Rise From Darkness: Legend of the Raptured Vampire

By CJ Chastain

The Legend of Emily Moore, the only raptured vampire, spread around the world in the days after the Rapture of Christ’s Church. Why only one vampire was blessed with the rapture, among the millions of mortals, was a question everyone wanted answered? It allowed the legend to grow more quickly and touch every other vampire, all of which were left behind. Cyrus and his sister Abby were no different, except they were dedicated to seeking the truth and planned to learn the whole story about Emily Moore, one way or another. They’re willing to go to the end of the Earth for answers... and may very well have to.

• Language: English
• Publisher: CJ Chastain
• Release date: Jun 15, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310208577

Book preview

RISE FROM DARKNESS:

Legend of the Raptured Vampire

By C. J. Chastain

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2014 Monkey Moo Publishing

All rights reserved.

This book and the contents of this book are property of Monkey Moo Publishing. All rights are reserved.

Any reproduction of this book or the contents of this book, in whole or in part, are prohibited by law, without the written consent of the publisher. It may not be replicated by any means, including, but not limited to, electronic or mechanical, including, but not limited to, transcribe or rewrite, recording, photocopying, or any other duplication method.

This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to real people, places, and events is completely coincidental.

INTRODUCTION

Fear. Anxiety. Uncertaintanty. Confusion. For the first time in his life Cyrus really questioned how long he would be alive. Before, there were never any doubts. There was nothing but confidence and arrogance. He had been unstoppable. Before, he was the predator, if he so desired; the world was his food supply. Although he chose not to live like an animal, he could in fact take whatever or whomever he wanted. Before, he was happy as an immortal.

Now, nothing would be the same for Cyrus, or anyone else for that matter. Now, after more than three hundred years, so much had changed. He had to learn to be a vampire all over again. Now, so many people were gone and everyone left wandered aimlessly looking for answers. Now, nothing was certain, even for Vampires. Now, in a world after the Rapture of Christ’s Church.

PRELUDE

It was not instantaneous, although it did happen in unison around the globe. Analysts and self proclaimed religious experts would later claim that it started the instant it turned 2 p.m. Central Standard Time on that fateful Tuesday. They also claim that it lasted exactly sixty seconds, ending the second it turned 2:01. The exact time it occurred cannot be proven, or disproven for that matter, since no two clocks ever match exactly. The claims of its sixty second duration, however, had more teeth. Although there are no video recordings of what occurred, whenever it occurred, there is a peculiar consistency throughout the world. After checking traffic cameras, ATM security cameras, television news footage, and every other video that surfaced, there was one uniform and undeniable fact. At approximately 2 p.m. Central Standard Time, on that particular Tuesday, none of them recorded for exactly sixty seconds. Some froze, some provided only jumbled fish eye images, and other went blank completely. Regardless, for a full minute there is nothing. It immediately became sixty seconds that no one could ever prove actually occurred. Then, in perfect harmony, all the cameras of the globe resumed, recording the lives of those that remained.

Schools and day care centers had the highest disappearance rates. All children, of all ages, vanished sometime in that sixty seconds. At 2 p.m. Central Standard Time, some were at recess, others at lunch, but most were packed into their cartoonish classrooms learning their alphabet, their American history, or something as equally boring in their eyes. Some teachers left with them of course, but many lifelong educators found themselves standing in front of empty classrooms, not a child on Earth to teach. Beyond North America children played in the streets or slept in their beds until 2 p.m. Central Standard Time when they too vanished in under a minute.

Nursing homes also found themselves with far more vacancies that afternoon. A fact not limited to religious based assisted living facilities. Senior homes and community living groups were sparse and quiet that afternoon. Perhaps it is the calming of old age or the wisdom of experience; either way, it is now clear that an overwhelming number of older people had found some form of peace or approval by a higher power. Even if they did not display the traditional characteristics of someone born again, in light of the events and their mass exodus, an arrangement or partnership, or deal maybe, had been made.

