Path of the Vampire forum

December 21st 2012 Entry 1

I’ve never kept a journal before, but I am told it is good for the soul and mind. To release your day’s worth of trials and woes was most definitely a comfort. I imagine had I kept this sort of reminiscence, then perhaps I wouldn’t have felt so overwhelmed since day one of my arrival. So I shall start at the beginning and end at the end. If it ever does.

My name is Mi Sun Broussard. Not many people know the meaning and so I will explain.
Isidora is derived from old Greek Latin. It means gift of Isis. Mi Sun means beauty and goddess. I would not like to be thought of as any soft of goddess, as God himself is the only one that I worship and have adoration for. My day of birth falls on what the people of Canada and the United States call new years. I must admit, that growing up we never gave much thought to this holiday; and so I can not see the excitement in celebrating it, even now. Many holidays’ that are celebrated here seem trivial and rather expensive. I’ve received quite a few gifts and though it warmed my cold, dead heart, I am not sure I understand the meaning of these gestures.

It was very true that baby Jesus, was given three gifts the night of his birth. The Magi had brought my Lord’s only son three gifts: Frankincense, Myrrh and gold. However, these people seem to flood the stores and malls in search of numerous gifts. They spend hundreds, even thousands on occasions of which I have seen. This is not the Christmas I was born and raised to believe in. Our day consisted of going out to the villages and spreading the love of our Lord and Jesus. It was a day of being thankful, for what God had bestowed upon us; it was a day to rejoice in other’s happiness. Though I must admit, any gifts we did receive were from the other missionary families’. Some were from the states and others consisted of places around the globe. They would send us bibles, dresses, extra food rations, and sometime even a small doll or two, depending on how old some of my siblings were at the time. But that was it. That were no extravagant trees, decorated from top to bottom as well as there was no Santa Claus. A myth that I still haven’t wrapped my brain around. Just another lie told to children around the world.

Now perhaps I was rather vague about my family, so I will elaborate as to who I give credit to and why we were in the position to give ourselves to the wonderful people of Togo, Africa. My Father’s name is Patrice Broussard I. He was born and raised in Paris, France. He had only spoken of his former history one or twice, but from what I gathered he lived very well. Papa was to become a priest, but had found his way to becoming a missionary to those less fortunate than he, and always needed to be aware of the word of the Lord. He eventually made his way to South Korea. There he met my Mother, Soo Yun. They wed and were blessed with eleven beautiful, talented children. Patrice Jae is the eldest male, and then Francois Dae Jung and Fabrice Dae Hyun, whom are twins, third down the line is Estelle Aae Sook, whom is the eldest female. From there it goes as follows: Andre Bae, Clarice Hana, Cyndale Astree Eun Ae, her twin Abelle Eun Mi, myself, Laurentine Hye Su and my youngest brother Seraphine Jin Aae. That is all of us. I am told that is enough to start a small army.

Some of us were born in South Korea, and then moved, and some were born right in Togo. In either case, we were one, under the same roof for the majority of our years together. To my current knowledge, all of but three of my siblings now reside in Harper Rock. My brother and I have just opened our first business, calling it Broussard Café. I must say I am rather excited about this new endeavor.

At any rate, my family was raised to believe in the one true church and faith. That being the catholic faith and traditions. I do not regret, as some of my siblings do, that we were born and raised this way, but I see it as a blessing. Unfortunately, recently I seemed to have lost my way. When I came to Harper Rock, I was confused, scared, even intimidated. I had been lied to on the plane portion of my trip from Paris. I was told that my direction was wrong and that the family I sought out to host me while I went to seminary school no longer lived in Paris but instead lived in a small place called Harper Rock. It didn’t take my long to see the error in my naïve ways. There had been little time in between, before I was swept away and caught up in apparently the city’s first raid. My distant cousin Emanuel Broussard led a gang of individuals of which I found myself a part of. But like any family member whether it is distant or not, I felt compelled to defend. We lost. I was sent to a place called the shadow realm by a woman named Sophia Moretti, whom apparently hates anything with the surname Broussard attached. I have many questions for her, once the time is right.

