Perish

By Desiree Galavez

Perish Falconridge is a vampire. But what vampire, is possessed or genetically created by mortals? Do you know a vampire who has a personal connection to God?
When Perish comes face to face with his freedom, he begins to tap into his abilities, stronger and bolder then ever. In his discoveries he can’t seem to grasp why he’s having strange visions and hearing Luken, his possession. Without any answers to these new happenings he leaves his new home.
While away he begins to discover his differences are greater than first thought. Luken takes him captive in his own body causing Perish to commit a crime against the laws of the Society. Forcing him to go back to Castle Liberte to face a responsibility he despises and at the same time regrets.
What will become of him when he realizes he’s connected, life or death, to a mortal woman? And why has this happened? Join Perish as he discovers who and what he really is. Why Perish, exists at all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Desiree Galavez
• Release date: Apr 30, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458152367

Desiree Galavez

Desiree Galavez, born April 22, 1979. Growing up in a military family, she was exposed to all sorts of life and cultures. As a child she was diagnosed with encephalitis and wasn't expected to live. It was a miracle she did.This became an inspiration for her drawings and story ideas.

Book preview

Perish

By Desiree Galavez

Copyright 2011 Desiree Galavez

Smashwords Edition

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1-This Is Me

Chapter 2- Could You Believe?

Chapter 3- Everything Has a Beginning

Chapter 4- It’s Blurry

Chapter 5- Escape

Chapter 6- Who Is Rose?

Chapter 7- Possession of Perish

Chapter 8- God Like

Chapter 9- Return to Freedom

Chapter 10- Mortals Are Fragile

Chapter 11-Poppy’s One Of Us

Chapter 12- Change Is Good…Sometimes

Chapter 13- Benjamin’s Plan

Chapter14- Kyoto is Oracle

Chapter 15- What Just Happened?

Chapter 16- Memory

Chapter 17- I Love You

Chapter 18- Curiosity

Chapter 19- Not the Whole Story

Chapter 20- Suddenly Aware

Chapter 21- History Repeating

Chapter 22- Pieces Come Together

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Chapter 1-This is me

R,

I’ve always believed there was a God. But believing in myself has always been the hardest task.

What I am is not a figment of someone’s imagination, I am very real. I crave the blood, I have the fangs. I have the abilities that men dream of.

Not to mention that being what I am has boosted me to the top of the food chain. The only difference in my creation is I was brought into this world by the hands of intellectual mortals. An abomination, of a creature. Known and feared, ages before my birth. They experimented with the blood lines of the Vampire, bringing together the strands of DNA and blood types. They succeeded in harnessing the unknown lineage of the blood thirsty beings, hoping to control the unknown depths of the vampires untold secrets.

My first cells of lifeless tissue forming in a petri dish. Eventually, like Frankenstein’s monster, my body formed its stone encasement to the adolescent age of seven. My pale, naked, alabaster body was dead and lifeless, as it lay on a steel gurney, awaiting the next step of the process. Arms and legs extended. Every toe stuck with small needles pumping the cocktail of an unknown substance through my body. Fingers, inner arms and spinal cord. There wasn’t a place that did not have a needle or tube pushing the memories of the past into mine. Images folding upon images, creating an abstract vision of distorted faces I didn’t recognize. Memories of those I never knew, and perhaps will never know. But something has stayed with me since my creation. Visions. Or maybe they were dreams. Visions, when I wasn’t always this thing, not always a vampire. In a place of utmost happiness. Where there was light and beautiful beings, and God.

Your going to ask me how I knew it was God.

All I have to say to that is, its one of those questions you already know the answer too he just…was. I don’t have them all the time though, the visions, they change often. So whether it has always been there or it was the side effects of the transfusions. I can‘t answer that. But I won’t forget to tell you that besides the beautiful visions, I have other puzzlements. Visions of a day when our kind was born. When the first sip of blood was taken from a mortal, and when the rift between the heavens and the earth was sprung. And when the strain between the breeds and the mortals began. Again, I’m not for sure if it’s a real memory or the side effects, but it’s a memory still, and it has always been.

