Death Calendar: Chapter One. pt.2

Pt.2

I didn’t try to follow her because I didn’t want to interrupt that pleasure of smoking during the nocturne. I would have liked watching the celestial stars sparking and glittering rather than following her, even I was quite curious about her. I walked around the swimming pool, smoking cigarette after another, forgetting about the crowd of the guests. Every birthday seemed to me like a cliché, repeating the same comedy over and over again. But this time, I started to look at things differently, which might have been because of the girl. I was quite unsure about this. All I felt at that time was I needed a change, a thorough change.

I joined the crowd again and looked for the girl among the crowd, but I didn’t find her anywhere, and this had me nervous and guilty because I acted coldly when I let her leave without even asking about her name. I hadn’t much with girls’ world, maybe this was the reason for my coldness with her. The crowd hadn’t been a part of my world -it was my parents’- but from that moment on I felt that this mysterious girl would mark a shift in my life, and I had a strong feeling that she was no ordinary girl at all. After I didn’t find her, I had to blend in the crowd and continue playing the so-called happy-birthday-to-me comedy. What an irony!

The party was over and people left but nothing was left except the void. It was a comedy and I was its hero; others were the audience who left me with so-called presents to show their appreciation for the party and to tell me how much they cared about me. That night I wished I could live alone, all alone in an empty room. I wished I could leave the house and seek my future somewhere else than home. My parents came to me and said their fake “good-night” greeting. I went to my piano and played for about an hour. Then I took off my leather jacket, going upstairs right to my room and grabbing the bulk of presents. Once I kicked the door open, I threw them on the floor then threw myself on bed like trash. Exhausted after having played the role, my eyes locked on the ceiling and my hands were behind my head.

During the party, I heard someone making a dig that I was lucky to live in such a wonderful house. They envied me for living in that void that killed me every moment. They admired those transparent glassy aquariums, but they couldn’t fathom how much those small fishes were suffering, how much they were deeply depressed of being imprisoned. Transparent things are not that transparent because if one skims over the matter, one would then know that there are some scratches over the surface. Once I watched Dexter TV show; Dexter uttered a sentence that reminded me of myself: “I’m like this cake box, empty inside”. By the way, I like this killer a lot since I find myself resembling him somehow. At least he has a father that took care of him all the time.

My life, full of nothingness, was to be reformed to have a shape, a meaning, which could have never been found. I wished there would have been a connection between me and my parents. I was too much broken to be healed once more, as much damaged as a broken glass into very small pieces. I had to cope with the situation as it was. The unknown girl seemed to take residence upon my mind. What made me flustered about this was the mystery that clouded my sky that night. Having that thought, I turned my MACBOOK on, and I played some music, some instrumentals of LINKIN PARK, my favorite metal band. The music took me far away, travelling with it miles away then fell asleep.

After sleeping for quite long hours, I woke up late as usual. The first thing I thought to take was a hot shower to refresh my soul and body. While enjoying the water pouring down my whole body, my mind still thought about the mysterious girl without my own volition. As I brushed my hair and opened my eyes excitedly- which was exquisite- as if an overwhelming power was taking me away, I decided to seek her wherever should would have been.

I got out from the shower, and this felt amazing as for the first time I would start a fresh day. I went to my drawer and took the clothes that I would wear that day: my favorite Zara shirt, D&G jeans, my beautiful Rolex watch and my shoes. I checked my watch, and it was 2:30 P.M. The next thing to do was taking a meal before going out . I didn’t know whether to take breakfast or lunch- of course, the first meal was an elegance therapy with the piano and a delightful cigarette, maybe sipping a strong black coffee. Anyway, I went to the kitchen and asked Zakia to prepare a strong coffee.

I laid on the sofa, waiting for my coffee. I lit a cigarette and thought where to go today. Zakia, with such a kindness, put the coffee next to my Yamaha piano and asked if I needed anything else. I replied no and thanked her. I sipped my coffee, and with every sip my mind unfolded a new thought, so did my heart unfolded every time a finger ran on the piano keys. I called Samir, the grinning and mischievous old man I ever knew, to prepare the car for me.

I had no clear plan where to go but I opted for spending the day in the chalet that my parents had in Essaouira- I was living in Casablanca at that time-, a beautiful one. It was a quite good place for meditation, especially in those cold nights of December. I knew I had to take a coat on as the weather would have been so cold and pitiless. While driving, I asked myself some questions: “Why am I going to this chalet?”, “Why am I going to that far place?”. For a moment, I felt like I was living without a purpose, having a nonsensical future to hope for.

As I arrived to Essaouira city, I went to a café to have some rest before I go the chalet; I took an orange juice as I was thirsty. Then I went to a supermarket to buy some food for that night. After having a marvelous tour throughout the city, I was so excited to enjoy my time in the chalet. I parked the car next the neighboring ones. The weather was cold, very cold so I had to take on my coat to warm up. I hurriedly went to the chalet. As I was seeking where I tucked the key, I heard voices inside of the chalet. I froze immediately as I heard two people laughing. Who they were?

Fuck! You wanna know, wait for the next episode!

Death Calendar: Chapter One .pt.1

CHAPTER ONE: before the calendar starts.

