Auctioned Off --Vampire's Slave-- {04} Cash, Credit, Check, or Debit?
Chapter 9 : Auctioned Off --Vampire's Slave-- {09} If Only
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I licked my dry lips as I leafed through the first three blank pages. I'm fairly certain my heart could be heard all they way in Yolanda, where-ever that may be seriously having regrets opening the journal now, fearing I'd die of a heart attack if I came across another blank page.
You know how they say, "Get out before you get too far?" What's the point when you're just as far in as you'll ever be out? I mean you'll might as well find out what happens next, that's good logic, right? Finally my numb fingers turned the page, my eyes widened into twin moons as I read just the first line.
"March 5th, 1854,"
1854? That's obviously impossible. I reread the line precisely 99 times before allowing to begin to imagine that maybe what it said.
"The Vampire in the Black Armani Suit,"
"There you go Mr. Vampire,"
"After A 167 years, I Do Believe I Have A Reason To Be."
I shook my head, shaking out the queer pile of images that flooded my mind. Then I shook it again, just for good measure. Certainly the times fit, hey, even the fact he was a vampire it would explain the fact he looks twenty something. Minus the small little fact I have a hard time believing in mythological beings, call me estranged, but I like scientific facts.
The more likely explanation that Nathaniel had a distant relative that he was named after, and this is his journal. The other things? What other things? The flashbacks? What flashbacks? Did you hit your head?
I suppose there is really no point in reading the journal. I sighed, rather disappointed closing it and putting it on top of the desk. If only it had been Neurotic Nathaniel's and not some pointless relatives.
However my eyes lingered on it. Still, it could prove to ban interesting read, maybe... My hands hovered over the book. Maybe what? Nathaniel's a Vampire from the Civil War Era? I turned away from the useless book and moving to the opposite end of the room where a few hundred dozen tomes awaited me to place them in their rightful spots.
I glared at them for a long stretched moment as if it would make them sort themselves in their proper positions before picking up the rest of the W's, begrudgingly stomping down the walls of literature and putting them away in their respective places.
Process repeated for X to Z.
Add in a few graceful falls and a bookshelf falling down.
I huffed a sigh as I sat down in the chair, swiping my unruly hair away from face. It gave me immense pleasure to know that I was sitting in Nathaniel's chair, to know that I, a scummy servant in his view was sitting upon his throne. I could help the smile that crept across my face as I did so.
I looked around at the room, a masterpiece of cleanliness, or rather a master of cleanliness compared to how I usually clean. I dusted, put away all the book and hey! I even swept! That's going above the call of duty right there, I deserve to pat myself on the back. But I won't, only teacher's pets do that, or in this case, Nathaniel's pets.
Unquestionably, I gagged at the mere thought. I mean how could even want that? Sure, it'd probably make some's life a lot easier. That's so over-rated, who needs simplicity when they can have satisfaction? I suppose not all think as I do, what a pity, the world be be a lot more interesting, maybe not better, actually it's be a lot worse, but much much more interesting.
I spun around in the chair, looking around slowly becoming bored out of my mind as the seconds ticked by.
Oh for the love of Debra Bush! Where in Allah's name is that fool boy of a human specimen with my food! It doesn't take this long to eat lunch! It's gotta be near dinner by now or at or at the very least snack time! I'm losing my sense of everything the longer I'm with out food! As if to agree, my stomach growled in compliance or to threaten to murder me without if I go another second without substance.
A second sneaked by.
Ah! My Heart! I grabbed my chest, wheezing. I can't feel my left side! It's a combination of a heart-attack and a stroke, a, um, heart-stroke!
"Oh, I'm- I'm dying!" If there is any Lord, send me food now and spare my life! My stomach has simulated a self-destruct response, spare me! PLEASE!
I told you I liked drama.
Never underestimate my sincerity.
I slowly pulled myself up, not out of anger or disappoint that my clever scheme to fool some higher being had failed but merely out pain exhaustion. My little skit had caused a fresh crisp wave of pain to radiate of my ribs, or perhaps the lifting of all those books has finally got to me. Whichever, I blame Nathaniel. It's his fault in all his stupid stupidity.
I wish a four, no six, no eight no ten, no SIXTEEN wheeler would run him over. Oh my, did I just admit that I'd want him dead?
I did! I want him to die! I revealed in my epiphany, in my life I have never wanted anyone dead, save for Bush.
Both of them, but hey, who doesn't? I mean that's practically given to anyone, besides his supporters. Ya know, the people who who shoot their best friends when hunting. I mean if your friends with the president, you're not going to jail!
Name one corrupted government that's gone to jail, just give me one, anyone! Hummor me, appease me!
My point exactly.
"Uh, sorry I-"
"Forgot? Surprise, surprise." My legs were on top of the desk, crossed as I surveyed his disheveled appearance. "With how did you forget about me with?" I asked smirking. His face turned into a bright red tomato. If only I had a camera, these are the Kodak moments!
"Uh- um, you- I. No!" He snorted at the end for an added effect of his angelic innocence. Man when I am good-- I am amazing.
"Don't worry, your secret is safe with me." I said winking, unable to wipe the smile off my face. He had food in his left hand. I couldn't really be sure what it was, it looked like some odd combination of cat liver and cow spleen all mixed together in a lovely broth of turkey vomit. But honestly, I didn't care. The smell darted it's way up my nose wafting in the air like a tease. "But only if you agree NOT to tell me what is in that food." He smiled sheepishly.
"Deal." He said nervously handing me the bowl and it's mystery contents. Hey, I suffered through School food for how long? Twelve years out of eighteen? I think I can handle this gruel. Think being the keyword. "Good news is that you don't have to do kitchen duty tonight because I forgot about getting you, but you'll have to do it tomorrow." He paused a minute sighing deeply. "Better news for you, because of my insolence, I have to take care of the Ballroom, you get to go to bed!" He said it enthusiastically as possible, which made it sound as if he had a stick shoved up his, well, be creative and finish that one yourself.