So, I have categorized these as dark thoughts. Reoccurring at odd times of the day, sometimes when I rest. And never telling anyone.

Anyhow. When I was seven I was awakened. Only I wasn’t free I was confined to a box with a window and a steel door. Along with me, in this tiny room. There was a computer complete with internet, so I wouldn’t be completely stupid to the world. And a small book shelf, overflowing with books, magazines and newspaper clippings.

Through the years I‘d become a bit of a hoarder, collecting and cutting pictures from books that I‘d found interesting.

My guardians, Mr. and Mrs. Harron. Made it clear to me that I would never leave this place. And wasted no time telling me what I was, explaining how I came to be. It didn’t truly mean anything to me until I tasted blood for the first time, then knew they were right after all.

Dr. Elizabeth Harron provided me with an education. Though she wasn’t exactly happy with allowing me to read the papers. Or having access to the internet. She thought they would influence me to judge mortals. The papers weren’t what I judged. It was the situation mortals put me in. From the very beginning I had no choice. I didn’t choose to be a vampire and I didn’t choose to be their science experiment. If I had the choice I would be neither mortal nor vampire.

The Mortals that raised me weren’t exactly the nurturing type and I didn’t know of any other vampires, or other mortals, to convince me other wise. Not knowing first hand what the world held either, I was almost content in my box. Almost.

My opinion of Mortals. They are cruel beings, inferior mindless creatures. Delicate bodies that could easily be broken. Destroying themselves daily and for what? Half of them for drugs, a straying lover, money, madness or a moment of insanity. The other half, confused as to what they are. Psychic or manic depressant? Gifted or just plain strange? Accepted or Unaccepted? They are pointless beings.

At the age of seven, I was glad I was, a vampire. But all that I’d read was nothing compared to what I wish I could experience on my own. The world outside. To really see for myself. But I could not, I was a prisoner of human curiosity.

How wonderful of man. So greedy for knowledge, without understanding the consequences. As for what I believe? I did…believe and looked to the bible for answers to my many questions. Even I have to laugh at myself. Fascinating isn’t it?

How could I even look at the Bible, or even say His name? The truth is dearest, I am fascinated with how God is perceived. And one thing that I never understood, was why God gave mortals free will. Did he expect them to create beings like myself? He must have. He created everything else. And for what purpose? Where were those of my kind? In my research, my visions and thoughts helped me to understand what I should look for on the internet.

What I found was the mortal perspective on what they thought happened to the others. Supposedly my kind went their separate ways, blending in with the mortals. The explanation on the site, was a long and detailed one, telling of Cain and Lilith. The first knights, childers and what has become of them since then. Leading me to realize how much and how long mortals wanted to live forever, even if it meant killing others of their kind to keep up their charade.

If God did not tame the beast, how could mere man? How did man think he would? Humans were given so many of their choices, but never made the right ones. Yet, the Bible read that God loves them no matter what. So much so, he sacrificed his son. Who he sent to die for these mortals to make those choices. And still, they do not make the right ones. What would God say about me?

Indeed, I related to his son. Even after death, he lives in the hearts and souls of billions. In many ways we are both created miraculously and in many ways we are both destine to live on. Though, I am a complete abomination in Gods eyes.

Living day to day, a constant repetition, like a lab rat through the maze. Everyday I was told that I was the ultimate of ultimate vampires, the first of my breed, yet I was treated like the plague reincarnate. Locked behind the door and shatter proof glass, that protected them from me.

Elizabeth, the lead scientist in the genetics department and her husband, Director of the lab was Dr. Henry Harron. Later on, I came to find that they didn’t operate with certain ethics in mind. And neither did they have the funds. ‘Friends’ in high places and private sponsors contributed to their less then typical experiments. Their specialty. Reanimation, stem cells and embryonic stem cells to replicate specific physical traits.

Dr. Harron aided in the research, to genetically pass down memories through DNA. In the past, he hadn’t succeeded on his own, until now.

This is where things get confusing.

