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David's Diary *(For Cheri)* by moon_princess

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The candles were nearly out.
The flames sputtered and died down, threatening to go out, as Star walked by them, causing a draft.
The only noise was caused by the many bangles clinking on her arms, the rain spattering on the windows as the storm howled outside, and the wheezing breaths of an old man lying on the double bed.
He was dressed in black from head to boot-clad foot, his heavy trench coat wrapped around his frail form.
The white hair splayed on the pillow still had traces of blonde in it, and although his eyes were sunk back under his brow with age and were surrounded by deep wrinkles and papery skin, they still retained their bright blue color and sparkle.
Star sat down on a three-legged stool pulled up by the bed, and her hands flew to his face, stroking his hair and brow.
Slowly, he opened his eyes and turned his head slightly to look at her.
“Star,” he whispered, his voice soft and wheezy.
“David,” she said while smiling, her voice sweet and louder by contrast. Long, dark curls tumbled over her shoulders and framed her pretty oval face, and a single, glistening tear fell from her warm brown eyes and down her soft cheek, reflecting the candlelight.
They were upstairs, in her old bedroom when she’d lived there as a girl.
Her parents, whom she had not seen in so long, were out for the whole week, and ironically she’d found her home, the place she spent so long running from, the ideal place to hide her lover.
Opposite the bed, was a large, mahogany dressing table, on top of which burned the candles. The mirror made their light even brighter, and the room was cosy and warm, exotic materials draped over the bed and chairs and hanging from the window.
David’s old skin felt fuzzy, peach-like, under her strong, teenage fingers, as she stroked his cheek.
She sighed sadly as he closed his eyes again, having no energy in his old age but to sleep.
Moving her hands down to hug him, she felt something hard and wooden under his trench coat. Slipping her hands under it and over his chest, Star pulled out a small, hard-backed book, the leaf torn and stained with age.
Flicking it open in interest, she saw, written in the hand of a younger David, a date some seventy/eighty ears previously.
David’s diary.

Diary 1910

The pages were dated but David had not kept to them, simply scribbling down his thoughts and emotions on any spare page.
Star flicked through until her sharp eyes picked out a word.

Max

She edged closer to the frail form on the bed and began reading.

He said he could take it away. The pain. I told him I had no pain. He laughed in my face, and said not to lie to him.
I asked him his name.
“Max.” he answered. “My name is Max, David.”
I asked him how he knew mine. He knew I was scared.
He just laughed again.
“I know more than your name, David,” he said. “I know you’re 21 years old, you’re running from the law, your mother left you and your father five years ago to start her new life with your father’s best friend, and as a result of this, your father –“
“- Was off his head on acid half the time,” I interrupted, just wanting to get out of there. I backed off but he followed.
So I ran.
He caught me. I felt his hand on my shoulder and his voice in my ear, then pain, and then I blacked out.
I woke up feeling different. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but it was… like he said, the pain was gone. I no longer cared about my dad or my mom, I didn’t have regret or guilt or sadness hanging over me. I felt free.
Max was there. He said I was in his house. He’d taken me back to California.
I asked why we were in the basement.
His answer was long, complicated, but true.
I couldn’t stop screaming.

So, I am a creature of the night now.
Santa Carla is at my feet. I have eternity awaiting me, powers I could only dream of, and freedom. But I am lonely.
Max and me found a cave in the cliffs. We cleared it of most of the junk and it’s now my shelter during the day. Max wants a family.
It’s my job to build him one.

I went out every night, to feed and to meet people. I met no one. No one was ready for the life I offered.
I used to think that.
Until I found Dwayne.
He was so handsome, every girl on that boardwalk turned to look at him walk by as he sauntered up to the merry-go-round.
I walked over and looked him straight in the eyes. Pain, regret, misery, and longing stared back.
I knew he was ready. That night he became like me.
I gave him a life and he embraced it. That night I felt the first emotion I felt since my turning. Pride.

I felt the same way six decades later when I watched him sire Paul. Paul was not your average run away; he left his good, wealthy family because they supported him in every way, with the exception of his choice of career.
Mr. and Mrs. Keats weren’t too pleased when their only child told them he had plans of being a rock and roll singer.
Nope. Their nice, college boy was to be a doctor and marry well. He wasn’t having any of it, and left that night. I found him, and Dwayne turned him. He is one of us now.
He too, is settling in fine. Every day when we are hanging from the bar in the back cave, I just hang and watch at them sleep, feeling so proud.

Times changed.
It was the 1980’s, and we went with the times to blend in. For Dwayne and me, it was not so easy as for Paul, who had grown up in that world of sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll. Dwayne and me had to adjust. It was not so simple as emptying your last victim’s wallet and buying the latest fashions. It was a new way of life. For us, growing up in the early 1900’s, it was hard. But I loved the bright lights of the boardwalk and the boom box blasting out rock songs at all hours of the day.

Paul sired.
It was such a quiet night I didn’t expect it. We were on the beach - we’d just fed. I saw Paul making his way over to a blonde about his age.
Dwayne made some remark about Paul wanting seconds, and we were both taken aback when Paul brought the teen over.
His name was Marko.
Like I did with Dwayne, I looked into Marko’s soul. Through his eyes I saw love, passion, loneliness, desire…
Paul half-drained him and then fed him his blood. Not the way I changed Dwayne, but that meant it was good. Original…
Marko took to the night like a duck to water.
He was brave, strong, and determined. He and Paul formed a bond so strong it equalled that of Dwayne’s and mine in the early days. Every night I watch them, and I am so proud.