For those who were left, a peculiar thing had happened. Like the security cameras and the ATM cameras that failed to record anything for sixty full seconds, those that were left suffered the same affliction. The complex and astounding human mind that records our experiences and imprints images and memories in our thoughts forever also failed to record. Just like you can’t remember what you were doing during the exact moment of any minute that is more than five minutes past, people soon forgot. At the instant it occurred there was an astounding acknowledgment that time had been lost. People knew they blacked out or blinked for a long, long time. Regardless, as more minutes past, then hours, days, and weeks, no one remains sure of what happened in that single minute, if anything happened at all.

If a single camera had recorded or a single mind had remembered, the spectacle of miraculous importance that had occurred would not have been understood. Like so many things in our world that we do not have the capacity to understand, for that one minute on that particular Tuesday, any rational thought or scientific reasoning would have been futile. Had those still here remembered what had occurred there would be thousands or millions of different versions of that day’s events. All would be based in genuine recollection, but the human mind would not have been able to comprehend what the eyes saw. Therefore, the one minute of lost time kept those left behind from losing all mental capacity and going, what would surely be, clinically insane.

Had they remembered they would have been in awe. They could describe how the clothes of those nearby began to sparkle like glitter that had been scattered from the sky. The shimmer, a perfect reflection, as if every spec of glitter was a soft shard of glass. Then is spread to their flesh; arms, legs, and faces finding the same reflective glow. No one was alarmed. No one panicked. Peacefulness had fallen over each and every one as we all waited for… something.

The glimmer spread and thickened covering more and more of those that were chosen, the glare growing too bright to continue to look at. A single ball of light grew within each one and intensified, becoming brighter than the sun. No heat permeated, but as each of the energy cores reached their peak and imploded without a sound, their original body was gone. Not melted or destroyed. Just gone. No clothes littered the ground. No signs of where they were or what they were doing remained. They were just gone.

The miraculous nature of the events were further perplexing in the lack of devastation. Considered that when this minute took place there were cars on highways traveling over seventy miles an hour and there were planes thousands of feet in the sky, no destruction occurred. As the lights grew brighter and the minds’ recorder continued to be paused, everything came to a stop. Cars were suddenly parked on the freeways, planes sat on the ground, some in odd places like residential neighborhoods or the tops of buildings, but everything became still nonetheless.

In the days and weeks to follow the debate became heated, not about how it occurred, but what had occurred. There is a reason, after all, that those who are still here are in fact still here. The remaining religious leaders insisted it was the Rapture of Christ’s Church and to be fair there was little evidence to dispute that. The significant links between those that left us were few within America, let alone the rest of the world. The only agreed upon consistent common denominator was children. Children, of all ages, ethnicities, and religions left us in that minute.

The fights occurred concerning the second most consistently common denominator. Those that were gone were those that had found Jesus or had not been exposed to him. As you can imagine, no one could know who had or had not truly found the Lord. That fact remained in the hearts of those that could not be asked. Even more debated was the possibility that thousands disappeared that had not been educated to the teaching of Jesus. Would these people be included in the Rapture? Possibly so. And what constituted being exposed ? Because no one knows, the bickering and battling rages on.

At the time of the Rapture, vampires were still commonly known as mythical figures. They were not yet exposed to the world for what they really are. Within the vampire communities, however, it was quickly apparent that another consistent common denominator existed. Without a doubt, not a single vampire had been included in the Rapture. Regardless of their vampire lifestyle, regardless of their human life, regardless of the circumstance surrounding their immortal turn, regardless of their dietary choices, regardless of their commitment to a kill free life, not a single vampire was blessed with a quick ticket out of this world.

The vampire underworld carried its own debates about that special occurrence. Why none were included, however, was not debated. Vampires had been damned and cursed; tainted for eternity. They were immortal in order to prolong their suffering. Deserved or not, the Rapture would have provided relief from the presumable pain of immortality, but for whatever reason, the end of their pain was not yet part of the plan.