Where I started to question, where the visions really came from and what they were supposed to mean. Trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

My birth, as I mentioned, if you can call it that. Wasn’t the natural way to be born, even for something like me. Not from normal human birth, formed by a woman and a man, even born by being bitten by another of my kind, or even borne into it. At least that’s what I thought. I was grown and cultivated. Different pathogens and cells, blood, complete with memories, flashes of places, faces and monsters that I didn’t know existed. These were what the visions also consisted of. These were what occupied my mind. I had no light to my darkness, no comfort for my undying thirst. Perish Falconridge, a blood thirsty Frankenstein monster, that grew rapidly to what appeared to be the age of twenty-five years, within the span of three months. Since the taking of blood, everything awakened, including my growth and my sense of maturity and the thirst for blood.

Even with the kindness that Elizabeth bestowed to me, I was still kept isolated. But on these days, I would read or write my thoughts. Sketching the visions in a journal, so I could try and make sense of them. Researched about the outside, all the while living a typically mundane life for a creature like me. And slowly my abilities began to reveal themselves.

Of course it started with the thirst. Then I was able to hear the slightest of noises. And eventually I discovered my sight was just as good in the dark, if not better. Also my strength increased.

On the day I turned twenty five, I discovered I heard voices. Mainly those of my guardians, in my head. I researched it and found it was called telepathy. But I possessed one side of it. I could only hear their thoughts. My body advanced from seven to twenty five, gratefully coupled with the knowledge of things I never dreamed I could have. And the visions became more and more detailed. But still they didn’t make sense.

This all happened gradually. Gradual was good. It helped me keep my abilities from Dr. Harron. They were getting more prominant and only I knew. Although there were days when Dr. Harron and I spent countless hours, of all things, watching each other. Always with cold and contemplating stares. He was waiting for those precious moments when I would give him a glimpse to what I was and what I could do. I was growing tired of his games. I knew what I was, and he knew what I was. He didn’t want clues, he wanted substantial proof, hard evidence. His thoughts were always wide open windows to a shallow mind. What he wanted most was my immortality, a chance to live forever. And Dr.Harron wasn’t the only one waiting. There were others, hovering like vultures over a carcass. According to his thoughts, he was being ordered to do so. Ordered to observe, report all the things that I did. He was someone else’s puppet and sadly, so was Elizabeth. But as to who was pulling their strings, it wasn’t clear. And I never let him in, I never exposed anything that would give him the satisfaction. Prick!

At the end of my twenty-fifth year, I experience something strange within myself. I was growing more and more frustrated and angry. That night when I given my daily eight ounces of blood, it didn’t taste as it always did. The flavor is usually sweet and relieving. But that night it was a stale and cold not enticing to me at all. I couldn’t finish it, my throat burned when it went down, making me ill. When I finally swallowed it, the burning subsided only to blend into an electric shock that almost knocked me to my knees. It was like a blast of air shooting right through me, bouncing off my insides. At first it stunned me, merely shrugging it off, considering I hadn’t fed and was still hungry. But when the shock passed through me again, I lost all senses. Becoming paralyzed and blacking out.

Time was never something I kept up with. There was never a need for it. But as I lay motionless on the floor, I heard the tick tock of a clock. It was hypnotic and soothing, and I allowed myself to listen. Counting the ticks and patterns that spoke to me in a metronomic voice. When I did wake up, I was confused and disoriented. My body felt pain, sharp pain. Never had I experienced this sensation before, it was confusing and new. Like someone was inside and they were pummeling me with small stones. I felt around my body and looked for any sign of cuts or bruising. But there were none.

I’m losing it. I thought to myself.

There was no explanation for what happened, and thank God that the Doctor hadn’t been around.

After that night my abilities were much sharper. I could hear further than the next room, my sight was ten times what they were last month and I could hear the blood flowing through my guardians veins. But the visions remained and never changed. Occasionally I would come across a quick blur of black and a flash of fang and-blood. Nothing I could connect. When I lay down and closed my eyes, taking myself to the darkest place in my mind. I would try to erase the undigested thoughts and visions. Never truly sleeping, but lightly resting, replenishing my energies, especially being deprived of fluids.

