Path of the Vampire forum

"Darkness, imprisoning me, all that I see, absolute horror. I cannot live, I cannot die…"

There was nothing glamorous about death. Sad but true - death was not sweet and charming as so often portrayed in the movies; a gentle smile, a final sparkle of the eyes, one last caress, and an almost romantic fade to black scenario. Watching a loved one reach the end of the line, witnessing the struggle within as they tried to escape death, could be pure torture. Aaron’s uncle Tony had died from cancer when Aaron was just 8-years old. It wasn’t a quick, painless passing to the “other side”; turn the page from life to death in an instant. No, it was a lingering, creeping death, the cancer being the bad seed, the thorn within that had no cure and continued to spread like cyanide flowing through the contaminated bloodstream. The only positive was that the family could say their final goodbyes as they waited, killing time, for the day that never comes, until, of course, it finally arrived. On such days, the world is blanked out. Nothing else matters except for the overwhelming grief and the unnamed feeling of utter despair. A totally helpless sensation takes over as the realization sinks in: the wait is over; death has arrived.

There is also the instant death, the death that is completely unexpected when no goodbyes can be exchanged and no outstanding issues can be resolved. That was the case with Aaron’s father, Raymond. Nobody suspected that 11th September, 2001 would be the abusive father’s final day, that the fire-fighter would be one among thousands for whom the bell tolls. Guilt was in the eye of the beholder, and Aaron was always held responsible in his father’s eyes for his mother’s decent into alcohol and painkiller dependency. Raymond Hunter’s sudden death prevented any kind of reconciliation. There was no opportunity to purify his soul and have the burden of guilt released from his shoulders. Aaron would remain the unforgiven son. Aaron hated his father’s holier than thou attitude and the fact that he held himself unaccountable for his wife’s demise. At the funeral, Aaron had shown no remorse for his alleged crimes, as he believed that the real culprit, his father, had finally received his comeuppance… and justice for all, right?

How strange that now, faced with his own imminent death at the hands of the thing that should not be - the vampire huntress – Aaron’s opinion had radically changed. He continually asked himself a question: “Am I evil?” to which he repeatedly answered with “Yes, I am.” This assault was his punishment. He had been sentenced to death. The merciless female killer had surely been sent to seek and destroy Aaron.

One of the worst things about a beating is that although the wounds heal, the memory remains. The damn had been breached by the fiery demons in his head, and all the horrific memories that had been trapped under ice were now flooding into Aarons’s crazed brain as his defences melted away. He began to lose his grip on reality as he clung on to the frayed ends of sanity, his mind twisting and turning through the never, trying to assimilate what was happening. The physical pain was intense, almost incomprehensible, as the vampire’s whiplash claws tore at his flesh, her lust for blood the fuel that drove her forward. It was a frantic assault, a battery, a blitzkrieg of suffering. It was like being inside an electrical storm with bolts of pure energy crashing into him. Aaron tried to ride the lightning attack, but he had no chance of survival. He stood at the edge of the abyss, poised to jump in the fire and face the demons, face some kind of monster that had tormented him for decades. Would his own inner demons come to his aid? Would he be able to fight fire with fire? Would St. Forgiveness rescue him with open arms from this devil’s dance and say “welcome home, all is forgiven”, or would St. Anger cast him aside to the Grim Reaper, the Harvester of Sorrow?

On his deathbed, Aaron’s uncle Tony gave some words of wisdom to his family. He said that he now understood the meaning of life: that to live is to die because it completes the circle of life. So what did that mean? Was Uncle Tony suddenly enlightened or was he simply stone cold crazy because the cancer had pickled his brain and left him in a sanitarium? Aaron was about to find out, as an inner voice spoke to him, telling him “that was just your life, now it’s time for your death”. Childhood bedtime stories took over his consciousness as Aaron regressed, soothing his dying body, as the voice told him to take its hand and head off to Neverland. Then there was nothing, and his mind blackened. Exit light, enter sandman…

Welcome to where time stands still
No one leaves and no one will
Moon is full, never seems to change -Sanitarium

Vega looked down upon the one who was now hers. He was the ONE she had chosen, he was now in her charge. She looked at his blood stained t shirt and limp body and knew she had to get him out of this alley. With great speed she ripped the rest of his t-shirt off and used it like a sponge...to soak up any of the remaining blood. Vega cleaned him..the best she could. Between the t shirt and her own tongue, Vega removed as much as the blood as she could. Now, she thought..she needed something to cover him up with while she moved him… she thought back to the bar and how people left their jackets hanging over the bar stools as they danced or when they went to hit on some drunk chic. She needed to get something from the bar they had just left.

