Sunday, January 12, 2014

The Reality of the Darkness; The Ongoing Saga of Ophelia Redstar

You might have noticed that my blog address is Ophelia Redstar. It may seem odd because it doesn't have anything to do with my blog. But, it isn't any further from the truth. Ophelia is my literary alter ego.When I day dream about non-reality, make believe land, she is me. She is also a vampire that is also a vampire assasin. She is the part of the me that is strong, out spoken and has a backbone. 

I had planned on participating on the "Write a Novel in a Month" that was going on in November and realized, it wasn't going to happen. But, I had decided that I was going to write about her story anyway. I wanted to write Sarah in at least one story line. I plan on writing my son in, too. But, anyway, this was what I wrote.


The night was one that Ophelia would never forget. It was a haunting evening, All Saint’s Day. Day of the Dead. And, she had ended up in Mexico. She had been following the trail of a vampire by the name of Phaedra that had a deviant taste for children. She used the excuse that the blood of children helped to keep her youthful appearance. All she could figure was that Phaedra forgot the source of the blood had no effect on your appearance. It did however have an effect on your mind and strength. And, consuming the blood of children tended to make creatures unstable. Impatience and short tempers being the strongest effects. She had slaughtered her way through several small villages, leaving a string of tiny corpses along the way. Young girls between fourteen and sixteen were her favorite “treat.” She was very jealous of their youth.

Being Day of the Dead, there would be children everywhere, along with the rest of their families. Ophelia knew that the Phaedra had lost control and would see this as a feast. Not only was she risking the lives of innocents, she was risking the safety and isolation of the supernatural world. A few deaths could be covered up and dismissed. Even in this day and age where people believed in things that go bump in the night and “bad luck,” word would spread.

A radiant glow was visible from miles away from the cemetery. There were thousands of candles all through the headstones and markers. You could hear the voices of men singing happy songs traveling through the air. And, the laughter of children billowed and rolled through the hills where she had been waiting for sun down. This was the last place the “Red Ghost” had been seen. Her lair was easy to find. The stench was appalling. She had at least become a little smarter this time around. She was luring the children out to the hills where she would quite literally drain the children’s bodies and drop their remains over the edge of a cliff.

She was overwhelmed for a moment. Originally, Ophelia had followed this trail thinking that the guilty culprit’s were the ones who had turned her and stole her children. The last time she had seen the bodies of children, they had been her own. She felt rage rise with bile in her throat as she remembered being drug by her foot away from her burning home. The men had done their dirty work in the cellar. But, they made sure that they left them out for display for her to see as they had their turns with her. All four children had been violated in every twisted way that the bastards could imagine. She would never be able to fully put the sounds of their echoing screams out of her head. She did not know what was worse, the screaming or when it stopped. That is when hers began.

She knew as long as she could hear them, they were alive. But, one by she could hear the screams would turn to crying. The crying to soft sobbing. Sobbing to whimpers. Then silence. She was in such shock that she did not realize the men were on their way back to the house. “Men” is not the right word. These men had ceased to be men years before. They had been turned in the years of the Civil War where blood shed was every where and there was plenty of blood to keep a fresh, young vampire gorged on blood. That much consumption caused problems. It would make the vampire crazy and victim to their own bloodlust. Their sire wanted it that way. He was a debaucherous demon. Even for a vampire. These men would follow him to the end of the earth.

Her last memories as a human were being dragged from the house by her foot. She could feel her ribs snapping and twisting as her face dug into the ground. Her bones dig into her organs, puncturing them. What little blood that was left after their feedings was seeping out of her heart and veins. Muscles and tendons tore and pulled loose in her leg. Her foot finally snapped loose at the bone as they reached the creek. They laughed as they tossed her body into the ice cold water. The cold November air caused the water to drop her body temperature even lower. They thought she was dead. They did not realize that she was alive. But, just barely. Her will to live was gone. It died with her children. She had been thrown a good one hundred feet from the creek. And, as her head crashed against a large stone she felt her neck snap. She heard the crunch as her vertebrae collided and then snapped apart as she bounced on the creek bottom. And, she did not care. She just wanted to die.

Without her children she did not want to live. She didn’t care anymore. Her husband was gone and now her children. It had been five years since that night. Years had taught her that you had to go on. If you did not have anyone left to care about, fight for the people that do. And, she was not going to let anyone else lose a child tonight.

