The Curse

“I did not come here for you, I came here for the child and I am going to leave with the child. She will not grow up in a place like this. It is unsuitable for her. She is meant for greater things,” a middle aged blonde woman snatched a new born baby from a young man with blonde hair hands and held her close in towards her chest,” She is the one.”
“You cannot take her, you will exploit her. Give her back to me. She is not meant for you,” The man extended his hand and the woman laughed.
“You honestly think I will give her back now. You will never have her, you will never see her again, I will see to that,” the woman smiled and looked down at the baby.
“I will not let you leave with her,” the man said a secretly called for the palace guards.
“You can not stop me,” the woman backed up towards the door and felt a knife poke the flesh of her back. She felt a shiver go down her spin as her back stiffened. She held the child tighter to her chest.
The young man unsheathed his swords and pointed it at the woman’s neck. The sharp point of the blade rested on the skin in between the bones of her neck. She took in a light breath and looked at him, her eyes narrowed and burned red. The young man did not flinch but ushered the guards to surround the woman. The guards hurried to surround her but the woman started to let out a howling cackle and stopped many of them in their tracks.
“Day by Day you will seek the night, and night by night you will cause the fright. Woman will faint as they see the real you, and men will hunt you down until you are thru. You will crave thing that cause life, as soon as you past into your afterlife. No peace for you soul, no end to your hunger. And you will be a man no longer. I cast upon you a curse of night; I curse you, my dear knight. You think you of won but it is far from over, it will be forever until you find your one true lover,” with that the woman tossed the child into the air and the child disappeared, crying as she went.
“You have sealed your fate witch,” the young man drew his sword back and stabbed his sword into the woman’s heart, she snack to the ground laughing.
“And you have sealed yours,” The woman fell back onto one of the guards and the guard’s hands jerked up and she pulled his sword out and tossed it at the knight. The sword went threw his stomach and his eyes opened wide. The witch sank to the ground smiling.
“ Uh…uhh…ahh,” the young knight pulled the sword out of his stomach and put his hand over the wound and felt the blood cover his hand. He fell to one knee, his guards gathered around him, and he pushed them away and looked at the blood covers sword in his hand. The crimson color of the blood reflected in his eyes and he took the sword with both hands and bought it down on the woman’s neck as she gave a faint hissing laugh.
Her head went rolling across the floor. Her head stopped in front of the door to the knight’s room, a smile frozen on her face and her green eyes dimmed. The color left her face as the blood drained from her veins. Meanwhile the knight fell to his knees using the sword to hold him up. He rested him head on the blade of the sword and fell forward cutting his face. He fell to the side of the sword and looked up at the guards as the hurried about calling for the doctor to be summoned. The knight reached up and grabbed one of his guards by the leg. The guard stopped and looked down at the knight. The guard knelt down next to the knight. The knight looked at the guard with one eye, for his other one was covered in blood. The guard attempted to wipe some of the blood away from the knight’s face but the knight grabbed him by the wrist and pulled the guard down.
“Find her,” the knight commanded in a crackling voice. The guard stood up and looked down at him.
“Never,” the guard sneered down at the dying knight, the knight’s eye went wide with shock and the guard took his sword out of his holster.
“You will regret this act of treason, Evan. I will see to your down fall,” The knight vowed with his dying breath. Evan looked down at the knight, smirked, and kicked his limp arm away from his leg.
“How can you do that when you already dead, Sir Mitchell?” Evan looked down at Sir Mitchell and spit on his face. Another guard then came in and Evan put on a face of grieving. The other guard lowered is head and headed back out the door to inform the others. As soon as that guard left Evan knelt back down beside Sir Mitchell. Evan picked up Sir Mitchell’s hand and ran his fingers over the ruby ring that the queen had giving him, Evan sneered at it and pulled it off of Sir Mitchell’s hand and slipped it on to his own.
Evan then stood back up and walked over to the beheaded witch. He looked at her body and shook his head.