Doctor Harron began to reduce the supply of blood to three times a day, every two days. It had to be adequate enough to sustain me for the next two days. He dragged the worst from me. When I would feel weak and agitated, I lashed out. Trying not to get angry with Elizabeth, mainly at Doctor Harron. I never liked him. He’s was trying to antagonize me, hoping that I would one day get so tired, agitated and thirsty, that I would show him some of my abilities. Never!

One evening the doctor came into the observation room, drunk and stupid. Yelling through the glass about my kind, a ‘Vampire Frankenstein’, he called me. Saying that I was created to be the answer to everything wrong with mortals, to prove that fear and immortality did exist and mortals needed a healthy dose of reality. During those times, when he drank. His mind was a dizzying swirl of colors, mingling within themselves and creating muddied thoughts.

They say a drunk mans words, are the spoken truth. Was he telling the truth? I couldn’t tell when he was intoxicated and I couldn’t tell when he wasn’t, he never thought of it. He mainly thought of what he would gain when he proved I was a successful experiment. And more often then not, his thoughts consisted of darker images, that I could only explain as a darkness that had no face. It nagged at me when his thoughts were present. Strangely, it gave me a migraine, and I avoided the doctors thoughts, if I could. But I hadn’t accomplished that yet.

Unfortunately, R, the small attempts at finding others was sufficient enough to gratify my curiosity. ‘Unfortunate’, because I hoped for more. But from what I did find was purely here say. Vampires did indeed exist. And lived many eternities, through folklore, that is. So I read. As for actual proof, R, that was hard to come by. Something of an alien, in many ways. Rarely seen and experienced, but never really proven. Of course, there were plenty of faux vampires, I watched them on the computer. Claiming to be one, drinking blood, living in darkness, coffins, fangs, the whole song and dance. But I knew better, they didn’t describe anything that was proven, the way I knew them to be. So I dismissed them, disappointed. And gave up the search, thinking I couldn’t possibly find others like myself in this box. It was a failed attempt.

Good night,

P.F.

To R,

I think that this is an odd way to deal with what I am but if you permit me I will continue writing this second letter. Forgive me for rambling.

In a sick way. Macabre actually, when I thumbed through the newspaper, I searched the missing persons articles. Looking for unsolved mysteries, murders, abductions and runaways. These were what attracted me. They were never found anyway, ever.

There was never a clue to what happened to them, and there was never an answer. Just questions and a grieving family left behind, to beg for someone to tell them where they might be, and come forward with any leads. The victims usually had a horrible past. Young with no guidance and without hope. Someone looking for answers, someone vulnerable. Perhaps meeting someone who seemed too good to be true and was deceived in the end, ‘Step into my parlor. Said the Spider to the Fly’.

These cases were easier pushed aside as the mad ravings of a psychopath. But then again. Mortals no longer seemed to fear anything anymore. Being stalked and hunted, they’d gladly ask to be bitten, and beg for the change.

And for these reasons, I began to only see them as nothing more then sustenance. I’m sorry R, but this was how I see your kind. They were disappointing creatures full of nothing but themselves, and forgetful. Oblivious to what was really going on around them. It made me sick.

I wasn’t real to them. Yet if I was out in the world, walking amongst them. I would be their demise. The top of the food chain. Why do they even bother praying?

But I wasn’t free, I wasn’t even sure if their really were others like myself. I was held captive by the mortals that made me. I didn’t have a clue as to how to escape, my abilities were still sketchy and there were things happening to me that, from the beginning, had me spooked.

But amongst these stories of despair. The obituaries, the families, the dead left behind. There was a story that caught my attention.

This, R, is how and when, I first laid eyes on you. When I met you. It was about your father. A man who died of diabetes, leaving his little family a house in the Excelsior District.

