waning moon

8/8/2019 Waning Moon

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~~ WANING MOON ~~

CHAPTER 1~~1661~~

35

Dawn was breaking, and in the pale light he noticed

something. The blaze under his skin had already spread to

his left hand, the same side as his bite. Shaking with pain

he compared his two hands: the left was now several shades

lighter than the right; it was almost ghostly white.

Dear God, he gasped, then the pain hit with a furyunparalleled, and Carlisle doubled over.I must get off

thestreet before anyone sees me!He began to crawl,

fighting

against the pain as it spread down his torso. His heart was

racing and the faster it went the faster the fire spread. He

wanted to get to a safe place before his legs stopped

working; his left arm was already much weaker than the

right. He crawled down the nearest alley, and fell upon a

cellar door. He pulled open the door and stumbled down

into the dark room. There were piles and piles of supplies

everywhere he looked.I need a hiding place, just a small place to lie down


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and recuperate.Though he could feel his body succumbto

some type of poison, he had convinced himself that he was

going to be fine, that he just needed to heal, like he always hadafter he was beaten. He would be fine.

The pain caused him to fall forward onto a pile of

potatoes in the far back corner of the cellar. Half of the pile

was rotten; they clearly had not been touched in months,36

and they probably would not be until someone decided to

dig the pile out of the cellar with a shovel. Carlisle beganto dig mostly with his right arm, and, once he had a small

hole started, he forced his left arm to help shove potatoes

aside. After he had shifted enough to just wedge himself in

behind the pile, he put his coat back on, settled himself, and

began building the potatoes up around him, half burying

himself in the process. He was hidden from view, and,

despite the stench, he was dry and warm, though he could

feel he was getting colder every minute.

Gasping for breath due to the conflagration in his

chest and his physical efforts, Carlisle laid his head back,

but then his right arm was ablaze. It was a slow torture,

taking hours and hours. Once the scorching agony reached

his fingers, he looked down again, and this time he actuallywatched as his fingers slowly faded from pink stained with

blood to a ghostly white color.

Carlisles eyes filled with tears which began to spill

down his cheeks. But he did not have long to mourn what

he knew was happening to him, because the inferno was

now burning upward into his head, and Carlisle had to stuff

a potato in his mouth to muffle his screams.


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CHAPTER 2

~~1666~~Carlisle opened his eyes. For a moment he was

paralyzed and his eyes swept the room. The dawn of the

third day had broken. The sun had not risen and the sky

was barely purple, but compared to the pitch black of the

cellar a dim light was visible through the cracks in the

cellar doors. Carlisle was missing a short period of

memory because he had last been aware of his fading

breath, and it had been completely dark outside. Had he?

Suddenly, he sat straight up as an explosion of

every smell, sound, and color around him overwhelmed his

senses. He closed his eyes and put his hands over his ears.

But just as quickly his mind filtered the noise, so when he

opened his eyes again he noted that he could perceive everymoving creatures sound in the house, could identify every

smell within a six-block radius, and saw with perfect acuity

even in near total darkness every object in the room.38

For a moment, Carlisle was exhilarated and easily

pulled himself out of the pile of rotten potatoes, but when

he was free he smelled and then looked down and saw the


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dry blood that covered his shirt. He was overcome with the

desire to suck his own blood out of the fabric. And then a

deep, ravenous thirst suddenly stabbed at his insides but he

did not desire the shelves of wine, or sacks of turnips or

pickled meat in the cellar. His instincts took over, and he

sniffed out the closest available human blood a small

female, just at the top of the stairs to the cellar beyond a

flimsy wooden door, which he knew he could pulverize

quite easily.

A CHILD!? I am desiring the blood of a CHILD?!

I am plotting to kill a child!!Carlisle backed up toward to

cellar doors, struggling to push down the monstrous

craving that was rumbling deep inside him. Several times

he started toward the stairs leading up to the playing child

who was so close, such an easy meal Finally, he

managed to open the cellar doors and forced himself to

leave the cellar. He looked up at the purple morning sky,which was starting to turn slightly pink in the east as the

sun crept higher, and he closed his coat over his bloody

shirt so he would not attract attention, but that reminded

him of

He put his hand up to his neck, where the vampire

had bitten him. The bite on his neck was healed over to a

soft scar. Then he realized that it was more than a bite

mark, one soft raised line lead to another, and another. The

vampire had torn apart his neck in the attack. Suddenly he

was seized with rage, and he slammed the cellar doors with

such force that they splintered. The door handle had come

of in his hand and when he looked at it he realized his

stone-hard fingers had squeezed the thick metal as if it were

clay. He was shocked by his strength, and he ran down the


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alley for fear of being caught but realized that in a blink of

an eye he was two miles from where he had been. Carlisle

gasped and looked around him. There were not very many

people around yet, and those that were out apparently had

not seen him moving too fast for their eyes to perceive.

Fear gripped him, anger pulsed through him, thirst called

him in all directions toward the humans nearby who were

completely unaware of the newborn vampire that was

cowering between two buildings in London, covering his

head trying to block out all of the heartbeats pounding inhis ears.