“What a waste,” Evan then walked over to her head, picked it up, and looked at it. Her dull green eyes stared out into oblivion. Evan ran his hands though her matted hair and then tossed her head down beside her body and sauntered out of the room. Evan turned back towards the room and pulled the heavy wooden door shut. Evan took the key off the hook and locked the door as another guard came up the steps to the hall. The guard looked at Evan.
“I do not want any of the maids to get frightened so it shall stay locked until we can give Sir Mitchell a proper burial. Understand?” Evan stared coldly at the guard and the guard nodded as Evan hung the key back up on its hook, “Come along, there is no need to be in this place, it will bring only pain to linger here,” Evan walked towards the guard and wrapped his arm around him and lead him away from the door and down the hall.
The night went on and nothing moved in the room that should no be called a crypt. No mice scurried across the floor, no birds flying in to land on the window seal. The quiet was deafening then out of nowhere, a shriek could be heard. And the expression on the decapitated head changed from a wide toothed grin and a menacing smile as Sir Mitchell jerked up from his former lying potion. He gasped for air but found no need for it. His hands slid down into puddles of his own blood. He brought them back up and looked at them as the blood ran down onto his arms. He looked at his hands with fear, he should be dead, but here he was moving, seeing, hearing, and hungry. He had an intense craving for something but he did not know what.
He slowly pushed himself up off the floor and walked of to his wash station. He poured some of his water into a bowl, dipped his hands into the water, and watched the blood swirl around in the water until the water was no longer clear. He cupped his hands, lifted some of the bloody water to his face, and splashed it onto his cold skin. He looked down at the bowl of water and watched the waterfall back into the bowl. He was finally able to open his other eye and watched and a blood colored drop fell back into the bowl. He was every ripple that the drop made and heard the faint noise in made as it landed like it was a raindrop on the roof of his room.
“What has happened to me,” Sir Mitchell asked and he fell back on to a wall. He looked down at the woman’s head and noticed her smile. He ran over and knelt down beside the head and picked it and looked it in the eyes and began to yell furiously at it,” What did you do to me you witch? Why and I still alive?” he screamed and tossed the woman’s head against a wall and heard it crack open. Sir Mitchell brought his hands to his head and pulled on his long blood stained blood hair and screamed again and doubled over, bringing his elbows down on his knees.
He pulled his hands out of his hair and slammed them on the ground. He stood up and walked over to a small mirror he had been giving by the queen. He picked it up and looked into and saw a scar hard already formed on the left side his face, trailing from right above his eyebrow to the arena right before his ear. He realized how lucky he was he did not hit his eye. He set the mirror down, looked down at himself, and stared at the blood-drenched spot on his shirt. He ripped his shirt and his pale flesh seemed to glow in the moonlight that came streaming in from his window. He walked over to his wash station and cautiously took up some water in his hand and splashed it against his stomach. He took a rag from beside the station and wiped it against his stomach.
As the blood slowly began to come off, Sir Mitchell could feel smooth skin. He closed his eyes, let out an unnecessary breath, and moved the rag along until he felt a slight rise in his skin. He gritted his teeth as his fears were confirmed, he ran his fingers over the scar form the sword wound but refused to look down at it. Sir Mitchell jumped as he heard the door begin to open. He stared at the door and his nose began to fill with the most intoxicating smell he had ever smelt. The door pushed open and a guard walked in and looked at him.
Sir Mitchell stared at the guard, could see every vein on his body, and could hear the blood coursing threw them. The guard stood there motionless as Sir Mitchell moved towards him with inhuman speed. The guard had barely anytime to react as Sir Mitchell wrapped his hand around the man’s neck, nails digging into the man’s flesh. Sir Mitchell felt the features on his face changed but did not know into what. He could see the fear in the guards eyes increase as he looked upon Sir Mitchell’s face. Sir Mitchell felt a sharp pain in his mouth causing him to open it. The guard almost pasted out in Sir Mitchell’s arms as he saw two sharp teeth slide out from Sir Mitchell’s gums. The teeth glistened and seemed to push Sir Mitchell’s canines up into his gum.
