Beginnings
14
February 2003, Highgate, London.
Valentine’s Day. The Victorians loved this
day, they celebrated with handwritten poetry and gifts of flowers. I wonder how
many of them realised the tradition stemmed from celebrations for an early
Christian saint named Valentinus. Although apparently, the first association
with actual romance should be accredited to Geoffrey Chaucer in the Middle
Ages.
This Valentine’s night, I sit alone,
writing a journal, just as I have done for more than three hundred years. So
many things have changed over the centuries, including the actual journal
itself – and my writing implement. Perhaps one day I shall even use a computer,
although the thought makes me smile.
Do not waste sympathy on me, for I choose
to live alone. I am dangerous. Too dangerous, perhaps, to live with others. I
am a vampire – the Vampire Elder of London in fact. My responsibilities are
many and varied, such is the penance for eternal life.
I have, of course, taken many lovers, a
man is a man no matter how old he may be. But none have stayed. The human
lovers perished, the vampires either left, or I tired of them. Never have I
found the one true love for whom my non-beating heart yearns. Until ... perhaps
... now.
The first stirrings of the thirst alerted
me a little after the grandfather clock in the hall struck nine. I needed to
feed, and soon. My mind wandered to the beautiful red-haired dancer I had
noticed some weeks ago at the Adelphi Theatre. For some reason I found it
difficult to erase her memory. She moved like a dream, her grace and beauty so
bright – like a captive star. Her personalitymesmorised me, and I have been back
several times since to watch her performance. She never disappoints.
Throwing down my pen, I stood and walked
over to the window to look out at the peaceful walled garden. Moonlight picked
out the tangled mass of ivy clinging to the wall, and bathed everything in a
cold silvery glow. I needed to be out there. I could feel the compulsion to feed
growing with every passing minute.
****
Once again, I found myself standing just
over the road from the stage door of the Adelphi, and I watched for my quarry
from a dark doorway. Eventually the redhead come out, surrounded by her
friends. They called her ‘Ellie,’ and I stored the information away for future
use.
Suddenly to my surprise, she looked
across the road – directly at me – and smiled.
Could it be she had actually noticed
me? An old woman stood nearby, selling long-stemmed red roses, and on impulse,
I purchased them all – at an exorbitant price – and then strode swiftly across
the road to ‘Ellie.’
She stopped when I stepped in front of
her, blushing furiously, and looked up at me with startling eyes like twin
sapphires.
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” I said with a
smile. “You dance like an angel.”
She laughed a little self-consciously, and
accepted the flowers. “Thank you, please tell my choreographer that.”
Her friends had stopped a little way up
the road to wait for her, and were looking back at us with huge smiles on their
faces.
“I have to go,” she said.
“Of course.” I stepped back to allow her
to pass. “Until we meet again then.”
With her arms full of red roses, she
walked away from me, glancing back once to smile again, before disappearing
into the night.