The usual sad story. Two daughters a widow and a grand daughter left behind. What made me notice her? The one who looked lonely, you wonder? It wasn’t anything that stuck out. I was merely drawn by the silence that came when I starred at the picture of the four of them. In particular the eldest. The daughters, the wife and the dead smiling, happy. Frozen in a strained effort to look like the garden variety family. Her expression was indifferent. I didn’t know what she was thinking, I couldn’t tell by just looking at her photo. But it was as if she was waiting for something, that she didn’t know she was waiting for. I couldn’t help but stare at her, noticing the silence of the voices, the outside noises and a low ringing that were slightly audible. I recognized the all to familiar burning in my throat, the electric sensation and chill spread through me once again.

As I tensed up, I crumpled the paper with the girls picture. A reaction to the pain. Her face was stamped into my thoughts hanging like a bright beacon. Focusing on something other than the pain. Slowly, it began to subside. When I became more relaxed, the crumpled paper, I held in my tight fist, was almost destroyed. Loosening my grip, the paper fell to the floor. The pain still lingered all through my body and as I took deep breaths and felt it subsiding like the tide going out. Gently I ripped the photo out of the newspaper and continued to read the rest of the words, until I came to their names. Ivy, Rose and their mother, Gloria. The Moira’s. I shoved it in the back pocket of my jeans.

The dryness of my throat ignited a fire. It was already day three of neglected feeding and it was getting to me. Weariness began to set in as I slid to the floor. Dropping my head on my pulled up knees. This was how I coped, when the unquenchable appetite for blood would try and overcome me. One day overdue.

Elizabeth tapped on the slot. Just in time. She brought me what I was craving. And not a minute too soon. I acknowledged her, flicking my hand at her. I refused any eye contact. She slid the Styrofoam cup through a small slot.

It was my relief. But not without the side affects. The blood that was collected, came from a penitentiary which had an abundance of donors. Their memories, attaching themselves to the blood. Horrendous thoughts, and actions of these criminals. Although I needed it. This type wasn’t the best quality. I’d found ways to block their old memories from poisoning mine. And it never was delivered fresh or warm, always cold. Elizabeth nudged the cup forward, while her scent crept behind it. Soap and a flowery smell. My throat felt like it was closing up. I thanked Elizabeth and got up to take what I was waiting three days for. Roughly, I slammed the cup on the table, sending the contents sloshing around inside.

Even though I was thirsty, I had to try and prepare my body and mind for what was going to occur when I drank it. Already tired, thirsty and inflicted with the unexplainable blackouts, that occurred in my ‘perfect’ exisistance. Waiting a little longer, wasn’t going to hurt any less. I sat back down, resting against the bed, and laying my head back on my knees.

I thought of the black place I usually took myself. Clearing my mind, waiting for the shades of grey behind my lids, to turn black. Trying to focus on the face of the girl. I didn’t know her, and would never know her. Understanding, it was only her name that would be in my thoughts. Grateful, that I didn’t know her, begrudgingly thankful, for the small effect she had on me. Hoping the black and the grey would arrive soon, with some sort of preparedness. It was unnerving, disturbing and in a way backwards, to see her face whenever I closed my eyes. But, I continued to concentrate, remembering the details of what my new visions were trying to tell me.

While her face flipped around in my head. A small key, on a thin silver chain, wrapped around her neck and tightened like a thin noose. Choking her, as her expression stayed the same. Smiling, the same uncertain smile. All the while, the burning in my throat seemed to tighten, as the noose tighten around hers. I tried to hang onto my concentration. Looking in, as the black turned to red, as it was poured out by an invisible hand from an elegant goblet. As the red engulfed her image. It twisted and blended with the darkeness, turning into the familiar darker red, gooey thickness. The girls image, completely disappearing into the bloody sea. Suddenly, with out warning, I felt my body uncontrollably convulse. And my eyes lids flew open. Starring up at the ceiling and the florescent lights, halfway dimmed. Everything was as it was before the vision, before the blackout. The cup, still on the table were I’d left it.

Did I black out again? I said aloud.