Sir Mitchell let out a groan but because of his new teeth, he seemed to be hissing. He lowered his head, looked at the guard, tilted his head to the side, and lowered him head down the man’s neck. Sir Mitchell heard the slight pop of the man’s skin as he drove his new teeth into the flesh.
Blood poured into Sir Mitchell’s mouth and he sucked it down. He could feel the man’s blood coursing threw his body and it gave him and new energy. Sir Mitchell began to suck harder as the blood rejuvenated his body. The guard let out a muffled scream and Sir Mitchell pulled his face away from the man’s neck. Blood slid slowly down his chin and dripped off the white fangs. Sir Mitchell ran his tongue over his teeth and smiled for the first time since coming back to life. The guard melted back in Sir Mitchell’s arms and tried to talk to him. Sir Mitchell looked down at the guard and seeing the pain, he saw in laughed slightly to himself. Sir Mitchell then grabbed the man’s neck tightly and gave his neck a quick jerk. A sickening squishing pop sounded in the room as the guard fell to the ground dead. Sir Mitchell wiped his chin off with his hand, walked across the room, and fetched another shirt from his wardrobe. He slipped on a long sleeved white shirt then grabbed his green tunic and slipped it over his head. He grabbed his belt and fastened it around his waist. He walked over and picked is sword up off the floor from where is had fallen and put it back in its sheath.
His boot resounded as he stepped out into the hall. He pushed his matted hair out of his face as he moved down the dark dank hall. His eyes focused in front of him, he followed the metallic smell of blood. His nose was filled with many different kinds of blood; he began to learn the smell of each person’s blood was as distinctive as their personality. He passed by many maids and guards unnoticed but as he past he learn things about then. If the person was cruel and vindictive, the smell of their blood was more pungent, and had more of a rotten smile to them. If the people promiscuous their blood gave, off and offending odor, like that of horse manure. But if the person he passed had a good heart, was a champion to the people and had done many good things, or was a virgin their blood gave off a fruity sweet aroma.
But as Sir Mitchell’s hunger began to return, the different aromas meant nothing to him. The hunger was the only thing that meant something; he had to satisfy it if only for a little while. He walked down a hall were a maid was busy cleaning the floors. He walked towards her and the smell of her blood filled his nose. He turned up his nose but still moved forward. He put out his left hand to grab her shoulder and looked down at her hand. His ring was gone.
“Why that no good bloody bastard,” Sir Mitchell mumbled to himself but it was still loud enough to get the maids attention. She turned around and looked up at him. She smiled and the skin at the corners of her eyes folded downwards on the creases that formed. Sir Mitchell gave her a faint smiled, but he could feel the need for revenge growing in him. This kill would have to be quick.
“What can I do for you Sir Mitchell?” the portly maid asked as she pushed herself up off the ground and brushed off her brush. Sir Mitchell cocked one side of his mouth up, walked towards her, and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She smiled at him and his mouth jerked open a bit, just enough for his fangs to come out. She opened her mouth to say something bust Sir Mitchell covered her mouth with his hand, pushed her back onto the wall, and shank his fangs in to her neck. He tried to encourage the blood to come out as quickly as possible by pressing his tongue into her neck right under the puncture wounds. He drank her quicker than he would have like and nearly drained her. But he learned he like to see their faces as they struggled to talk to him. He pulled away from the woman and stared at her.
Her eyes began to roll back into her head and Sir Mitch grabbed either side of her face and pulled up on her head. Her neck snapped and Sir Mitchell let go of her and she sank to the floor, her head resting on her breasts. Sir Mitchell backed away from her and wiped his chin off with the rag she was using to clean. He tossed the rag down and started down the hall.
“Here Evan my lad, let me know where you are, cause if you do not I would hate to have to hunt you down, it would only cause you more pain.” Sir Mitchell rubbed his hand wear the ring should be and then snapped his knuckle. He then extended his fingers, cracked all the joints, ran his tongue to the corner of his mouth, and lapped up a forgotten drop of blood.