I have taken the path of shadows and am having problems with containing my anger as of late. My love and future partner has said that eventually it would consume me. Thankfully I was delivered into the hands of a lovely man named Robert Pratt, and even though we no longer see eye to eye. He will always be in my heart. He ran a very peaceful group called Solace and though their beliefs were different from mine, I swore to Lizzie that I would always be an ally, should they ever need me. I have come to understand my true calling I believe. And it wasn’t until I stopped praying and nearly cursing my God, for not answering me, that he finally spoke to my heart. This city was always meant to be my home. I was sent her by God to spread my love and joy to all those I might come in contact with; and for that I am truly grateful.

Things have changed rather quickly in the past few weeks. Since my departure from Solace, I have found myself in a new home. They call themselves Deux Corbeaux. It is a lovely family ran by Lady Elizabeth . Not only is she beautiful but very accommodating. There wasn’t much a gap between my departure from Solace and unfortunate loss of family, and when Morghan and I became close friends. This right here is why I still believe in miracles. As I read the paper one evening, while relaxing in the study, I came across a hiring ad for the Honeymead Library. It seemed Morghan had taken over and was now seeking willing individuals to aid her in this new journey. I was one. I do believe this was an act of God, and though they may not see it, my eyes are open daily to receive his good will. Morghan and I became friends almost immediately. Not only does she have a kind soul but a giving heart. I am truly thankful for both ladies being guided into my “life”. They have given me much joy, along with the understanding that not all that abide here are evil, with malicious intent.
Now there is the matter of my one and only love. Liam. I do believe he is a man of good intent, though sometime I think he is blindsided by the foolishness of the city. I’ve often given thought, to what I would have become had he not found me and rescued me that night. Whose hands would I have fallen into? My enemies I would imagine and more than likely sent back to shadow realm. I can not imagine being punished to that place once more. It changed me. Liam has been the only true, steady person I have found and for so long. We are engaged to be married soon, though the wedding was called off already for one or more reasons. Another thing I have often given thought to as well; is his faithfulness to me. There shouldn’t be a doubt in my mind that he is mine and mine only, but this city seems to talk even when no questions are asked. He seems to have a reputation as ladies man and a heart breaker. What happens if and when I no longer entertain his needs and desires? I hate to even think about these things, but unfortunately from the level of infidelity of other’s in Harper, the odds are against us. If he should ever leave, I do not think I could contain the shadows that scream some nights to be released.

Finally in conclusion to this lengthy entry. I have finally found music outside of classical and classic jazz, a more contemporary genre. Some words I have found soothing and uplifting in this time of transition is this:

Time to escape
The clutches of a name
No this is not the game
It’s just the beginning

I don’t believe in fate
But the bottom line
It’s time to pay
You know you’ve got it coming

This is war.

January 4th 2013

This snow is nothing like I have ever seen. It is the definition of serenity and peace. Each flake has a different pattern, which is rather hard to conceive. There are so many snowflakes, just like there are so many people, each very different than the other, each going in different directions. It is all quite surreal, and in lieu of it all I seem to have lost my way. This is yet another lesson learned in this journey we call damnation or some of us still call life.

Happy New Year’s is what I have heard much of the past few days. This apparently symbolizes the turning of a new year, across most of the world, with the exception of a few countries and religions. My upbringing was not one to make such a big deal of these trivial things, and I’m sure it wasn’t that my Father wasn’t aware of it, but it was just another way for us to loose ourselves in worldly configurations. It seems I have done exactly that however; lost myself in the desires and manipulations of the flesh. I am reminded of several verses from the bible that has seen me through most obstacles so far in my life. One in particular is Corinthians 13:4-7. It says:

“ Love is patient and kind, love does not envy or boast; it is not ignorant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes in things, hopes all things, endures all things.”

This has always been my belief, though I am not sure what has happened to me as of late. I seem to be much more taken by my own personal desires, rather than those that God has lain before me. Perhaps this is one of many trial and tribulations I am forced to hurdle over, or maybe this is just my minds eye of rejecting what stands before me. January 2nd 2013, I was presented with an ultimatum from my beloved Liam and though I do not find it fair or respectful on his part, I am still indebted to him. He found me when I was left alone, in a city full of predators; he taught me things that I never would have learned otherwise; he’s even taken my purity and had intentions of making me into an honest woman, and with no questions asked, has even taken in my sister Laurentine as his own child. I am confused, hurt, angry and above all else regretful. Not to any man or false idols, but to you my Lord.

