Carnations, the original flower of death...

The Beginning, The End,

        A long time ago, carnations wer considered the flower of death because of their ability to cover the smell of rotting corpses in peoples homes. Maybe that's why the Vampire left me a carnation, or maybe its because he knows what they mean to me. Either way, I was afraid to know or understand the reasoning behind the night that I knew him. He had been right, whether I admitted it or not, I hadn't been living then. I was just prolonging the time before my death.

       I can't remember much of the whole week before the attack, or even that night, but I can remember things I spent years trying to forget.But those memories mean nothing to me. What matters is that I remember that night, and the following morning. I saved the carnation, placing it between two pages in one of my favortie hard backs. I also saved the note with the ribbon, for it was the only evidence I had that he existed. For all I know, without that note, the whole thing could have been just hallucinations caused by my failed suicide attempt.

      What mattered to me was that I remembered anything I could about the Vampire. I wanted to remember everything about him.  What he looked like, his voice, and even what he smelled like. I wanted to recognize him if I ever came across him again.

      This is what I remember; he was very tall (taller than me, about six feet something), he was slim and moderately muscled (for he did wrestle me to the ground in order to drink my blood), he had dark eyes most likely bronw, and the smell of old books, old books and the salty smell of the sea. He sounded like what you would imagine the lead singer of any number of bands would sound like, a sweet deep tone, like a whisper yet strong. He seemed to be everything vampires were supposed to be, good looking, romantic, and polite. He was probably anything but that under normal circumstances, pompous and in control. He had shaggy black hair with streaks og gray, white red and blue. All of these things some girls might have fallen for, they might have forgiven him for his attack on me. I hated him for letting me live, and vengeance would be mine. His blood would be mine.