With great speed and stealth, Vega made her way back into the bar and out without even being noticed. The crowd was definitely more intoxicated that it was prior to Aaron and Vega leaving...thrown over her shoulder was a black leather coat, slightly worn. It would be a perfect fit for him...perfect.

Vega made her way back to the doorway that housed Aaron..she picked his lifeless body up, ever so gently and dressed him in the supple leather coat she had stolen. While one arm held him, the other zipped the jacket to his chin..covering the massive chest wound. Without a thought, Vega slung one of his arms over her shoulder and lifted him up. he was much taller than her, which worked to her advantage. She looked like a sweet girlfriend, supporting her man that had drunk just a bit too much. She knew where she had to take him..to the warehouse. the same spot that she came to..safely and without notice.

As they made her way down the street, Vega walked with head held high. She felt his blood racing through her..she felt a strength that she had not yet felt before..at least not as intense as she did now. As they walked, Vega spoke to him… “ The pain that you feel now will soon be gone..it will be replaced by power..such great power. You are free, free from all that held you captive before...free to be who you want and to do what you want. You, Aaron..are now a vampire… Oh what wondrous things we will discover. You have been brought into a family, one of blood and power...you are now my family.”

As Vega carried him down the street..she felt that something was missing. She had not felt Carmen since she locked her up and away. Maybe it was for the best, as Carmen would surely not take kindly to this new ONE...

Aaron Hunter was not overly religious. He believed in a “God”, but he certainly wasn’t convinced that the omnipotent being was some bearded guy sitting on a cloud, as was so often depicted in paintings and stories. Aaron was more of the persuasion that “God” was simply some kind of positive force in the universe, maybe some kind of freaky super-powered alien life form that tried to even out everything in existence and keep things in check. Cosmic karma. The main reason that Aaron held onto some kind of belief in a higher being or force was not particularly because he marvelled at all the wonders in the world and the goodness within people’s hearts, but more because he knew that evil existed. He had witnessed true evil in the form of his father behaving like a man possessed by a hellish demon. He had seen drugs and excessive alcohol consumption infest his mother like nightmarish monsters. Aaron was very pragmatic in his approach to religion and thought that there must be balance. Every action must have an equal and opposite reaction, so if such pure evil existed, and hell could be unleashed on a person, then it figured that angels and some kind of heaven must also exist.

Aaron didn’t think that angels were some kind of overgrown pixies with wings borrowed from the backs of swans, nor did he think that heaven was an actual place. He simply believed that angels were normal people doing deeds of kindness, and that heaven was more of a state of mind, a place of tranquillity. However, he also didn’t believe that demons were actual creatures with fangs and eyes of burning fire, yet only a few moments earlier, a beautiful young woman had transformed into a terrifying beast in front of his own disbelieving eyes. In his mind, his confused and twisted mind, he had stared into the abyss that was surely hell, ready to be consumed by the flames and punished for all eternity for his sins. Aaron’s damnation had arrived and he was about to finally discover if there really was a hell and a heaven. Why, then, had the vampire huntress mentioned crazy phrases like “this is not death… it is a rebirth” and “you will have enormous strength… and powers”? Was she just some kind of insane, bloodthirsty killer, or was there something more to her words?

Just before Aaron’s mortal body gave up on life, a word entered his dying thoughts: purgatory. It was neither heaven nor hell, but a void in between where spiritual cleansing could take place. Was Aaron's destiny to be imprisoned in limbo, begging his father for forgiveness so that he could finally rest in peace?

The question would not be answered now, not while Aaron’s limp body was being dragged down the dark alleyways towards an old, long since abandoned warehouse. His mind was blank, a silent sea of never ending blackness. The dark-haired woman had feasted ravenously upon Aaron, taking his juice into her hungry mouth, quenching her own thirst as she swallowed, but leaving him cold, grey and exsanguinated, like a dehydrated husk. Were it not for the brief moment that the slayer brought her own sweet blood to his lips, allowing Aaron to taste her, and for their lifeblood to mix, then the drummer would have slipped away into oblivion. As it was, unbeknown to Aaron, he would eventually awaken, but his “life” would never be the same. Never.