When we look back on life there are times when we feel that we have fallen too far and can never get back up, this is a story of what happens when you are pushed, and left.
‘Why are we still on the run father? I am tired,’ asked a young girl in a black dress next to a gigantic man in a brown rain coat with a knight’s sword at his side.
‘Don’t worry Bella, we will soon be safe from the fool.’ The man said this as they came to a cliff.
‘Father, why are we here? We cannot fly’ the girl spoke in a confused yet cold tone.
‘Bella, there is something I have kept a secret for to long and you must trust me, understand.’
His voice remained calm and fluid the whole time. She nodded, as she did so the man threw back his coat to reveal a pair of large bat like wings.
‘Father, what is going on’ Bella’s voice became scared and afraid.
‘Don’t be scared my daughter, I will tell you everything soon. But for now we must go, climb on my back.’ He bent down on one knee so Bella could get on his back, as he stood up they heard voices.
‘We must go now’ the man said, he spread out his wings and took off into the night.
As they left, a group of men with torches appeared from the forest, a man in a druid cloak and another in golden armor stepped out from the group.
The man in the armor threw his head back and screamed into the night
‘Rargor! I will find you and slay you with this blood ridden sword’
He raised his blade so that it glimmered in the quarter moon to show it was snaked with blood, at least it looked like blood, it had shines of sapphire and a scent of lavender.
The druid spoke.
‘I doubt it sire’
He spoke in a calm and subtle tone never taking his hood down and never appearing to have moved at all.
‘What are you saying Miresh’ The armored man said, seething with rage.
‘Vampires, they are immortal, are they not sire?’ The druid named Miresh, his voice hollow and cold, answered face never turning from the moon.
‘They are’ He pulled his sword to Mireshs throat.
‘But you can make me immortal’ Miresh merely laughed, but it was a hollow, empty laugh.
‘Did you forget sire, I cannot be killed by a mere sword’ He threw back his hood to reveal in the place of a head, a rotted yellow skull.
‘You are a sick individual do you know that Miresh, but, you are right’ Sighed the man in armor sheathing his sword and his rage along with it.
‘Thank you sire’ He gestured smiling. ‘Or should I call you…Margor?’
There was a glint in his eyehole.
‘No, you may not’ Said Margor.
‘I hate that name, I hate my bloodline, and I hate everything that I was born to be. I am no longer Margor Dracul,’
He paused in thought for a second; the air was so tense it was thicker than blood on a steel blade
‘From now on I am Vlad Draco! The impaling dragon, and king of Gadrak’
He turned and walked away his cape billowing in the wind like a wave going over itself.