Tonight I have made the decision to return home to Africa. I’ve been living a lie since July, and I believe this contributes to my downfalls since my arrival to Harper Rock. I am not entirely sure my parents or remaining siblings will take me back, but my hopes are high, as I miss my family very much. My father is who I worry about the most. His values and views on many things do not coincide with barely anything that goes on in this place; but I believe he is a just man, and before all else a man of God. He has to love me unconditionally, that is what God would want and what the bible says. Also as a result of my homecoming, I am hoping to retrieve my collection of books as well.

I am conflicted as I’ve had to lie to numerous flight attendant’s and airlines, giving a rough explanation in regards to my ‘severe skin allergy to sunlight’. As much as it does sound logical, I couldn’t help but feel as if what I said was not the whole truth. It doesn’t matter much now; and protecting the masquerade is still something to consider even when leaving the city. From Canada to France, France to Lome, and Lome to Sokode. It will take me nearly 20 hours to complete my trip back home. I hope my arrival is a most gracious one.

January 5th 2013

I have finally arrived. I’m back home in Sokode. Unfortunately I am spending the day in an abandoned hut, just south east of home and will make my arrival at nightfall. There is a very surreal feeling as I recognize areas that frequented before; it all just looks so…different but still the same. I know it makes no sense but, it’s like a whole new Sokode. The smell’s are more vibrant, colors and objects seem to pop out on me. It’s beautiful in a whole new sense of the word.

I’ve had a lot of time to think between the plane rides over and my night’s stay. The one question that runs through my mind would be: What if they don’t love me anymore? How heart wrenching that would be, to know my own parents have forgotten to care for me. Another that plagues my mind is: What if they aren’t there any longer? What if finally my family has relocated, and I have lose them forever. While it’s easy to have the resources in finding individuals, I still would find it rather hard to track them down, if in other outskirts such as these. Perhaps I shouldn’t question, but I can’t help but wonder these things, so close to my homeland.

I am about 30 miles away and about three or four hours away from nightfall. I shall get some rest and return here, if not allowed access to my old dwellings. Goodnight for now.

January 6th 2013 (early evening)

My rest was well. I still can’t get over how beautiful my homeland looks. Behind me I could see where the sun had set, there was just a slight pink horizon, trees filling in the blank areas. Oh how I wish I could have absorbed more of its beauty while I had lived here, but there was no time like the current. A few moments and I were transformed back to my former self; my hands tucked behind my back, a pleased smile crept across my dry lips. I could even feel the warmth of the now unusual climate hitting my pale, unexcited skin. Who said that vampires couldn’t feel climate change? Or perhaps it was just my memories that played tricks on me. I didn’t know and I didn’t care. This was heaven on earth. Thank you God for your beauty that you have bestowed on your children.

7 pm

Just as thankful I was for his beauty, I was just as thankful for my heightened senses in the darkness. This land would otherwise paralyze oneself, if trying to maneuver through the dark forests and hidden traps set by hunters. I found it rather easy on my end, and what would have otherwise been a half an hour’s travel, it took me only fifteen minutes tops.

There I stood gazing from the trees that shadowed over my old home, I could smell and hear the sounds of my family, which did nothing but bring a smile to my weary face. They were there; they were alive and well. There was a different noise however, one I hadn’t heard in quite sometime. The sounds of a newborn. A healthy, I was sure, beautiful newborn baby; and by my former experiences with family births, it was the sound of a baby girl. How exciting. Had I a heart it would have fluttered right out of my chest. I wanted to run, seek out the newest arrival, hold him, and be with him….be with them. But I knew it couldn’t and wouldn’t work quite that way yet. I had to ease my way into the current situation.

Slowly I made my way down through the trees and into a clearing. The same clearing I had stood so many times, waiting on my father to take me on our daily walks, where he shared and taught me about God’s laws and word. Oh how the memories brought an ache to my dead heart, it nearly brought tears to my eyes; or those that I called tears these days.

In all things one must remain faithful and calm. It wasn’t much of a bible verse, but more of a self guide to recognizing one’s goals and abilities to make sound judgments.

Carefully I stepped out, the moonlight catching the red highlights in my hair, the trees making their reflection off my amber eyes. I felt like a deer caught in highlights as my second eldest brother emerged from the hut, only a few feet from where I stood. Our eyes met, I could see his Adam’s apple wiggle as he swallowed hard. It was obvious he was on the edge of calling out for help, given my current appearance, and I would have understood, but I couldn’t let him. In all my months having lived in Harper Rock, it was a natural instinct now to protect myself.