-Before being a killer- pt.1

Before I start talking about this part, let me prepare the next box of cigarettes which my advocate brought me last time so that I can set the mood.

I was born in a wealthy house. I had neither brother nor sister. I was the only son for my parents. Since my childhood, I liked to stay alone and never let anyone approach me. Whenever I wanted to play, I locked my room to avoid my cousins or my mother’s friends’ children, those who sought my friendship.

As my parents were wealthy, we had a driver who took me to school and back to home. At school, I made no friends, I stayed alone. Since I was wealthy and wore beautiful and expensive clothes, everyone wanted to befriend me, but I refused their friendship which wouldn’t mean anything to me. I was seeking to be one of my kind, some strange pleasure I found in being supreme than others, not because I was the only son of a wealthy family, but because I craved for my own supremacy and distinction, for the sake of myself only. My alter ego cried out for something better and different than being a walking stereotype of wealthy young man.

I never let anyone scold me or even punish me. My parents were suffering because of me, indeed. I had no boundaries, you might as well call me as a disobedient son or whatever you’d want; I don’t mind it. I did whatever I like. My life was monotonous and boring; even I had everything I wished, a MAC Book, Internet with high connection speed, a PSP, a room equipped with latest and expensive stuff, my own car, my credit card. But, I never felt happy neither in my childhood nor in my teenage.

The only pleasure I ever had was to sit before the piano. Since my childhood, my soft fingers ran over the silky keys of the piano, giving my soul that craving and sheer delight I missed among the crowd and the dull life of richness. My father bought it for me in my ninth birthday, since then I had my tutor, a vigorous and handsome young woman, who taught me how to play.

I was fond of Debussy and Beethoven. I bought almost all of their collections from the stores and downloaded any new haiku or symphonies from iTunes. The symphonies I played during night or early in the morning gave me the best feelings ever, making me forget about the boredom and about the whole shitty world. The piano was my consolation, whenever I wanted to shed tears because of I had hard times, I would find its keys consoling me.

My parents were always away. They were thinking business and meetings, but I was out of their plans. They had let me to my own devices. They just let me with my nurse who tried to play the role of a mother, but she didn’t succeed. The gap would have never been filled. I didn’t care at all since I had the piano, and my parents were just strangers to me. I didn’t love them, even they brought me everything I wished on my birthdays, but they didn’t deserve an iota of love. They never showed me love to share it with them. Birthday presents and parties weren’t what I needed.

I got used to their behavior as careless parents. Since then, I created my own world, and they-my parents- were out of it. Having friends was an idea, which I didn’t appreciate much since I knew that friends would be just cynical, and they would befriend me, only because of my social status. I would have wished finding an indeed friend who would be my friend for my person, no more no less.

Few things had changed in my life at the age of seventeen when I first met a fair gothic girl in the high school where I was studying at that time. I didn’t give her much attention, just seeing her walking or standing all alone. She would never talk to anybody, and she always looked sad. Reminding me of myself, I had the impression that there would be someone who’d feel the same as I did so that we’d share our sad moments and everything together. Though, I remained away of the idea, keeping the policy of secrecy and privacy in my life.

When I had nineteenth birthday, my parents had invited their friends who brought their sons or daughters- who apparently had the same age as mine-, and I had to act as friendly as I could, and smile at the ugly faces, which I never enjoyed looking at. I had to thank them for bringing me presents and smile every time a guest arrived. While talking to a young lady who seemed to be sweet, her name was Saida, (truth to be told, I didn’t want to mar my birthday as the last year when I acted coldly whenever someone asked me to have a stupid talk), I glanced around, and unexpectedly, I beheld the sight of the girl I had seen in high school, who attracted my attention, remember?

My eyes followed that beautiful young girl, who apparently accompanied her parents, and all I could do is stare. She might have noticed that I was staring at her, but I tried not to pay much attention for not to be distracted. I continued my chat with that Saida. After I got enough chat, I extracted myself from that crowd to go out next to the swimming pool in order to get some fresh air and smoke some Marlboro Light cigarettes. While inhaling the smoke, from nowhere the girl appeared before me.

“Do you mind if I join you, Mehdi”, asked the girl, having a glint in her eyes. “Sure, you can, with pleasure”. I gazed at her eyes for a while, and she blushed, and then looked toward the water, avoiding my eyes. I was a bit surprised that she knew my name; even we weren’t studying at the same class, but no wonder why she wouldn’t know my name if she had come to my birthday party. I took another cigarette out of the box, and lit it. We stared at each other for a while, and then she left without uttering a word. I even didn’t ask her about her name.

My apologies, I have to stop here, because I have no cigarette in this box. I shall resume the next day.

Death Calendar Crimson confessions of a killer: PROLOGUE

My name is Mehdi Adlany, and I’m a psychopath killer.

What you are going to read is a series of confessions about the people I murdered in one year. They are twelve people, no more. I’m a killer and proud to be. Now, I’m awaiting my execution. They call it execution or the fair punishment otherwise, but I, with a lucid manner, state that it is my salvation.