Upon descending the hill, she saw Phaedra in silhouette against the glow of the candles. She was tiny. No more than five feet tall. But the way that she stood there in the night air with her hair whipping in the wind, she seemed enormous. It was almost as though she was floating in the air. Flamboyance was always a specialty of hers. It wasn’t just for show. It was just who she was.

A small child, a girl no more than four, stuck her head around one of the outermost headstones. Her tiny feet began to take increasingly faster steps towards Phaedra. The child was being drawn in. Creating infatuation is a gift that few vampires have. And, the ones that do have it as humans, too. You know them, the people that others just want to be friends with. People give them things. Cars, jewels, groceries. The girl’s face was lit up, laughing. I had to move quickly. I wanted to surprise her, and the girl just blew any chance of that. There would not be any bloodshed. Not tonight.

She felt the fire in her chest flare as she pulled Retribution from his scabbard. It was a short sword that had been coated in silver. Using it made her nervous. She would have to keep from touching herself with it. The leather she was wearing would keep her from coming in contact from the metal. Tall boots, pants, corset and shirt were very fitted and would make her stick out like a sore thumb in her pre-Victorian world. But, it kept her safe. And, to be honest, the outfit was enough of a distraction that people did not look at her face. Not that many people lived to see her, anymore. The weight of the sword was very heavy in her hand. Even after all this time, she still hadn’t adjusted to the power in body. The sword should have been heavy for her to even lift. But, as a vampire, it was light as a feather. Power and anger pulsed through her muscles as she began her run at Phaedra.

A small scream escaped the mouth of the little girl. It grew as her sweet brown eyes grew larger at the mad woman running towards her. A sharp hiss rang is her ears as Phaedra’s head whipped around. Her eyes were red and full of lust and hysteria. Yes, she was completely off her rocker. But, she was ancient and old. That meant she was a formidable opponent. Her was strength was her speed and agility. That little bit of surprise that Ophelia had was now gone. Now, she would have to rely on her determination and use the anger that burned within her.

She was so focused on her mission that she was oblivious that the songs and laughter had ceased. It was deadly silent. As soon as the vampires had laid eyes on each other, the ghosts of the children buried in the cemetery began to gather.  The candles, toys and candies that were left by their families had enticed their spirits to come tonight. Tonight, when the veil between this world and the next, the spirits of the children that were there had a leader. The spirit of a fourteen year old girl, dressed in a torn white dress whipped around her feet. She began to gather the children with a gentle motion of her hand. The spirits followed her. Their family members following right behind.

Ophelia ran, almost faster than a human eye could see, sword close to her side. She gripped it tightly in fear that she might lose it. Or, that it might be ripped from her grip by her opponents. Phaedra flew right at her. On lookers would say that it reminded them of a head on train collision. The movement of the two were so fast that no one was ever sure what happened in the struggle. The sword that had been gripped like a vise had managed to be flung from her hand. From the ground she could not see. Her advisary had blinded her with dirt and had gripped her bony hand around Ophelia’s throat. She could feel her muscles pulling away from the bone. This was not how she had wanted this to go. Not at all. The cackling laughter from the woman looming over her was added to her confusion.

She was still a young vampire herself. She was still new to killing. It left a bitter taste in her mouth. She was ready to die. She had been since that night five years ago. Thoughts of finally being able to die brought her peace. Not knowing if she would go to heaven, hell or somewhere in between, she just wanted to go. She was surprised that heaven might be an option. But, when she heard the voice of her daughter, her daughter that had been long dead, say, “Mother…” she quickly filled with confusion. Surely she didn’t see her face. Her sweet blue eyes and warm smile. She was slipping in and out of conciousness. But, she knew that she wasn’t seeing things. Her daughter’s ghost was there. She was even growing more solid. Her bare feet disturbing the dry dirt, causing it to billow up in clouds as she walked towards the sword laying on the ground. With a look of determination and using all of the focus the girl could muster, she placed her know corporeal hand around the grip of the sword. And, with a tenacious effort, she lifted the sword and swung it in one motion, bringing the Phaedra’s head flying from her body.

