Pandora's Diary

My senses have become increasingly stronger, more infinitely powerful with each passing decade. Visions and sounds echo in my mind. At first, only glimpses of foreign places and unfamiliar voices tempting me to venture into the new world. Who are these beings that feed my uncurious mind? These brief moments expanded to where I found myself awakening in mid-slumber to the sounds of preternatural voices carrying on the winds from the other side of the Earth where the sun has set. My eyes, wide open in the blackness of my crypt, darted from side to side in confusion. Yet my limbs could not move. This vampiric slumber without peace is indeed a torturous state! Panic rose in me the first time I endured its grasp. Is this what the mother endured? Is this phenomenon what cast her into that hideous catatonic state? My mind was wildly calculating my age now. How long? How long? When can I expect the collapse of my spirit and my body transforming into that rigid white statue void of life, soul or feelings? What can I do to halt this? I am alone and helpless. I do not have a keeper like the immortal parents to watch over me. “Marius!” My mind cried out. “When will this Dark Gift which eats away at my mortal fibers begin to consume my mind?”

Should I wish it to be so? Perhaps, then I shall be free. But for now, I rest here in the darkness waiting for fluid movement to return to my limbs. Then I will join the others. Those like me who loiter about in this palace of glass and steel mingling among unknowing mortals who sacrificed and saved for an exclusive stay at The Night Island. They are safe within these walls. It is the one rule we must abide to remain in this earthly haven created by Armand. I have all the comforts money can buy and gracious flowing gowns that I can’t seem to live without. Funny how we all cling to the mortal vanities we were born too. The lace mantle had to go though. It’s delicate pattern of silk and cotton disintegrating to dust before my eyes.

Do we fool them? Who the hell do I think I'm kidding, trying to fit into a world ruled by daylight. I am a creature of the night who feeds on the human heart...literally, although I no longer require too. Then why take life? Why draw the weak and lonely to my breast? I say I free them from their meaningless existence. I promise a release from their pain. I appear as an angel with the power to guide them to a better place. How can I promise such a thing when I myself am not sure of it exists? I've done this for so long that I almost came to believe it myself. But it is all lies. Self serving doctorate that I used to justify my own existence. And now I serve not even that purpose. I am no angel my lovely one. You will not fly to golden gates and joyful song on my account. I do not have the wings to carry your precious soul.

Truth be known, the souls I take barely satisfies the emptiness now. The swoon is just a placebo that cannot heal my broken soul. Yet, It is the only way I can endure. It is the only way to feed my starving soul. The loneliness weighs too heavily on me now. With each night I somberly greet the shadows and nocturnal creatures and add another link in the chain of my miserable eternity. This night seem darker than most. I see with my eyes wide open and clarity of mind filled with doubts and fears. But mostly for the first time I feel weak and inept. And I now succumb to the futility of it all. And I feel the need to confess my heartbreak now.

I listen to the human hands that play on the piano somewhere in this sanctuary of glass and steel. With my vampiric skills I could so easily mimic the strokes upon the ivory keys. But that is all. I dare not try as I know it would only further ingrain how truly inhuman I am. That the imitation is just that...artificial like the musical ensembles created today by technical minds that can create the sounds of an orchestra just by pushing buttons on a computer. Oh, what have I become? I cannot even bring myself to indulge the power that grows in me continually.

The music, the sounds of mortal and immortals above sends ripples through my body. Slowly I move, first raising a hand, then turning my head. No, this night will not capture me within a frozen form. I will continue as I have for over two thousand years. I am Pandora, the Goddess of Isis. I will walk where the white sand is endlessly kissed by blue waters. The coolness of the waves will sooth and erase the footprints I would otherwise leave behind. I will gaze at the night sky, as always. This I love. And I will listen for you, beloved. Let me hear your weeping heart. I will have it, hold it tenderly in my hands and drink the only juices that quench my dying parched soul.