When Carlisle could bear it no longer he determined

to run as far and as fast as possible away from all of the

people. He ran in short spurts, hiding from the sight of any40

human, and headed for the woods nearby. He would have

to go a long way, out of the city, past the fields of workers;he appeared to move unnoticed as he sped beyond human

sight or comprehension. When he could no longer hear any

human breath or heart beats or smell human blood, he

finally stopped and was amazed that he felt no fatigue from

his efforts. Carlisle was standing in a clearing near the

edge of the forest under a tree that had to be a thousand

years old. Only fifteen minutes had passed, the sun was

just peeking over the treetops, and he had run at least

twenty miles. For the first moment since he awoke he took

some time to think.

I cannot do this! I will not become an agent ofdeath! I will not become this monster! This must END.

Carlisle formulated the plan instantly. He sat next to

a tree completely still and calmly waited through the entire


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day, deliberately watching nothing but the slow crawl of

the sun across the sky until darkness fell again so there

would be fewer humans around to tempt his senses as he

ran. His plan might instantly condemn him to hell, but he

did not care. He preferred to go to hell for this rather than

for killing one of Gods people. He could not believe it

was such a simple choice.41

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Carlisle sat by the shore on a boulder as large as ahouse at the top of a cliff face that was hundreds of feet

from the rocky shore where white waves crashed. The

bright sunlight reflected off his diamond hard skin and the

sounds and smells of the sea and wind rolled over him like

the surf far below but he ignored everything. He wasnt

sure why he was there. He had been sitting on the boulder

for four days without moving. He had no motivation to

move, so he simply didnt. He thought rather apathetically

that he could try again to kill himself by jumping of the

cliff into the sea, but he knew that there was no hope of

success. He had jumped from the spire of Saint Pauls

Cathedral. He had stood in the flames of a glass factory.

He had leapt from the London Bridge and sat at the bottomof the Thames. He had tried every weapon he could find.

He had even stolen some holy water and drunk it. And he

had finally come to the conclusion that while his body was

whole and strong, there was nothing that could destroy its

power. Carlisle began to wonder if all of the legends

around how to kill a vampire existed because any vampire

who had been successfully killed was weakened.


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A voice of hope in the back of his mind proposed

supplemented by his church salary and the parishioners

tithes. Carlisles tuition at boarding school was always

paid on time, so he had every meal he needed. He had seen

desperate hunger before in both mens and animals eyes.

He had also seen starvation. It was the most visceral

depiction of living death that he had ever seen, in his

opinion even more graphic than a drawing and quartering

which was over quickly. Oddly, however, though Carlisle

felt he was reaching his end, his body was not wasting likethose he had seen in the slums of London; he was simply

weaker. It was as if his body had been frozen in time to an

impermeable, unchanging, indestructible force.Not so

indestructible, he promised himself. This will end.

He felt the ground vibrating underneath him. He

bolted up straight, and his nostrils flared before he could

regain control of himself. He sighed with relief. He knewthat it was not a human party. He had successfully evaded

humans for more than four months. There was no way he

would tempt himself now. He felt the comforting weakness

return to his temporarily energized muscles, until he caught

the scent. It was not human, but it called to him. Carlisle

rolled over onto his side and sniffed again. He did not

really know what he was doing until he was crawling out of

his cave and pulling himself up from the forest floor. The45

vibration was palpable now through his feet, and hecouldsee them through the trees.

Carlisle was running; where the energy came from

he did not know, but just ahead of him was what he craved,what he desired. He reached out with his hand


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When he finally looked up at the sky his vision was

much clearer than it had been. All of his senses were

heightened again. The velvety dark of the night sky above

was sparkling like the sea. He could see colors in every

shining star. The grass of the meadow around him was

turning brown, and it whispered as it blew in the chilly fall

breeze. He closed his eyes and felt the air wrap around his

cold skin, and then he felt something more viscous than

water dripping from his chin. Carlisle looked down and

saw on his hands the unmistakable crimson stains of blood,as if he hadbathedin it.

His breathing quickened as he backed away from

the body next to him, the image of its unmoving form

seared into his eyes like a hot iron. His first kill. Carlisle

began to hyperventilate, and he crawled backward away

from it though he was unable to look away. And then he

bumped into another body. As he jumped up from the

forest floor, away from his second kill, he turned his head

and saw in his field of vision four more.46

His mind suddenly took hold of his heart and said,Look at them, you fool.Carlisle closed his eyes and shook his head.I said, LOOK AT THEM.His inner voice

demanded.Carlisle opened his eyes and first looked at his

hands. They were still drenched in blood. Then he looked

back at his first kill. It was a deer. He turned to the second

another deer. He walked past all of the rest of them; there

were nine altogether.

Carlisle stood still as a statue, staring at the last one.

Its large black eyes were still and empty. He could see


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where his own teeth had ripped out its throat. Then Carlisle

realized that he wasnt hungry anymore.