It’s midnight now, and I’m smoking my cigarette delightfully, maybe this is the twelfth cigarette I’m holding in my hand. I’m inhaling the smoke, burning my lungs with sheer delirium. I would enjoy the spotted images of blood, which I recall now as clear and vivid images, and I’ll definitely enjoy your company during this period of trial.

You, the seated before me, waiting for me to tell you my life story spotted with blood. I’d confess to you that I never shed a tear of remorse after I killed my victims nor I felt sorry for them. You may be wondering what it is all about. I’d tell you with utmost assurance that my life story is not that dull or uninteresting.

Yesterday, while I was reading a book, I became interested in the idea of writing one of my own. I have two weeks in front of me to finish it, and with that I admit that this is a bold move since I didn’t want to reveal any secret about the reasons that pushed me to kill those twelve people in one year, even my advocate tried hard to convince me to unveil the mystery of their death.

Let me light a new cigarette and take a deep breath, and try to find the right point from which I will start telling you about me. We shall have an enjoyable time together, I’m the storyteller and you are the listener. I promise, with utmost confidence, that you’ll not waste your time, either listening or reading- the transcript- you’ll have between your hands.

You have two choices, whether to tell you starting my childhood or from the moment I had become a killer. I’d opt for the first but I shall be brief, and you know my execution is coming soon. So, accept my apologies for the inconveniences.

Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention? This is my life story, and by the time you’re reading my story, I will have been executed, dead otherwise.

It all started with a murder in a cold evening.

Silent Assassins: Ethical Vampires. Chapter ONE, pt.2 ( Not Edited)

SILENT ASSASSINS: Ethical Vampires
DR.KEY EL-MEHDI ADLANY

Chapter One- pt.2 (first draft) :Open grave, mysteries to unveil.

What a bitterness to admit that I was trapped twice. It’s undeniable that women are all wicked and so cunning. Who’d forget the story of Samson and Delilah and the story of Adam and Eve? The apple … Oh the apple, it drove Adam out of Heaven. The kiss was the apple in my case; it was so appealing to refuse its invitation. Bright red apple, the kiss, on the crimson lips for which I had always died. I never knew what on the universe folded my mind with that veneer of blindness to stop and think about the consequence.

I reminded myself of these things once I found myself in the abyss of oblivion once more. But I was no exception to be trapped. What makes it worse is that we, male vampires (or even you, human beings –men), don’t learn from the stories we heard of. There is something wrong within us (males), The temptation has always been our enemy and our main weakness. It’s a female power over us, overwhelming and destructive.
I, pessimistic that I was, conceived her in the darkest side of my mind. As she promised to come back and release me, I convinced myself of that shadowed hope. I drunk her blood, I smelt her passion but I couldn’t smell her foxy thoughts.

In the middle of my long ponderousness about my embitterment, distant voices, at a sudden, interrupted me. What was that? I breathed heavily, not knowing what was awaiting me. Little by little, I lulled my mind, intuiting a hypothesis to soothe my psyche; maybe this was ma déesse, Sylvia, coming to fulfill her promise. This didn’t last for long as the distant voices faded away, no more echoes ringing the bells of my psyche. I was bereft of hope again, and all what I could think of is the escape, release, my eternal freedom.

I wished she wouldn’t have saved me. In my slumber, I had been quite nestled; death was a blessing for me rather than a curse because of the monotony of its company. To be alive is very equal to suffering and anguish since I couldn’t expect what would happen next, as they say, better the devil you know than the devil you don’t. In the grave twice, the first was painless but the other painful than marching on the thorns barefoot on a cold day.

Nothing was left except the void, running blind in the darkness within the darkness, tormenting me, and my psyche was swimming in an ocean of gloom. Nothing existed to soothe me and release my pain. Every part of me was crying out to get away from here.

Lost in the blackness and expecting nothing to come, my mind accepted that fate without any further hope. Such a disappointing fate would linger on forever in my memory. While pondering about my hopelessness, I heard footsteps coming closer and closer. My heart fluttered and my breaths accelerated more and more as I didn’t hear any afterwards. The door was slammed roughly, that caused me terror. Again, I heard a female voice uttering: “La clef, give it to me now”. How relieved I felt as I heard that sentence.

The grave creaked, drawing the dreadful darkness of the dead to the one of the alive. Pleased enough, I inhaled delightful breaths until pencils of light drew into my eyes, perforating them and making me clench them, I couldn’t bear it at all.

“Ouvre tes yeux pour voir le soleil quand la nuit nous accable ”, the female voice gave utterance. I opened my eyes immediately as the voiced reached to my ears, thinking no more of the pain that might be caused to them. At first, the sight was completely blurred, for that I couldn’t figure out who the woman was; shadowed creatures only what my eyes could behold. Moments later, the sight had become clearer … Mon Dieu, what my eyes beheld then, Maudit soit Lucifer.

I saw my Déesse, Sylvia, but Maudit soit Lucifer … but with who she was, oh that let me fraught of fright. It was the fucking bitch of that witch of Ophelia, the fucking vicious mistress in the Vampire Clan. I became catatonic for few seconds that seemed to be interminable. With dauntless determination, I fought my fears, ripping apart all the pictures of fright. Offering her hand, Sylvia looked at me with her bewitching jade-colored eyes, reassuring me that no harm was there, always sending unmistakable messages through her eyes. However, I didn’t know why I felt a sudden alarm; I shouldn’t repeat the same mistake or a sticker would be on my frown “ a fool”. I stood up, stepping out of the grave as if taking them out of shallow messed river.

