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The Tale and Trauma of Satine

Satine was born in the dark ages, a very long time ago in the township of “Blackwood” whereto her mother had lived and died.
Unbeknownst of her parents, her mother died during childbirth of Satine. Her mother had been bitten by a vampire while Satine was still in the wound.
Satine never knew of her mother and father, and was abandoned as a child, for the people feared her or what she may become. She was sent away to live in the Carpathian Mountains far away.
There she became skilled amongst her powers, training in martial arts, strategic war tactics, and healing.

A thing of abandonment seeped fear in her heart.
Presumably, her vampiric father watched over her, for Satine had dreams and visions that would abound her. Did he want her dead? Was he in attendance to help her, psychologically?
During her training, she met a Prince by the name of Vladimir. He would teach her many things, among philosophy and majik. Vlad seemed notable of the people, high in court. Yet feared among many.

This brought desire in Satine to return to her home village, learn of its people, of her mother’s grave (hidden behind the church), and seek out her father.

Part human, part vampire, part light, part dark, Satine may prove to be the savior of her village. Upon her arrival, she found the people in disarray. Panic reigned here. Blood towered the streets. Trusty no one was.
Satine seeks love, part of her human condition. She may be vilified by its admission.
She grows week with apathy, bloodlust, and a demoniac affiliation.
She sleeps beyond the church in her mother’s shallow grave.

“Remember, sometimes you need the dark to battle the dark. So do not discourage those who suffer from its apathy.” – Satine

©Delia Ross. 2011

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My Son Part 1: The Promise

WARNING: The following story contains explicit gore, imagery, & death. It is intended for an older audience. Though it is not age restricted, caution should be taken when reading, as it may cause triggers in some due to the sensitive context and subject matter. Proceed with caution.

My Son Part 1: The Promise

“The bloody note,
that his lost wife wrote,
He found under his pillow,
when in the afternoon he awoke.
His heart grew weak as he read her final thoughts,
her last words about the son she lost,
and the promise that she broke.
But it sends him right,
back to that lovely night,
when they felt each other’s love,
and gave each other light.
But he tears up when he remembers the deed,
the love he felt then, seems now like greed.
Her promise he would recite.
‘Our life together, darling, has just begun,
And I would be honored if you had our son.’
He was her man and she was his lady,
and so he asked her to have his baby.
Neither hesitated.
She lay on the floor,
as the blood poured,
she felt the one inside,
would live no more.
And she was crying for help and she called everyone.
Thinking that someone could save her son.”
The promise lay on the ground torn.
The shame she had,
when he took her hand,
in the hospital room,
but he made no demand.

And when he first entered, she wouldn’t even lock,
her eyes with his, she just turned toward the wall.
Thinking the promise, she would damn.
But she looked in time,
with her tearing eyes,
she wanted to see him,
the one she was denied.
And when she did, her world was shattered,
And put in submission.
It was black and bloody and in the fetal position.
Her promise was a lie.
‘Our life, my darling, had just begun.
I only need my girl and I don’t need a son.’
He said this, but he could not hide his pain,
He knew that their love would never be the same.
Neither reiterated.
And alas one evening,
while he was dreaming,
she’d lay in the tub,
her wrists slashed and bleeding.
And when he saw the result his heart receded,
it tore apart when her wrists stopped bleeding.
The promise she was relieving.
And after the police went,
And after the trial,
After the search of his house,
And long after denial,
That’s when he found her letter of regret.
Buried under his pillow so he couldn’t neglect.
But then arose a devious smile.
‘Our life, my darling, has just begun.
All I have to do is save some of your blood.’
He knew a man who could restore her life
half of this woman would still be half of his wife.
Shockingly, he never hesitated.”

© Delia Ross. 2010

Stay tuned for Part 2: The Note Beneath His Pillow & Part 3: Half of Her Life