“No Francois! Wait!” my quivering voice called out to him, a hand outstretched even from feet away. I could have caught him no problem, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt to not run and face me head on.

“Isidora?” he called out and I nodded, making my steps now in his direction.

“Yes Francois it’s me,” I could see the tears in his eyes, which brought a pain in my body. So intense. So real. It hurt. “Please don’t run,” my tone turned into a begging as both of us stopped in our tracks. He could tell I had changed. I knew this because he covered his gaping mouth, tears streaming down his face.

“Is Father home?” perhaps it had been too bold of me and selfish to use that as a first question. After all, there was several other members’ still alive and well here, or so I hoped.

It took him a moment but he shook his head, finally coming out of his state of shock. “No Isi he is not with us,” I paid no mind to this. There had been plenty of occasions where my father was gone for months at a time, sometime on other missionary ventures, sometime to go out for supplies, and sometime to even return back to France for various reasons. So this time was no different, or so I figured.

“Momma? Is she home?” he nodded and I made my way closer, eventually taking him into my arms and squeezing him into a loving embrace. I had never hugged and been hugged by anyone so intensely in my life.

“Where have you been Isi, we have been worried sick,” I could feel his tears stream down my back as his head crooked into my neck, given my height was considerable to his.

“There, there Francois,” my soothing voice hushed him accompanied by an assuring pat on his back. “All is well. I am alive and well,” Indeed I was.

His sobs stopped and I could hear footsteps from my old abode. Fabrice’s twin it was. His identical of which both faces now lit up my countenance. How good it was to see them both, healthy, well and alive. All but the pair had come to Harper Rock, and it was just as well. My mother would never have survived on her own, and it was rather sad to see how many of us had left so willingly, my youngest brother Seraphine in particular. I had heard it was my sister Abelle’s doing that brought him to Harper Rock. How selfish it had been of her.

“Isidora!” Francois had always been more outgoing than Frabrice, it was in his nature.

“Francois!” my long arm’s extended outwards to wrap around them both, as he came running. The hug was exaggerated, longing, needing. I wanted to stay forever, but the brief thought was quickly dissipating by the looming look in my Mother’s eyes, when I was caught staring past the two, the clearance and at the hut.

Letting my arms fall, I had to stifle myself from running to her. I just stared. She looked…old. Tired. Weak and sad. Giving the pair a gentle hand squeeze, they silently understood and accompanied me to the front doors. It wasn’t until then that I realized my substantial height, the memories of constantly hitting my head against the low rise doorways, now flooding back to me.

“Momma,” I had to try my hardest to not let the shadows take me over, fought back to black film that threatened to darken my eyes. “Momma I have missed you so…”but my words were broken by her warm embrace. I clung to her like a childe, her arms were so familiar, comforting, revealing in her good nature.

“Come in my Isidora,” he loving gesture, ushered us into the two room abode, as she closed the door gently behind her.

It was just as I had remembered. A few candles lit to brighten up the dingy, depressing atmosphere; her bible rested neatly on a pillow, that she called her seat; a pot loomed over the brick stove and oven, water boiling of which I assumed was being sterilized for the baby. It was the perfect scenery. I missed it. I loved it. I didn’t want to leave.

“You have been blessed again,” I spoke softly, reaching down to hold her hand now, my cold skin I was sure surprising to her touch, but she didn’t even flinch. It was like she knew.

“A boy,” she responded in her native Korean language, making it very apparent my father was indeed not home. He had for years insisted she speak in French, but when on her own she reverted back to her native habits for the most part. It had been the only thing I had ever seen her not comply with when it came to my Father. “His name is Chayne Kwan” I could see her gaze into my eyes, which forced me to lower them out of embarrassment and respect. It was rare she looked at me this way; all I could do was my best to conceal my newly found appearance. “Come, you hold him now,” her experience hands, reached for the baby, handing him off to me.

So soft. Innocent. Perfect. And again he was another red head. Forcing a smile again to my lips I couldn’t help but tease her. “This has happened again I see?” the jesting made her laugh back and brush her hand lightly over the child’s head full of ginger curls. He wasn’t like Abelle and Andre though, he had eyes of amber just like mine. He was stunning.

“Yes, yes he is.” my Mother laughed softly, though it was laced with pain, and this time ran a hand over my head instead.