“ You look terribly pale, Evan”, said Ophelia. Drawing nearer, she took my face between her soft hands, moving her fingernails on my skin, and passing them to separate my lips in a sensual manner. Then, she smiled at me “ Vous êtes encore sensoriel. Death takes nothing away from your charm, what you need is only feed”. I then back warded, my blood boiled with ire. What the fuck was she doing here?

Then, she turned to Sylvia, “ it’s time you feed him”. “ Sûrement, I’ll do it. Don’t even worry about it”. She stepped out, quietly, but before that she uttered “ Sylvia, you know where I’ll be. Come together, la lune est complète, and your destiny’s too”. I didn’t fathom what they referred to exactly, the moon, destiny …? This got me flustered utterly. All what I could comprehend was that I was out of the frying pan into the fire.
Sylvia drew a tad closer, “ I promised you to come back, and here I am”, her voice soft as it had used to be. Dawdling towards her, “ Shall tonight be my release, la lune est complète, as Ophelia said?”. “ Well, don’t worry. Don’t you want to feed?” she said, “ No more in the grave, mon cher”, she gave a wink. Biting her wrist and then offering it to me, I smiled at her face. Our eyes met, glistening with such a delight, and then she nodded, meaning that I could drink her blood. My fangs slid out of their volition; I buried them into her wrist, sucking with vigor the rivulets of blood. Draining her dry, I felt energetic, life spread swiftly inside of me.

“ Enough, that’s enough”, she chuckled. I drew a deep breath, and exhaled satisfaction. Afterwards, I went to sit on a chair, and so did she. “ Now, tell me about last night’s mystery, or it’s not the right time”. She raised an eyebrow at me, and then she gave a smile. “ Sûrement, but there few details that you shouldn’t know for the time being”, said she with a steady voice. I began my dip into examining her words, then I managed “ Alright, go ahead. Disclose it now, and the basic question to which I urge a reply is why you came to me to undead me that night”.

“ There are two reasons for releasing you, the first is because of my enormous love for you. The second, I shouldn’t tell, because the one who has the privilege to give an answer is our mistress, Ophelia”, said she with a steady voice, “ Things will be different starting tonight, all I could think of right now is just to get the fuck out of the coven forever. You never know what trouble had happened in the Clan since you were in here”.

I pondered her words for moments, then I uttered “ Maudit soit Lucifer, you mean there is some hazard awaiting then” said I clumsily, “ trouble is in love with us, déesse”. She chuckled, “ because we are in love with each other”, her eyes were glittering like les céléstes. How much I adored her eyes, so bewitching, always drawing me out of bitterness and apoplexy.

“ We are meant to remain lovers forever”. Before we step out of that chamber, she took my face between her hands, and then looked at me in a way that sent quivers through my spine, in her eyes something hidden, but passion and love were obvious to absorb. Our eyes met with such a bright, blazing with passion, and surely something else more intense, though I didn’t know what was it. She invited me to die once and be born twice in the burning of a strong liquor of two lips, what to tell when in her hell I fell frozen of that blazing heat. I died for that comely maiden, she was my mistress, my lover, my vixen … My everything; I loved her, I craved for the kisses on her crimson lips , for the meaning she added to my immortality. Her name within my veins, is a bloody waltz; her name was a canticle sung by my lips. Her lips erased all the hunches suggesting that she trapped me, I was under her spell.

She then interrupted our kiss, “ Evan, we should join Ophelia, she must be awaiting us”, she said while gazing at me, “ Shall we move, mon cher” added with a twinkle in her eyes. Before we step out of the chamber, she removed her necklace from around her neck, and offered it to me, “ Keep it, you’ll need it in the near future”. I held her hand, and stressed it a bit and gazed at her eyes with surprise. “ Mais .mmm mais … pourquoi? Déesse”, I stuttered. My thoughts in fragments, I knew that so much details I’m not aware of. “ Arc de Feu, carve this name in your memory”.

This is a first draft of the chapter one, pt.2
Editing will start soon to make a final draft. Please, don’t hesitate to provide feedback, anything you think should be amended, just let me know. Thank you!
COPYRIGHT © 2009 ADLANY. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Ethical Vampires, Chapitre One pt.1

The Silent Assassins: Ethical Vampires

CHAPTER ONE: The Escape

• Part.1: Undead or immortal, you choose!

That night was no ordinary night, the night that I’d be, for the first time, out of the grave in which I was punished for a mistake, a deadly and an intolerable mistake I had committed decades ago when I was a member in the Vampire Clan.

That night, a cascade of blood ran down my lips to seep into my throat, waking me out of my eternal slumber. I was punished. But in fact, even I was immured in that grave for decades, I shall admit it seemed to me like I had been in the Seven Sleeper’s Den, sleeping for many years, but woken up having the impression it had only been a single night. Immortal soul, silent corpse with no single pulse, it was the state of being neither dead nor alive, sort of blessed but rather cursed forever.