The biggest disagreement about vampires in the rapture was the unfounded story that a single one had been included. With no evidence, the story of the one vampire who disappeared in the Rapture quickly spread. The lack of facts was replaced by speculation and that speculation was then replaced by assumed facts. It didn’t take long before the unproven tale became a legend of its own. Emily was her name. A real person at all, no one knew. A vampire at that, no one was sure. But the legend of Emily Moore quickly spread through the vampire world and beyond.

CHAPTER 1

Cyrus sat on the park bench staring at the childless playground. The late October wind was cooler now, a clear sign that fall was in full force and winter was quickly following. But for now, the air remained far from unbearable, if not perfectly pleasant. A couple of years ago, with the sun high in the sky, the place would have been covered with children running every which way, like ants storming a picnic. But the noise the kids could have produced would far exceed any sounds even a million ants could stomp up. A couple of years ago, he would have been in hiding, avoiding the sun, and waiting for nightfall. Instead, Cyrus walked to the park in the magic of daylight, but the swings sat motionless, the monkey bars had no weight pulling them down, and the water fountains remained unused and dry. Cyrus sat here often, not reminiscing, but remembering the way things used to be.

This day, however, he was not alone. Actually he was; he arrived alone, he intended to be alone, and he would certainly leave alone. But for a time he was forced to share the park. An older man, older by appearance but no doubt decades younger than Cyrus, made his way across the adjacent field. Bypassing a bench near the teeter-totter, and another one across from the biggest slide, he was making his way toward Cyrus. Although he wanted to be alone, being rude was not in Cyrus’ nature, so he sat and waited for what some would feel like an eternity. To Cyrus it was nothing like an eternity and soon the man approached, smiled, nodded, and sat next to him on the bench.

This place ain’t the same anymore the old man offered, clearly hoping to strike up a conversation.

Cyrus paused, not wanting to seem too eager, but again, not wanting to be rude.

No, it certainly is not.

Yeah, I was here when it happened.

Cyrus flinched inside, bracing himself for the dialog that would certainly follow, but he didn’t respond.

Where were you when they… the man stumbled, disappeared.

Where were you when…. Cyrus had heard this question over a million times in his life. Every generation has a handful of major events that stamp their lives forever, setting them apart from their parents’ generation and the one to follow. But for Cyrus forever was eternity. For the last fifty years he was asked, where were you when…, followed by references to September 11th, Princess Diana’s’ death, JFK’s assassination, the Beatles arriving in America, or the debut of MTV. True, some events were more significant than others, but the same question was asked regardless. Anything that happened that warranted the question was somehow grouped together in significance, at least to the one asking the question.

Before that he was regularly asked about the first time he heard Elvis, D-Day, the Wall Street crash of 1929, or the San Francisco earthquake of 1906. He did in fact still remember the first time he heard Elvis and cherished the memories surrounding the event. The legendary song maker had made an impact on Cyrus, the first musician to do so in a century . Cyrus would forever appreciate the Kings talent.

But over the decades Cyrus grew to despise the pointless question. He tried not to think about where he was during any of these events, especially those that occurred long ago. At one time, even three years ago perhaps, he could remember exactly what he was wearing and exactly what he was doing when gold was found in California. Abigail had instantly become infatuated with the new adventure. She wanted to get dirty, to sift the dirt and rock, and find gold for herself. Not for the wealth, Cyrus and his sister had accumulated plenty of that. It was for the purity of a new experience, something not everyone would get to say they had done. She wanted to experience everything.

Cyrus used to be happy to go along with her on any adventure she found. For Cyrus it wasn’t the adventure itself so much as the opportunity to chronicle the events. He preferred to be an observer; an investigative reporter of sorts. He enjoyed asking questions and learning about the people involved far more than he himself wanted to be a part of the activities. Cyrus saw the gold rush as a chance to learn about the people that dropped everything in their lives for a small chance to discover more. He was instantly fascinated by their ultimate commitment to a dream that had so many obstacles before it.

Yet the question asked so frequently, and most of the time asked with little sincerity, had now driven him away from people. He now loathed the question and he loathed the conversations that followed it. So he found himself making a conscious effort not to loath the obviously lonely man who sat next to him on the well worn bench.