It took a moment for me to realize how empty this small home had truly become. I could remember hot summer days, the house full to the brim of siblings, my mother, my father, and even some villagers that my Father had managed to convert and save. This…this was sad. The walls nearly echoed when we spoke, and the looks in all their eyes was less than joyous.

“Where is papa?” I began bouncing the cooing baby in my arms. It was almost uncanny how much he looked like Andre. It was hard to not get caught up in his innocence and even harder to not sense the mood in the room atmosphere change when the question was presented.

My mother placed a hand on my shoulder, took the baby and handed him to Francois. I knew something wasn’t right then and there. There was never a pause in her voice, not like it was then. “Come sit with me Isadora…it has been some time since you came to see us,” I should have known from there that something was wrong, but I still complied happily. Kissing the child on its forehead I realized how much life I had really lost in the process of my current living arrangements.

Francois nodded his head and I could see the hesitation on his face as I followed her into the next room. There were only two rooms as I mentioned before, and THIS room in particular held so many memories. Torrential downpours had soaked so much of the land around us, you could barely get outside without sinking, but somehow THEY found a way in. I was only ten when it happened, and it’s stuck into my memory even to this day. It was the night they killed Estelle. It was also a night that I believe shaped most of my sibling’s lives’ forever. That however I will save for another journal entry.

With my mother in tow behind me, she sat me down on the edge of MY old bed actually, a candle lit serenely in the corner as usual. I could see it in her eyes, that disturbing news was on the horizon. “Where is papa?” I knew patience as a virtue but lord only knew when it came to my Father, no one could stop me from being where he was or knowing what he was doing. I was and will always be his blessed childe. I asked the question again, and the expression on my Mother’s face turned from that of sadness to pure anger. I had never seen her this way before, it was frightening, mind numbing, it was too much to handle. Without her even speaking I knew what she was about to say.

“Your Father is no longer with us Isidora,” her voice broke just above a whisper, as she grabbed my hand just long enough for me to pull away in pure shock. “You understand girl….he died for a good cause though…he died saving sinners in the Congo…yes he died a good man my Isidora” I could tell she wanted to go on, but what was left of my heart went cold as ice. Closing amber eyes, I knew the tears would come and I knew I had to go. I had to go back home. I had to get out of here.

“Momma…” but my words were caught in the back of my throat, struggling to form through the saliva that built up from the pain and tears. “I have to go,” quickly I peeled myself away from the bed and looked about in disarray. “I love you, I love Francois, Fabrice, Chayne,” I could barely get the words right, before I gasped an unnecessary breath and headed for the door. “I’m sorry I have to leave,” There was a panic that built up now, and all I wanted to do for once, was to go home back to Harper Rock.

I had barely made it outside the front door and I could hear my brother’s footsteps behind me, he would make an attempt to chase me but I didn’t care. I knew I could move much faster than he. Perhaps I should have said more in these regards, but what more was there to be said. My Father…my only Father whom I loved and adored all these years. He was dead and had died not knowing what happened to me. Who knew how long he had waited? Who knew what thoughts ran through his mind as he waited up for me late at night to either hear news that I was missing or dead? God would never forgive me for this. There were many things God had absolution from, but deceit was not one, and I had nothing but deceived my family. For months and maybe even for years had my issues with my love had not become so. It was me that had probably broke his spirits and caused him to make bad decisions. Oh god what have I done.

That night I made my way back to the little abandoned hut, emotionless, cold, dull, and maybe even a little resentful at how I behaved. But there was no going back, there was nothing that could redeem me of my wrong doings, and by all rights I should have ended my sins and misery right then when the sun arose; but the voice of my Father beckoned to me. He said just as he had told me as a little girl. Isaiah 57:1-2

THE RIGHTEOUS PERISH AND NO ONE PONDERS IT IN HIS HEART; DEVOUT MEN ARE TAKEN AWAY, AND NO ONE UNDERSTANDS THE RIGHTEOUS ARE TAKEN AWAY TO BE SPARED FROM EVIL. THOSE WHO WALK UPRIGHTLY ENTER INTO PEACE; THEY FIND REST AS THEY LIE IN DEATH.

Father please, please, please forgive me for I have sinned. I know the consequences of not obeying ones parents and practicing deceit and sinful pleasures, I only ask that someday, somehow, your tender loving mercy may shine on me once more, and abolish my wrong doings. My god what more can I say?