The bittersweet taste of blood spread swiftly from my lips to my whole body, taking a trip from the tip of my tongue and then moving in all along my veins, yet flowing in my brain like a fountain. A chill spread along my spine, exciting my nerve endings. My black heart rejuvenated finally.

Yes, I was being energized again, my bony fingers stretched of the electric wave that shook my whole body system. Oh!  I was getting back my consciousness. It was exquisite and unbelievable.

As the sky that rained me with those sips of blood dried up, my eyes opened widely at a sudden. But a dazzling light burned them so badly since I didn’t expect that, for that I used my left hand to avoid it  . Slowly, the light started to fade away- the shadow of someone hid it. And then, I slightly opened my eyes again. As I fully opened my eyes if born for the second time, I found Sylvia before me.

Mon Dieu, her eyes! The sight of her bewitching jade-colored eyes mesmerized me for a while that seemed to be an age of travelling into that allure. Was that the instinct or the effect of her blood within my mind? Mon Dieu! I was alive again and it was Sylvia standing right here. That was no mirage at all.  “Sylvia …” I spluttered, trying to grasp my haggard breaths.

Sylvia fixed her jade-colored eyes into mine for that I couldn’t even blink; she mesmerized me that comely maiden who appeared to bring me to life again. So what was next? Sail into an eternal moment of contemplation. That was the eloquent manner: Silence. We both tempted to read the eyes that never tell a lie or fake a truth. But though, we needed the words to revive the moment and to better communicate. Wasn’t it enjoyable? Of course it was, albeit somewhat! If silence kept on forever; then it might turn into an assassin tearing the psyche of each one of us apart.

After a while, she put a full stop on our run-on silent sentence. Words like violence break the silence. For it her lips vibrated: “You are alive again, mon cher.Tu m’as manqué l’aube de ma vie, Evan. Immortality seemed bloody boring when it’s without you.” her voice echoed like a bell so loudly, but its noise was enjoyable than the silence that painted, decades ago, my sealed fate in that grave.

I remained silent. I tried to stand up, but she crouched instead to be in an equal level with me. I just held her soft hand tightly as if I were afraid of losing her again. Sending her that message, of course, she wasn’t to mistake it, and she drew lines of a delicate, yet a devilish smile on her lips, a smile which I couldn’t help but reciprocated it .

I looked away as if I was hypnotized then regained my consciousness that had been taken by her charm, altering from the state of hypnotization of the delight of seeing her again to an outburst of fury. I released her hand as if scared of a contagious disease. I Yelled at her and asked with furious tone “why hadn’t you come before?”

Shouldn’t I say Merci ma déesse d’amour to her instead of that belligerent gesture of mine? I didn’t know what on earth pushed me to act this way.

I was perplexed, and my mind span as if it were a wheel spinning a thousand times in one second. Then I turned to her, avoiding any eye-contact with her, “Tell me, why did you come here Sylvia?” said I with a vitriolic tone. “Slow down, mon cher. I’ll tell you everything, just be patient”, she replied with a placid tone. “Don’t ask questions now, just follow me, Evan. Questions you might ask will have replies in the right time”, she added with her coaxing voice.

She summoned me to follow her into a dark corridor. I had no protest at all as if I were under a charm; making me a slave of hers. So, I had nothing to do, but heeding her command .We were marching in such a hurry to a destiny I wouldn’t know, as if we were in a certain peril. I asked her where we were going to, but she made a gesture meaning I should follow and remain silent. Could I dare?  No, my position was of weakness.

Well, I was baffled completely. A storm of dark thoughts blew violently in my twisted mind. I wondered what was it the real reason behind taking me out of the grave, and besides, I doubted that she came because she loved me. Damn it! If she really cared about me, why hadn’t she come to me decades ago to save me? My intuition sank into that thought desperately.

I had a strong feeling that there was some hazard; otherwise she would never risk coming to the grave and undead me. I shook my head of confusion that rang within my mind like bell sounding peals of alarm through my psyche.

After that we had marched for a while, we came to the end of the alley. “Here we are, Evan” she said with a sigh. “ Et après ?” said I with a questioning look, my eyes glinted. She looked away. I repeated the question again, but in vain.

She started examining the wall diligently with her hands, ignoring my presence. Her focus dropped on the wall. She was looking for something for sure. Silence settled on the place, the I broke it with a question: “ What are you looking for, Sylvia?” “ Shhhhh … pas encore”, “ Don’t rush it, why are so stubborn”. I hushed up; instead I moved my eyes in different directions to find a clue or a simple hint to help me know where we were.

The whole place immersed in dampness, the wall made of illustrated mosaics of skulls, bones. It never had happened to be in this place before. One moment! The book hang in the ceiling, the dusty statue of the snake … Certainly I had seen them before. But I could recall nothing about them; I struggled to skim over memory to get a clue, though it was kind of seared with a burning hell. What a disappointment!

After few moments, she dram her fingers of enjoyment, she found it. Bloody thing! It was a hole, surrounded with three double edged blades, next of each one there was a silver substance. I approached to her to get a close look at it. But she gave me an indifferent look, thus I back warded angrily.

