\"Writing.Com
*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1938487-Dreamer
Item Icon
\"Reading Printer Friendly Page Tell A Friend
No ratings.
by Ruby Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Short Story · Dark · #1938487
Within the life Luna Vertain. Orphanage restrictians.
I sleep, dreamless, as always. Never once has grace glorified me with a sight in my subconcious. That was normal in my eyes, in my mind, in my futial attept to believe i wasn't odd....an outsider....... a stranger to the world i lived in.....



I stare out the window of an old beat-up bus, thinking of the summer in store for me. I would read the same books i'd read i hundred times before. With no e...-mail or phone, i had no way to contact the few friends i'd made that year. Then wondering why they would continue talking to someone like me. A girl who'd been adopted a huindred times, and sent all over the country... Without a proper home for so long. and when i finnaly found one. The supposed parrent i had grown to adore as a child, the one everyone else thought was nuts.... my father; a person whos image you'd only seen in horror movies, unless you lived in Translevaina..... where its not as "spooky" as you think.

For the enitire time i was home schooled, no one bothered me... No one even attepted to talk to me. It was just the usual to me, completly normal. When i was enrolled in public schooling, they told me the criteria.... Raise your hand if you have a question, or are answering a question. It was too easy, I knew all the answers... I was already teachers pet accoring to my peers... but to me, it didn't seem like she favored me much at all. She always looked at me as if there were something strange about me, some untold misfortune my father had not informed her of.... or worse...did.

I knew i was odd compared to the other kids, they always ask me, "what happened to your REAL parents?" and "why do you look soo strange?" or worse "why are you so pale?" and "is the whole silver eye thing natural?" They would talk about me behind my back, althought they must've not be very good at whispering, cause i could hear every word. It seemed they tried hard not to act like i exsisted..... Yet they always looked when i got up, or even moved my head....

Since my near death experiance at age five, my father had to clean the house himself, it would take up most of the night, and i would barely be able to spend any time with him, then he hired a a woman. For the first two months she worked as my nanny, and as my fathers maid, he watched her, hidden in either the darkest corner or, while in the attic, ontop of the beams. When he realized she was not like the woman that had tried to kill me. he backed off and things progressed smoothly.

At age five, my nanny, an older woman, who hated all things paranormal, instantly hated my father, since he is one of the last of a dying breed... She knew if she'd tried to attack him, she'd be killed instantly. But me, the innocent one, the one who was only partually vamperic, the one she could hurt. While in my nap, she very quickly glided a blade across my throat. My father, came into the room instantly, approached her, and snapped her neck. He came to me quickly, paniced. He knew that the only way for me to continue liveing, would be to not live at all... to have hollow heart, and no pulse, as he did. He completed my heratige there, in my nursery....

At age ten, I realized the reason i'd found him so kind, so unlike all the other foster fathers. Was because... he was the father of my birth, of my blood. He explained to me that my mother had freaked and ran with me when she was told of his bloodline, of his demonic nature. She didn't realize until later, that i would be the same as soon as i turned sixteen. At the time i had been half blood. Half vampire, half human. So she sent me to an orphanige, because she coudn't bring herself to kill the child she'd given birth to, but would die herslef before giving me back to my father. In the end i guess he found me, and took me as i was, his only child, his daughter...

To this day, i do not remember my mother. And the children at school are of no help. My irrataion grew every day, Escaping in small, bursts of hatred. Shown through my eyes, or the red tears that spill when i cry. Once i cried at school, the teacher screamed, and started scolding me.... For what i dont know... It just sounded like she was venting on me, Saying a bunch of random things. All the while her voice was shaking.
© Copyright 2013 Ruby (myne1021 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1938487-Dreamer