"I have to do it instead," He muttered.
I restrained my laugh. Serves him right! Finally, justice!
"Was it worth it?" I mused allowed, wondering if he was serious about his little friend he had rendez-vous instead bringing me food, leaving me to suffer from a heart-stroke. I took a cautious sip of the wonder soup.
"Most definitely," He began grinning as I swished the liquid with chunky bites of something in my mouth. Is it odd that I found it surprisingly-- "She's the girl that you saw-" Sadly I couldn't figure out who she was as bile scorched a path up my throat, revolting against the stuff I attempted to put in my stomach. We'll leave it that it didn't came back-- I won't get into the putrid details or the burning sensation that conquered my throat do to or the horrid aftertaste of death in my mouth.
"It takes a while to get used to. I've never had it cold like you, that's gutsy." Lovatt complimented as I continued t gag.
"Holy Lucifer! What in the world was that?"
"We made a deal," He said crossing his long arms and frowning. "I can't tell me and besides that, you don't want to know, trust me." For some reason this dolt found something amusing, in fact hilarious for he broke into side splitting laughter, nearly crying.
"I'm done, let's hit the road lover boy." I taunted in anger, shoving past him and out the door. It was his turn to scramble. Don't listen to what they tell you, vengeance is far better than the sweetest tart.
I sat on my, er, bed resting my weary bones as my eyes zipped across as I drank in the array of idioms before my face. I had choose to skip dinner, not willingly to suffer through what I had experienced in the study-library. Instead I was flicking through the pages of the very book I had made a mockery. When I had shoved Lovatt, I swiped Nathaniel Waverley's journal clear of the table, for some reason finding the need to be secretive as I proceeded. I almost felt like a criminal.
How Exhilarating.
I couldn't leave the room without the pointless journal for some reason, I just couldn't. I knew it was insignificant, but... at the same time I felt that it meant everything. In lieu of that incoherent explanation, I'll simply blame Pandora. Darn her and her curiosity, passing it down all the way to me! If only she never opened that dumb box! I'm pretty sure that Nathaniel wouldn't' even exist!
But what it all comes down to is curiosity. My curiosity, my thirst to know everything about anything, even some dead bloke of no consequence to me.
Curiosity always kills the cat. It's a good thing that I am not cat.
His father threw himself into the labor, through Nathaniel's he was a subject of reverance, as any thirteen year old boy sees their father eventhough I was fairly certain I hated him, for one reason alone, here's the direct passage why I feel as I do;
"Today my poor father came home a mess, just as he does every day since mother died. I miss her very much, but father will not even speak of her, he burned all the photographs of her, but I hide one. I wanted to always remember what she looked like. I told him as much when he found the photograph. He struck me for it.. He said mother was a traitor and cares nothing for us. He then said I was the reason she died, that I wore her out, constantly whinning, not acting as a proper boy would. I drove her to the sickness which consumed her.
I fear that he is correct. I never gave her a moment of peace and quite, not between the pranks or my crying. I did drive her to her funeral. I must cause father so much pain."
How can anyone not hate that man who would make his own flesh and blood believe that he killed his own mother! It's even worse because the dolt believed that he was the one who made her sick simply for acting like any other annoying brat of his age. With the natural expection of me, I was an angel all through my life---
Excuse me, I think I am choking on something. Oh, I know what it is, B.S.
What? Butterscotch, duh! That's stuff gets stuck on your throat so eaisly!
His fifteen year was really boring, his father sent him to England to attend a boarding school. He did study -- when he wasn't writing about all the 'Lovely ladies of such great beauty and natural grace at the finishing school across the way.' I bet he was one of the freaky kids in the back of the room, the ones whose eyes you can feel boring into your neck. The next two years of his life are unknown, he didn't write anything. But I'm supposing that he finished his schooling in England at whichever boarding, packed his suitcases and went back home for the journal recommences when he is seventeen at his father's Estate.
April 26th, 1858,
If only I had stayed in London, I would have never had to subject myself to this torture! Father is insisting that I continue my schooling, He wishes for me to be a Doctor or a Lawyer, and no matter how he hates them, he admitted he'd be most proud if I was to become a Politican. I have no will to undertake the study of the human body or slice one up for my peers to see so I have settled into Law. Wether I be a Lawyer or a Politican is still in debate, however, I could very well be both.
Perhaps if I become Lawyer for long enough I can work my way up and one day become president of these crumbling states! What a great mockery this all is, these United States! If only we could see how the world laughs at us, I do not think we would bicker as we do, as though we are children fighting over candy. I believe if we merely opened our eyes wide enough, we'd see eachothers points and we'd end this useless quarreling and join under the true banner of these United States and prove the world a fool.
But alas, these are merely a poets dreams and singers chant, not at all how the world, or the human mind, revolves.
Nathaniel Waverly
That was by far the most convient time for the journal to end, I am mean honestly, that luck was good luck. I think this journal is magic. Never before has anything like this happened to me before. Just as I gazed enviously at his glorious signature, the sun disappered entirely beneath the horizon, leaving nothing but the moon and stars behind, not enough by any means to read by through the dismal whole of a window in my closet.
I tucked the leather journal underneath the mattress of the cot simply because under the pillow is where everyone hides everything, either that or thier underwear compartment in their dresser, that's the first place a thief look, so I suppose someone whose looking for to redeem the journal, would look thier first too. At least this way, I'll have to make Nathaniel flip the bed upside down or crawl on the ground if he wants it.
Both sights would be worth seeing.
That's when the door slammed open.
Told you luck did me a favor.
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