Her enjoyment didn’t last.  She stepped back suddenly, “That’s insane, how could that happen, I’ve just put it myself here?”. “ Qu’est-ce qu’il y’a Sylvia?”. She didn’t reply, she was lost, her eyes blazed with anger and disappointment. “Follow me and don’t ask questions, it’s not time to explain. I have issues to solve immediately”, with a serious tone. I didn’t dare to ask the least question, it would be waste of time and energy.

What a frustrating and boring thing to pester and have no replies!

We marched again back to the chamber where I had been. As we marched, I suddenly espied someone was watching from outside. I quickened my steps a bit, and I leaned to her ear, “ La fenêtre, there’s someone there”, I whispered carefully. She gazed at me for a second, frozen of thoughts she was. Her eyes fixed on mine, bore a lucid message meaning that there was a danger and we had to quicken our steps to go back. My intuition didn’t mistake it!

“Danger?”, baffled with the thought. I had nothing to fear anyway, and I persuaded myself that I’m out of it. Again, my mind burst into confusion, I grasped her arm and fixed her with a stare. She was my mistress, but though, I should decide my destiny. Coward creature inside of me, I had to murder it tonight that I could survive, let Evan the brave be born. I had to fulfill my destiny myself. It was a daunting challenge to stand face to face with her.

“ We shall not move from here if you don’t unveil tonight’s mystery”, said I with a steady voice. “ Well, I came to you tonight, because ….”. A sudden noise came to our ears. “ Damn it”, said she gritting her teeth. “ Hurry up, otherwise we’ll be embroiled in an unwanted fight with Simone?”. We drew inward in a hurry.

“ Simone”, said I while staring at her. My head swam in the abyss of an ocean of confusion. “Yes, he’s Simone. We have no time for debate now, je vous en prie, let get away quickly before we fall in his clutches”. I sighed; my eyes were haggard of the fatigue from an interrupted eternal slumber. I grabbed my breath, and dissipated my anger.

While we were marching, I tried to make hypothesis about tonight’s mystery, but I was completely lost among the sudden events that followed my awakening, it was quite baffling. I dropped everything down, and tried to act as if  nothing concerned me, but my intuition was suggesting that I was the pivotal of this episode. “ Entre, we have arrived”.  A hint of surprise washed over my face as we got in the same place- the chamber where I had been. The pallor planted it seeds on my face, a pallor that seemed worse than death’s.

She closed the door behind her, and then sat on a chair. She asked me to sit beside her. I didn’t, instead, I leaned back to the wall, extremely exhausted. My throat was dry like a desert that never knew a drop of water on it. I could hardly speak. I struggled to verbalize the very first basic question I asked from the very beginning: “ Sylvia, why did you undead me, and why hadn’t you done it before now”. She didn’t answer, I saw some sort of puzzlement and entire confusion.

“ Qu’est-ce qu’il y’a Sylvia? I don’t understand why you are keeping silent?”, “ it’s ….”, she muttered without forming a useful sentence. She was struggling to say something, but it seemed like she was carrying the universe on her shoulders.

I stood up, and leaned forward to her, I drew my road into her eyes and scrutinized them. Sylvia, the seductive and the most powerful maiden in the Vampire Clan, it’s not her anymore. She appeared to be collapsing and so fragile.

I looked at her jade-colored eye, exactly the iris which looked like a map of bitterness,  melancholy and  fear from something perilous, the green color was no longer bright and charming as it used to be an hour prior, hypnotizing and seductive. A tear prisoner of her eye, she could neither take it away nor let it stream down her face.

She finally fought it and gasped ,“I should come back to the coven immediately, Evan. I promise, I will come back to you, mon amour, as soon as I could, and you should get back to your grave for your security”. I stepped back from her, my eyes glittered with ire and confusion, and I didn’t speak a word.I had lost the power to speak.

I struggled to verbalize my protest: “No way, tu as perdu la raison ou quoi ? I won’t come back to the grave again, decades in that grave, aren’t they enough? Why did you save me then? You state that you love me, and then you want me back in there, Qu’est ce qu’il y’a Sylvia? You are hiding something, don’t dare to deny”.

She neared me, circled my back, then with her coaxing and voice, as if she had become someone else than I saw moments ago, tingled in my ear : “Je t’aime Evan, that’s why I came to you, I know it was a harsh punishment, but you know the policies of the Lord Vampire, you broke the rules of the Clan, I’m risking my life for you now, je suis désolée, but I can’t let you out for now, I wouldn’t dare to , you never know what could happen tonight, I promise I won’t let you down”

I didn’t know what to do at that time whether to believe her or not. Should I fight her to escape?  I pondered for a moment, trying to see what winning cards I had. I’m not crazy to dare. I felt weary and disappointed as I reminded myself that I was powerless, and in her grasp I would certainly vanish. I had to give up because of my weakness. We stared at each other for a while.

She seemed to see that I didn’t trust her, and I suspected her of malice. Although she saved me, I wouldn’t trust her, pessimistic vampire that I was. All I could think of is to escape to some place where none could find me, to start my third life away of that grave. “ Don’t worry, Evan. I won’t let you down, ever. Look at my eyes, can’t you see that I indeed love you?”, she muffled.