Ophelia flew up from the ground. Her own shock and astonishment left her body tingling, unaware of the trauma dealt by the now dead vampire, whose body was already beginning the rapid process of decay. All Saint’s Day was when the spirits of the dead were supposed to be able to come back to visit their loved ones. But, she had always thought that this was just an excuse to celebrate the lives of loved ones. Once she gained her center, she realized that there were ghosts over other children making a circle around them, as though they were creating a protective barrier between the vampires and the people and the cemetery that had come to see what the ruckus was. Ophelia and Rachel ran to each other just in time to hold each other before she turned to mist again.

”I don’t understand. Come back my baby! Don’t leave me again!” Ophelia screamed as the child dissipated completely. She did not realize that she was sobbing and gasping for air as she grasped at the ground where her daughter had been standing. Every once of excruciating pain that she had felt over the last five years hit her all at once. She felt human for the first time in a very long while. It wasn’t until a gentle hand touched her shoulder that she realized the ghosts were all gone.

“The sun will be up soon. You can sleep in our cellar.” She looked up to see a girl no older that her own Rachel had been sitting beside her. “My grandmother said that anyone, vampire or not, that would the ghosts of our children would protect is worthy of our protection as well.” Her smile was gentle and warm. And, more importantly, genuine. Ophelia realized that she had been there for hours, curled on the ground heaving with dry sobs. “My name is Rose,” she spoke gently as she straightened her skirts as she got up from the dry ground. She was not scared of her. Knowing she was a vampire, and she still trusted her. She invited her to her house. The house where her family sleeps. She could not turn down her generosity. But, her heartbreak was starting to ease a bit. There was a part of her, the part that had saved her skin many times that said this could be a trap.

But, there comes a point when you are completely emotionally, mentally and physically drained that all you have left is faith. Faith in the ones that offer you shelter in the storms of life. She reached her hand up to the girl. Together, they dusted the dirt from her and her clothes and walked quietly to the house. It was located in the center of town. Right on the square. As the got closer to the house, she realized she could hear singing again. But, it was quiet. Murmurs, just above a hum. People were heading back into their homes. In her mind, she was evil. She was not worthy of love or trust. But, these people that had never seen her before, and knew what she was smiled at her. Warm, genuine smiles stretched across their faces. Some of them even brought her packages wrapped in brown papers. An elderly man scooted towards her and slowly reached out and delicately took her had in his. He placed his lips to the back of her hand. “Gracias,” he said as he bowed low.

She didn’t understand. Of all the creatures in the world to fear, vampires were high on the list. She was the thing of nightmares. Children should be running and screaming. These people should be crossing themselves and shivering. But, they were not. Instead they were welcoming her with open arms. There was something very otherworldly going on.

Rose looked over with a small smile. She could tell that Ophelia was confused. “My grandmother has spoke to the townspeople on your behalf. They understand that you came to protect our children from the Blood Witch and not to harm anyone.” Before Ophelia could respond the girl quickly added, “She is psychic. She read your mind and could tell that you were only here to help. Also, you are hurting and lonely. If there is anything that you ever need, we are at your service. If you need somewhere to rest or to hide. We will help you. You came to us in our time of need, without expecting anything in return.”

Ophelia stopped for a moment. Warmth and love radiated from the girls face. Any other time, she would have been furious that someone read her mind. But, the entire town wanted to take her under their wing. She had never in her life felt this kind of acceptance. She had spent her life not knowing who she was. Her parents had died when she was a young girl of eight. From then on, nothing was right again until she met Michael. Then, she lost him and her children. There had been so many occurrences of strange and supernatural activity around her that she was quite scared that she had been jinxed or cursed. What harm would come to these people for protecting her? Could she risk their lives for her own? But, she couldn’t refuse their hospitality, either. And, the option of a safe haven was so very appealing. “I will stay for a while. But, I insist that we find somewhere away from people so that I am not a danger to anyone.”

“As long as you stay with us until dusk. You have to rest,” the girl replied as she guided Ophelia into a doorway. “Welcome to our home.


Leilani the Clyde Woman said...

Did you say you were wanting to write a book? I hope so :) BTW, I found a paper weight/knickknack of a sugar skull when I was home in NM and I wanted to get it for you but it was outrageously priced. I'll keep an eye out for reasonable ones when I go home next time.

Marlo Whetsel said...

Jerry and I really would like to do a graphic novel. :) And, eek!!!!