It took several weeks after the incident with the bird before I woke up sick, trembling and distraught. I cried for three days straight. I couldn’t eat or speak or get out of bed. My parents thought that I was having a recurrence of my childhood illness.
But it was guilt.
Delayed but heartfelt.
Real.
It seems that too was in the signs.
With most of the crew dead, and those who are left very much aware of it, I had no choice but to come up from the darkness. The fear of these men is so strong, its invading all of my senses. The smell and taste and touch of it don’t thrill me like they used to.
They don’t look back. They don’t even speak to each other. My presence hangs over them. It alone cannot kill them, but it certainly kills their spirits.
I honestly don’t understand such fear on their part when I am huddled in the only corner that is safe for me, and the sun comes through the window close enough that it makes a glare on my screen. Between the two of them, and with an unexpected action, it’s quite possible that they could get the better of me. I owe my complete safety to the fact that they are both too frightened to find out.
The place where I grew up is still called Fryslân, but when I was born there, it actually still was. The Frisii were compared by some to the Spartans, all war and no culture. But I saw no war… only survival and slow assimilation into the culture of others.
There was nothing to do, except wait for something to happen. As a teenager, a bird crashed, one day, into my closed shutters. I went out and picked it up. It was a baby. It was terrified. I cradled it in my hands and its shivering slowly subsided. Then, I snapped its neck. To put it out of its misery, I told myself. But, really, I just wanted to see how death felt.
There were signs.
It’s done. He came to collect our dues and was paid in full… just not in the currency he was expecting. It was nothing less than he deserved. And now I am sated. The women have grown closer too. They are no longer spread sporadically around the perimeter, but huddled all together as far from me as possible.
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Except for the girl. She hasn’t abandoned her post beside me, but now it may be because she is too afraid too.
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And they will see it again. Eventually, one of the other crewmen is bound to come and check on the one who is missing, and then another and another. I’ll kill them all. Again and again, they will be reminded of exactly what I am.
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I am evil. Never forget it.
I have killed willfully and I have killed by accident. There were times I was only looking to feed, but, in my excitement, I would yank a man too hard and snap his neck. I was unaware of my power, unaccustomed to the strength.
I still haven’t grown used to it, not completely. You would think by now I would be. But, once upon a time, I was frail, powerless, breakable, and I still remember very well how that feels.
Every sound from above engages my instincts. I feel my body tense as if the fight has already started. It must be obvious, because she glances over at me every time.
And every time I ignore her. Her presence is a danger to her, and she doesn’t even realize it. If she is here, then there is no reason for me to be hungry, which makes her, also, a danger to me.
But I am a danger to him as well. I thought he would have come by now. I need for him to come. And when he comes, I will be so ready for him.
We were never starving, but I was always hungry just the same. Not because there wasn’t enough. There was enough. But I was very aware of what I couldn’t have.
There were other people in town who had meals of meat and wine and fresh vegetables that took special care and fertilizer and feed to grow. We did without. So much did I yearn for these things that I couldn’t have, what I did have lost all ability to satisfy my appetite.
It’s hot.
I am shaking.
In my haste to be on my way, I left behind many things, but of all the things for me to forget…
Each turn of my head brings in the scent of them. Their sweat hangs on the air like perfume and I am seriously jonesing.
The crew has thrown down scraps that no one has eaten, so we are all hungry, but little do they know how much easier they have it.
Their food is unappealing.
When I was a young child, I became very ill. Left to the care of Christian doctors who refused to dabble in ungodly Pagan medicines, I would have died. But my grandfather was still Frisian enough to disagree with my parents new world leanings. An old friend of his from a disbanded tribe was still in practice with old cures and ways of healing. My grandfather slipped me one of his tonics, a rough and heavy-tasting liquid with roots and owls blood that I can recall the flavor of to this day. Two days later, it was as if I had never fallen ill at all.
But I couldn’t sleep for months after. Not at night. I would lie in bed, at my parents’ order, but I would be awake all night, listening to the house creaking and the insects outside in the darkness. The next day, I would crash in the afternoon and sleep for hours. My parents did all that they could to try to keep me awake during the day, but it didn’t lead to my getting any more rest at night. I would lie down, but sleep just wouldn’t come.
Then, it gradually faded. I started going to sleep earlier and earlier in the day until the earlier became the night before, and I was eventually back to my normal sleep pattern. My parents blamed it on the illness. It took me many many years, more than most people get to live, to realize what had happened to me. Blood changed me into what I am now. Blood changed me then. Owl’s blood. In the time it took to work its way out of my system, I wasn’t just suffering from insomnia…
I was nocturnal.
I don’t know why, but, a few hours ago when she got up to go to the bathroom, the girl didn’t return to her corner. She walked over here and took a seat close enough that we could speak to each other if either of us so chose, but far enough to not be imposing. When she laid down, her head, resting on her wadded up jacket, was less than a meter away. She closed her eyes and went to sleep for real for the first time in nearly four days.
She hasn’t moved since.