Again and again and again and again … I was in the throes of bafflement. Trust, not to trust, trust, not to trust … My mind twisted. She approached me and looked me right in the eyes, and then she bit her wrist, and then gave me her hand. “ Drink my blood, mon cher. Take the proof, and taste it through my blood, you shall not mistake it”, she said with a tender voice. Blood smelled sweet, appealing, the smell filled my head. My fangs slid out of their volition, of course, poor thing when I saw blood, irresistible thing!

I started sipping every drop of her blood, each drop with a triple twisted lick, letting none escape. Mon Dieu, the savor of her blood was more than a delice. Starved, I’m the devil feeding on her bloody seeds. With each sip, my black heart’s beats accelerate. I was in a sheer delirium. Blood obliterated my memory to ask the question again and beg for answers. Danger? Who cares about danger existing when their thirst is sated? No one. Truth to be known, my thirst would never be sated, I always wanted more, craved for more, beseeched for more … And that was the nub of all my troubles I ever had. No brakes did I have!

“ Ma déesse, I was always dying for you, my soul beseeching you … doing anything you want me to”, said I longingly. did I drink blood or a strong liquor? It didn’t matter, I was craving for more. “ Je t’adore, Déesse Sylvia”, I chuckled, “ But how it will end?”. She looked at me. “ I don’t know”, she stated with a desolated voice. “ We must shape our destiny together ,Evan”. She paused.

Alright! That was alright that she was tied with me. But I believe that the price of bringing me alive again … would cost me a lot. She interrupted my thoughts. “ There are complications, but we shall survive, you have no replies … but soon you’ll have all the missing pieces of this puzzle, I promise”, she reassured me.  The she leaned forward, and moved her fingernails past my lips. We stared at each other for a mo, and then she started a sentence with a kiss on my lips to punctuate it by pushing me into the grave. Oups! Trapped again, more in a moment!

THE NEXT PART … COMING SOON!

Poetry, Prose and Musings from an Immortal Soul … Adlany El-Mehdi

El-Mehdi Adlany© 2009- All rights reserved.

A Perilous Predator

I died and came alive again from outer space to be a living curse
Perilous and looming when I wake up from my long death in a grave
I’m immortal or undead, you choose, you are victimized ere now
Thy destiny is bloody inscribed with two holes in your soul and body

You ought to watch how I would carve curse and immortality
Into your body and soul through my fangs when I plant them
On your neck that rewards me of that hot stream of your blood
And seldom do I let a sip of blood without a triple twisted lick

My thirst is harder to console that I can’t help my deadly frenzy
When I smell your blood from a thousand miles away of my coven
Little what you did know about how short life is when you are gifted
A kiss to say goodbye to the sun and embrace the moon of immortality

I’m a dichotomy of an unfathomable wish of a living dead predator
In between life and death I do exist, vibrating in pulses of bloody mind
Slumbering pointed teeth to awaken my frenzies seeded on thy flesh
Feeding on you, dear victimized, until my burning thirst is sated.

Utopian Ideal

I don’t know what you are trying
To be instead of yourself, silly dreamer
Deepest in your darkness, there’s light
Beautifully shining, but you are so blind
To take the pain and caress it delights.

Close your eyes pay the price for
Your heaven now, that’s the deal!
Let vanish that utopian ideal to take
You for a ride with your fantasies
That never tolerated in the policy of life

To slumber and wait for the sky’s gift
Would lead you to a shallow river of despair
Utopian ideals exist only in fairy tales
So, wash your soul with icy water of truth
Just pay it, your karma, now or never!

TAZMAMART: THE SLOWEST DEATH PENALTY

TAZMAMRT is a jail unlike any other on the planet. Anyone who’s taken in would be lucky to ever get out alive. This place is meant to be synonym for death; not even death, but something greater and more formidable than death itself. Tazmamart represents the paramount human atrocity, human cruelty and bloodcurdling crime at their best. In Tazmamart, there is no day and night, only the longest night ever, one long night stretching on to infinity; it’s an eternal night that swallows any hope of seeing the light of day again.
There, one is deprived of life and death, one has no freedom of choice, and one experiences a complete removal from life, from the category of human beings, only to endure greater mental anguish and physical suffering than one could comprehend.

The half-dead prisoners had been forgotten for so long. When I say “so long” I think about a well without depth, a tunnel dug with their fingers and teeth. The cell is permanently immersed in darkness. No one was ever allowed to step out of their cells; no one was ever allowed to steal a thin ray of the sun in a kingdom called ‘the kingdom of Sun’, never to relish the breath of fresh air that should be free for all.

The cell contained two covers messed with the worst smells of sweat, urine and animal excrement, and a sharp flagstone meant to be their “comfortable” bed. The toilet was just a small hole in the ground. Ugliest of all is the fact that they have only five liters of water every twenty-four hours for all their needs. Tazmamart can be considered as a come back to the middle ages – no, it’s going back to an even more primitive era – no toothpaste and toothbrush, no soap, no hygienic paper, no books, no candles, no clothes, NOTHING! In Tazmamart, they had to learn about forgetting how to smell, they hadn’t to close their noses to prevent the bad smells from filling their heads. They had to open their noses and get used to it and never to smell anything.