Carlisle turned and ran toward the craggy peak in

the distance, his legs moving faster than they had in months

as the new blood filled his open veins, and he tracked the

herd he had attacked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~1669~~Carlisle walked through a small farmers market ona cold and cloudy afternoon in a clearing by the

crossroads47

five miles from the center of London. He still did not trust

himself to walk into the city, but when he was well fed he

felt capable of walking in this smaller community of

humans.

The market was actually just a collection of lean-tos

set up along the crossroads. There were barely thirty

humans around, and as long as Carlisle gave them a wide

berth he was able to stay in control. However, every trip

took a significant effort and caused him physical pain.

Every time he took a breath around humans, Carlisle felt as

if he was breathing in burning ash; a burning he knew

would only be quenched by satisfying his thirst for blood.When he listened in on the conversations as he

passed by, it seemed they barely took notice of the

mysterious figure who always had a hood over his head and

only came to the market when there was cloud cover. None

suspected a vampire in their midst especially not one who

did not feed on humans. He returned to his cart and began


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to pack up his wares. He had made several significant sales

that day, plenty of money for the supplies he required.

It had all started about seven months after

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some books. His clothes had been reduced to rags, with the

exposure he endured over the first few months and his

failed suicide attempts. It felt strange to have such

luxurious fabrics on his cold dead skin, but the sensation

was far more intense than he had ever realized as a mortal.

Clothing had been about utility, not comfort, in his former

life.

The books he found were all written by Greek

philosophers. He had spent a little time translating the

classics in boarding school in his Greek class, but reading

them again from an entirely different perspectiveimmediately intrigued him. He read them over and over,

even after he had memorized each page.

The weapons he put to immediate use for hunting,

but not for himself. He used his superior sight and reflexes

to kill foxes, deer, and wolves, and he sold the meat and

pelts. He had found a way to make a good living, with

minimal human contact.

Carlisle was in a hurry to leave the market because he did

not like stay among the humans any longer than he had to. But a

man on a horse arrived at the crossroads and stopped behind

him.

Good evening, sir. I can see you are leaving, but Imust trouble you for one of your warm pelts, Im afraid I

49may be ill before I reach my destination.


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Carlisle could smell his general good health, and he

guessed that he must be past his prime, but younger than

his father, probably in his forties. Carlisle could hear his

wealth with the rubbing of fine fabrics. But as he turned to

look at the man the first thing that caught his eye was the

tied stacks of books hanging from his saddlebag.

The man followed Carlisles gaze and smiled.You have an eye for reading, sir?

Carlisle nodded. I had an aptitude for science and

religion in school. My studies were forgotten for years,

until recently.

The man had not really expected such a response,

and now looked more closely at Carlisle. Carlisle instantly

shrank from the mans gaze and began to untie some of the

furs he had just put away.

The man frowned. You are a learned man, I can

see it. But something dreadful has happened. Where isyour family? Your home?

Carlisles instincts were reawakening; this human

was taking too much of an interest in him, and it was

enticing his senses. I have none, sir.

The man leaned a little closer, and Carlisle had tostop breathing to prevent the scent of blood from

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overwhelming him. Are you a Catholic? the man saidquietly and sympathetically.

Carlisle did not answer. The man took this as

something of a confirmation. My mothers sister married

into a Catholic family. They were killed and their lands

taken. I will presume for the moment that is what has

happened to you, sir, for I can see you do not wish to

discuss it. He walked over to his horse, and Carlisle took


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the opportunity to relax his face a little. The man returned

with three books. I hope you will accept this as payment

for that fine wolfs skin. He indicated the deep black fur

on the top of Carlisles collection.

Carlisle was taken aback by the generosity and

shook his head. You must know I cannot accept more

than one book in payment, sir.

The man smiled. Your honesty has proven my

instinct about you, sir. My name is Thomas Hawthorne. I

am a professor of physic, and I am to teach at TrinityCollege in Cambridge. He smiled broadly when he saw

that Carlisle recognized the college and suddenly

appreciated to whom he was speaking.

I had considered applying, but at the time, it

seemed God had other plans for me. Carlisle frowned as

he spoke.

51Hawthorne was intrigued. And what was yourintended field of study? he asked eagerly.

Carlisle shrugged. I dont remember.

Carlisles brows knit as he searched his memory, but the

desire was long gone from his human mind, and now had

completely faded as his entire existence had become

focused on surviving.Hawthorne watched the young man struggling

internally and he felt a great swell of sympathy for him. He

held out all three books to Carlisle and waited until Carlisle

took them. Carlisle handed Hawthorne the wolf skin,

which Hawthorne threw over his shoulders.

I can see you are still young, and you have likely

had a hard start to your life or lost a legacy that was due to


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you. But your thirst for knowledge is a rare thing. If you

ever find you have sufficient curiosity, I will make certain

we find you the means to study. Hawthorne bowed

slightly to Carlisle.

Carlisle bowed back, and watched with wonder as

Hawthorne rode away. Carlisle looked down at the books:

Galen, Hippocrates, and Fuchs. Carlisle opened Galen: On

the Natural Faculties.

waning moon

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