (The Vampire Virtuoso), please use the following link:

The Vampire Virtuoso  (13+) The Piano's inventor becomes a vampire with a mission #1466170 by George R. Lasher

I am delighted to announce that World Castle Publishing has published The Falcon and His Desert Rose as a paperback and as an eBook. The first three chapters are offered here as a sneak preview, so that you, dear reader, may consider whether you wish to invest in purchasing your own copy. 

The Falcon & His Desert Rose - Prologue  (18+) The remains of an ancient god are cloned in hopes of returning Egypt to its former glory. #1468329 by George R. Lasher

I invite you to visit the World Castle Publishing website, where you can place your order, if you wish:

http://www.worldcastlepublishing.com/georgerlasher.htm

Or, you can order a copy from Amazon.com

http://www.amazon.com/Falcon-His-Desert-Rose-ebook/dp/B005UD7R1C/ref=tmm_kin_tit...

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