Once, an unlucky prisoner dropped a piece of his old clothes in the hole of the toilet. He spent months trying to get it out of there, he urinated and defecated next to the hole, he tried hundreds of times, but in vain. He implored the guards to change the cell, but they laughed at him, they were a perfect example of sadism. The hole of that damned toilet made his life a small lake of misery; it prevented him from moving in his two-meter cell. He couldn’t bear that cruelty, he cried out, protesting against the unfairness. When he knew that his attempts would lead nowhere, he took a stone and started to hit the door of the cell with all his strength. He continued doing that for about three days without ever stopping. Then, all of a sudden, a wave of silence covered the whole jail – he had joined the other world.

Another prisoner broke an old transistor that he had kept before entering that hell, fearing that the guards would come in and find it. He put the small pieces in that cursed hole of toilet. He spent half his life trying to get it out of there; his cell became messed and beyond disgusting. The poor man had become a hostel of all kinds of illnesses; no doctor visited him, no additional water to care for him, no medicines … Nothing, but the destruction, the despair. Alas, that prisoner had become paralyzed, couldn’t move any of his limbs, except his right hand and his head. He spent more than eleven years defecating on his “bed”. Incredibly, he became another creature weighing less than 40 KGs, the meat started rotting, letting the bones and ribs appear, and enduring the most unbearable suffering ever. However, he kept the smile on his distorted face. He died after a long agony. He was then quickly removed to join the world of the dead. The guards took him in his messed covers filled with urine and shit, then they threw him in a hole that they had made, and finally put acid on him to vanish, clearing all traces that this heinous crime had ever occurred.

Again, we talk about the damned hole of toilet. A prisoner got scared of what had happened to his friends, he defecated in the plastic dish which is mainly for food. Then, he washed it and emptied that dish in the “hole”. Then, he felt satisfied that the hole wouldn’t curse him, too. Another example, a prisoner depending on water, he couldn’t defecate unless he used his hands. One more prisoner fell ill for so long; he started bleeding from his anus, moaning all throughout his eternal night. He spent years suffering until his candle was blown out.

In Tazmamart, death should take its time. It shouldn’t forget any limb of the human body – all the limbs should endure the suffering and the endless pain. To help death spread slowly, the guards brought the worst kinds of food: coffee with the most horrendous tastes- a prisoner, known for his sense of humor, always told his friends: “ That’s what I call the juice of dirty sock”, meager amounts of bread as hard as stones, tasteless sauce, no meat, no vegetables. Once, the guards brought a strange meal, the prisoners felt so happy that they would eat meat in Tazmamart. Another prisoner shouted: ‘Friends, it’s the meat of rat, I felt the fluff between my teeth!’ Most of them laughed, because it was a funny joke of destiny and they had to accept anything that humans can’t, and shouldn’t, have to accept. They were then excluded from the ‘human beings’ category altogether.

Parlant d’Amour … ! ( Impressions)

Quand les gens tombent amoureux, ils pensent que l’amour est un champ de plus belles fleurs dans ce monde, un champ fécond plein de fruits, un ciel avec des belles célestes. Le bien aimé pense d’avoir son bien aimé à ses côtés tout les jours, lui faisant des câlins et des baisers, lui racontant des anecdotes, lui disant des poèmes, faisant des rêve pour un futur brillant. Mais, ils oublient quand il y’a des fleurs, il y’a des épines aussi ; quand il y’a des moments de joie, il y’a le risque des moments de tristesse et de dépression, des nuits d’orage.

L’amour est comme les récolte, il faut leur temps. En plus, le champ n’est pas toujours fécond comme ils pensent, il vient le temps de sécheresse, les orages qui détruisent tout ce qui est beau. Ils ne trouveront rien par la suite. Puis, ils finissent par la rupture, même il y’a de chance pour tout réparer, ce qui manque dans le cas, ils oublient totalement tout ce qui était merveilleux d’ailleurs. Il faut avoir prévu tout ce qui est mauvais, parce que si on rêve de l’idéal, la déception sera la notre.

L’amour comme j’ai dis est comme les récoltes, si on abandonne le champ car il est devenu infécond, on aura fait une faute inadmissible et totalement stupide. A la place d’abandonner, pourquoi pas penser à chercher où vient il le problème et essayer de le résoudre, même s’il y’a de la sécheresse, les amoureux doivent chercher une source d’eau même goutte par goutte pour arroser et survivre leur amour en ayant l’espoir que les beaux temps reviennent encore une fois.

THE MUSEUM

I still remember, it was a windy night
When I made my mind to go to a museum
I had been very excited along the way
Reaching the invisible chariot to there.

I was there, in the museum, extremely blithe
Suddenly, a strange feeling possessed me inside.
The museum’s painting was sick like the moon
Between the tired rows and the thin wall

A vampire trying to get out of the sculpture
He had been so bloodless, longing for blood
Taking a large sharp knife in his mouth
Piercing the iron from under his nails.

Over a dusty table, there was a book
A black book, with yellow crinkled pages
I turned the pages, scrutinizing slowly
I found out he secret of happiness is fake.