It couldn’t have been more than two minutes, since it happened. Then I heard the tapping on the glass. Elizabeth, was in the observation room, possibly the entire time. It was obvious she was concerned. Then standing behind her, with a satisfied grin on his face. Was the Doctor. The frustration and anger began to rise in me. I’d slipped up. Giving him what he was looking for. Although small, it was enough. My uncontrolled vision, had taken me hostage for only a few seconds. At that moment, whatever happened to me, it pleased him.

I couldn’t look at Elizabeth. She may have been genuinely concerned. But she was still part of the ‘Frankenstein Project’. And couldn’t do anything for me anyway. I didn’t care why she cared, I wanted to rip them both apart at that point. And without thinking, I rushed toward table with such speed, they were still starring at the place I stood. I was afraid and trembling with anger. Snatching the cup from the table. The contents, splashing and spilling over the top, onto my pale slender fingers. Allowing it to trickle through. I lifted my blood covered fingertips to my lips, licking away the spilled blood. Never breaking away from the Doctors satisfied glare.

If he wanted a vampire, he was going to get what he’s been waiting for.

I tilted the cup and gulped down the cold fluid, letting it hemorrhage from the corners of my mouth. Dripping onto my white shirt, and onto the floor. Not only was it cold, it was stale, and the smell wasn’t pleasantly perfumed either. I was a complete mess. He got to me. And I, like a child, rebelled.

R, if this is offensive, I apologize. I didn’t want the picture to cause a stain in memories. It is what happened. And I cannot lie.

Doctor Harron watched, and noted everything. Jotting down words, to describe this particular event. He was enjoying this much more then I expected. As for Elizabeth, she left the room at the moment I picked up the cup. She could never stomach my feedings, even when I was civil about it.

When the cup had no more to give, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. Smiled a bloody toothy grin.

If he didn’t know I had fangs, he knew now and he seemed just as pleased. He wrote more notes. I was done playing with him. I’d been fed, and now I just wanted him to leave. Leave me to my peaceful, quiet box. But that was too much to ask for. He watched me all night, never giving me a moments peace. As I read, as I rested and when I remembered Rose. The newspaper photo, in the back pocket of the bloodied jeans. I didn’t want to change. I was feeling sorry for myself. I wanted to smell the blood on me. To remind me of what I was, while I moped around. Wanting the doctor to understand as well.

Although my bed was welcoming, my energy was high, I didn’t need to rest. I couldn’t if I wanted too. But I lay in it, my back to the observation window. Allowing my thoughts to spin. It was the only past time I enjoyed. Trying to make connections and explanations, to my own questions. Why had I blacked out again? Could it be called a black out? Wondering, what was next in the doctors experiments, now that he’s gotten a glimpse of what I’d let escape. And Rose, whose image had become a permanent fixture in my mind. Always slightly calming the ghost inside of me.

When I thought of her and thought about the vision. I didn’t have a clue, what it might mean. But she was my only source, at the moment, for calming the storm. Calming the chaos. But still, there remained the ringing.

I wanted to know more about her. She had my attention. And she filled the monotony of the day. I just didn’t know…why.

What’s so special about the key on the chain? I thought.

What was the connection? Why was I drawn to her, when I didn’t know her? And she didn’t know me?

I’ve been in this box for a timeless, year and 3 months, this October. But it felt like an eternity. And could feel my frustration, rising again.

What do keys symbolize? Asking myself over and over, They open doors.

Starring at the wall. In the distance, or more like down the hall, I’d never seen. I could hear Elizabeth’s soft steps, as she shuffled through the hall. She was coming to visit, and check on me. Unable to sleep as well. I met her kind eyes through the glass. She sat down at the table, sharing a weak smile. Wrapped in a throw blanket, that hid the flannel pajamas, she wore underneath. It must have been a cold tonight. her cheeks were flushed pink. I was reluctant to say much to her after today, it was shameless. And shamefully, I took my place at the table in front of her. Her half smile disappeared, while she nervously adjusted the blanket a few more times. Her thoughts were always on my progress, never like the Doctor, who‘s thoughts I avoided, if I could. They always seemed to want to pull me into them.

Can’t sleep? I asked.

Too many things on my mind, Perish.

We had something in common tonight.