Last night I found her.
In seventy years, I had found a new family, a new friend, a new home, and now, in her, I had found a new emotion. Love. New hope, new dreams…
She was so beautiful, the first moment I saw her I was struck. Long, dark hair, deep but warm eyes, willowy limbs and a graceful air.
Star.
She was so bright, and love, care, and kindness radiated from her.
I fell in love.
If my heart were ever to beat again, it would beat only for her.

She had a brother. Laddie.
Dwayne and the boy seemed to fit together just like that, both quiet, shy, understanding of each other.
Star and Laddie came back with us.
They had an abusive father. They’d fled. I quickly offered them a home with us, and Star accepted.
She is mine, and we will be together forever. Nothing will part us.
Star drank from the bottle yesterday night.
When we go out to the boardwalk or the beach, I watch my family, and I think, finally, I have built something worth living for.
She told me of her dreams, ambitions…
“Anything’s possible,” I told her.

Weeks pass. Time changes.
With the others it was so simple. They’d embraced their new life and gone out to kill almost straightaway. But she refused. Still she does.
“I will not kill,” is all she whispers night in, night out.
No matter how much I plead.

It was almost a whole year since Star first drank my blood that the Emersons moved to Santa Carla.
I felt something coming for a while but never expected the ferocity of the event. For the first time, I began to fear I would lose her.

I am losing her.
I am losing my Star, my bright light, my love.
She goes to him… Michael.
I am losing her.
I am losing them all. Max is hell bent on his family plan, the Emersons at the centre of it. There’s no stopping him. He doesn’t understand, we’re two separate families, we’re tearing each other apart, and he cant see it, this family is meant for doom…
Michael has drunk from the bottle. He is weak, weaker than Star. He won’t last…

Michael knows what he is. He is in no doubt of himself, his family’s future or me. He thought me a joke, just another guy in his way – an obstacle in the path to Star.
These mortals, when will they learn?
I love her. And I will never give her up. Never.

MARKO MARKO MARKO MARKO MARKO MARKO
He is dead, by beloved brother and friend is dead, they killed him, they came for us in the day and he is dead.
Tonight we are going to take the life from their murdering bodies.
We are going to avenge our brother.



Star closed the book.
There were no more entries.
But she didn’t need to read. She knew the rest. She’d seen it.
She’d seen Max die. She’d seen David stir, while the others clustered in the kitchen for cleaning and rejoicing.
Leaving Laddie with the Frogs, she’d slipped out with David’s body, just managing to get him to Grandpa’s car, then she’d driven them to her old house, which was thankfully empty.
She watched his frail body now, as those thought, images, came back to her.
Helping him up the stairs to her room…
Him, collapsing on top of her fully made double bed, just the way she’d left it when she’d fled fourteen months before.
She’d watched, horrified, as his body has slowly aged.
Later, she came to realise he was no longer a vampire. The curse of the undead had been lifted and he was mortal again – and his body had aged to what it would have been, had he lived those years.
Now, she looked over his frail body, that body that had been her source of much strength and security for so long, that was now shrivelled and weak.
That skin, that had been so soft and smooth, now pockmarked with wrinkles and freckles.
Carefully, she laid the diary on the bedside table, and watched him sleep.
She felt herself slipping, when a voice jerked her back.
“Star,” came David’s breathy wheeze. “It is time.”
Star looked at him curiously, and then shook her head no.
With all his strength, David lifted a hand slowly to her fair face, then flinched at the sight of his own hundred-year old hand.
“It… is time… for… me to… to die,” he said softly.
“No!” Star said. “Don’t leave me, please don’t…!” a lump stuck in her throat like a fish bone, and her vision blurred as her eyes filled with tears. The lump constricted so she could hardly speak, and she was terrified she wouldn’t be able to say what she wanted in time.
“Don’t go where I can’t follow,” she croaked.
“Anything’s possible,” he answered quietly, dropping his hand onto the satin duvet in exhaustion with a dull thud. In that moment, she knew she was his, and he hers.
“Yes,” she whispered, taking his hand again.
She slowly rose and, her skirts swishing about her legs, walked towards the bedroom door. Reluctant to let go of his hand, she gently released him and went into her bathroom.
The bright light and white was a startling contrast to her cosy room. She looked to the medicine cabinet.
In the mirror, she saw she was pale and ghostly, thin and drawn, but then her cheeks flushed red and her eyes sparkled as she opened the small, plastic door and scrabbled around in the shelves.
Her mother’s bottle of antidepressants – empty.
Star slammed the little door shut and the white plastic frame came free, clattering on the linoleum floor.
Her eyes moved to the windowsill.
Snatching up her father’s razor, she headed back to her room, and quietly closed the door as so not to alarm the old man laid on her bed.
She took a moment to stop and look at him, for the last time.
Then she went to him, and climbed up on the bed by him, careful not to hurt his delicate body.
She lay by him and kissed his wrinkly cheek.
Raising her arms up so she could see them, she placed the razor by her wrist.
“For love,” she whispered, slicing it across her skin and opening her veins.
Pain.
A cool rush cut off white-hot pain searing down her arms and her chest as the blood poured out.
Oh, the irony…
Blood - that which she’d spent so long running from, so long escaping, would prove her undoing.
She closed her eyes tight as she bled onto him and her head swam.
“For love,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around her, and using one hand to push her chin up to kiss her pale lips.
She opened her eyes, startled, and found herself looking into the young, handsome face of the lost boy she knew.
Her David.
She smiled, tears falling down her face, and opened her mouth to speak, but he placed a finger over her lips to silence her.
She heard the sea rolling onto the beach in her ears, and she knew they were gone.
Even in death, they were together.

We will be together forever. Nothing will part us.

Words written in a diary so long ago, proved true. Love proved true to the very end, for David and his Star.
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