The silence in the conversation was not awkward. With no children laughing or crying, and far less people filling the world with noise, the earth sometimes seemed to stop. Long periods of quiet, even in public were no longer uncommon. But the man’s face was losing color by the second. The smile from his approach was now gone and had not left any record of its presence behind. The hard earned wrinkles tightened as he saw his hope for even temporary companionship slipping away.

I was at work Cyrus chimed in and watched the light return to the weathered face and illuminate his eyes. I was alone…, at my desk…, working.

The codger nodded, pleased that Cyrus was at least willing to continue.

What do you do? inquired the old man.

Cyrus had accepted his temporary park companion, but needed to divert the attention away from himself. Answering questions only led to more questions.

Nothing exciting, Cyrus smiled for the first time, hoping it rang genuine, what about you?

Me, I haven’t worked in years, the man laughed, a sound far more sparse than it once was.

Cyrus’s smile widened instinctively, no doubt from the heart and void of any fake facade.

But a long time ago I used to be a teacher.

Cyrus would have normally smirked at a comment like that, amused by a mortal’s revelation of what constitutes a long time ago. But the man sitting next to him didn’t use it to generalize the time, but to acknowledge that it was further in the past than he would have preferred. Simply to say it was too long ago. There was no doubt he missed those times.

For over thirty years I taught the second grade. I taught first for one year, but it wasn’t for me. Science and history. Yeah, second grade… that’s a good year.

Cyrus was amazed by the spark that had been lit inside the retired teacher. He enjoyed seeing passion in others and hearing them talk about what drove them. In fact, seeing the passion inside others was in it of itself Cyrus’ passion.

For over three hundred years he had an acute interest in people and what motivated them to do whatever they do. He had once pursued his interest as a career, but quickly found that he didn’t necessarily know how to ask the right questions, at least not intentionally. Nonetheless, he still enjoyed hearing peoples’ stories; the fruits of their life, their uncontrollable desire to achieve greater things. It saddened him greatly to admit that he himself made a poor investigative journalist, as they are presently called, but Cyrus was nonetheless always driven to help these people tell their stories to others.

Although his journalistic skills failed him in investigation, he found solace in his ability to organize the thoughts of others and the timelines of events. He long ago gave up any attempts to extract the information himself and settled for the executive side of the public press. Initially limited in his options, technology in the modern era opened up far more opportunities with the mass production of newspapers and later the internet. As Cyrus looked deep into the hazel eyes of the former schoolteacher, his journalism career was at its peak. He was the Editor-in-Chief of the preeminent and only reputable source for legitimate vampire news.

Now there is no one to teach, the man appeared dower again and looked to his feet for guidance. I was sitting right here on this bench when… it happened. The park was full… and then it wasn’t. I just sat here afterward and stared at the swings. Somehow I just knew what it was and all I could think about was my daughter.

Cyrus turned toward him and closed his eyes. The man had latched his interest, releasing a core story from his life, from his heart, and with no coaxing.

She’s grown, he tried to smile again, but only made it half way. or was grown. Married, no kids, but I had hoped that there would be, someday. Then I knew there never would be.

Torture appeared on his face that had previously been disguised. The wrinkles around his eyes carried the pain and Cyrus knew that they had grown deeper in the past two years due to the unending burden.

Eventually I pulled out my phone and called her. I wanted her to answer so badly and then… hoped she wouldn’t.

The park fell silent again as he rubbed his eyes and stared at something well beyond the park fence.

For as much as Cyrus enjoyed hearing people tell their story, he retreated inside at the anticipation for being asks to share his. It was the cruel trick or ironic curse he carried everywhere; finding emotion and joy in others, but having it overshadowed by his own desire or need to remain anonymous in almost every way. That’s why he grew to despise the question, "where were you when?"

It had been over a decade since the question was inspired by new events, but after the Rapture, even though so many refused to believe that’s what occurred, that question had arisen once again. Where were you when…? Where were you when they disappeared? It had been just over two years, the anniversary recently passing, but most still remembered it