Sir Mitchell strolled out of the castle and down a worn cobblestone path. He stopped a ways down the path and sniffed the air. His head rolled on his shoulders, his upper lip curled, and he let out a raspy breath. He brought his head back around and stared ahead on the path, his eyes burned as he stared the village down. Sir Mitchell straightened his shoulders up and walked down the path and into the town.
The town was quiet the only noises were the ear piercing caws of some crows and the faint bark of a dog. Sir Mitchell walked through the town until he came to the tavern. He stopped outside and looked inside the big side window. He saw Evan sitting at a table with a couple of other guards. Evan had pulled the bar wench down onto his lap and was ogling her massive amount of chest cleavage and drinking a pint. Evan let out a laugh that reminded Sir Mitchell of a jackass. Sir Mitchell narrowed his everlasting blue eyes. Sir Mitchell walked slowly over to the door, listening to Evan’s cackle; he clenched his jaw as he reached for the door.
“How quickly you forget your treachery, and how soon you will remember,” Sir Mitchell mumbled to himself as he opened the door to the tavern and walked in.
Evan who was sitting in his chair spat the contents of his mouth out all other the bar wench’s chest, and started to cough uncontrollably as he saw Sir Mitchell. Sir Mitchell sneered at Evan and then turned and headed back out of the tavern. He knew Evan would follow.
Evan wiped his brow, looked around the tavern, and let out a deep breath. He picked up his pint, started to take a drink and dropped the cup as he saw Sir Mitchell walk by the window. The cup bounced on the hard wooden table and the ale spilled out everywhere. The ale dripped off the table and onto Evan’s pants. The bar wench jumped up and looked down at him and the table. He looked up at her and tried to explain, but she stormed off. The other guards at the table looked at Evan with worry on their faces.
“What??!!” Evan turned to them furiously.
“Are you ok…you look like you just saw a ghost Evan,” one of the guards said and Evan’s expression changed as he looked out the window and Sir Mitchell was gone.
“I…I …think I did,” Evan barreled towards the door and the other guard looked at each other confused. Evan walked out into the empty street, looked up and down it, and saw a flash of green turn a corner. He walked quickly to the alley in which the flash of green came from.
He peered down the alley and saw a figure walking away. Evan studied the figure, the way it walked, the width of the shoulders, the height, the length of the arms, and there was no doubt in his mind who it was. Evan began to walk down the alley and then the figure stopped. Evan stopped and looked at the figure. Evan then slowly started to walk again.
“You….you…you’re suppose to be dead,” Evan’s voice shook as he spoke.
“ And you were suppose to be my comrade,” Sir Mitchell said in a very cold voice as he pivoted around and face Evan. Evan froze in the tracks and looked at Sir Mitchell. The color fled from Evan’s face and the wet spot on his pants no longer consisted just of ale. Sir Mitchell smirked and walked towards Evan.
“How…how…how…can this be?” Evan stuttered and Sir Mitchell’s pale face came into perfect focus. His gleaming eyes, the scar, his blonde hair, he parted lips, and his gleaming teeth, no not teeth fangs, “Sir Mitchell?”
“NO! No…not Sir,” Sir Mitchell sneered at Evan and Evan took a step back,” I am not your sir,” Sir Mitchell’s s dragged out, “I am you syre.”
Evan stood in shock as Sir Mitchell approached him quicker than Evan could have imagines. Sir Mitchell slides his hand around Evan’s neck and under Evan’s thick brown hair. Evan shivered and Sir Mitchell could feel his flesh begin to crawl. Sir Mitchell jerked Evan’s head up right and looked into his eyes. Evan feels his eyes burning into Sir Mitchell’s and Evan let out a breath and did not inhale again. Sir Mitchell titled Evan’s head slightly and pushed his hair out of the way. Sir Mitchell opened his mouth and the glistening fangs came into full sight. Evan attempted to close his eyes but he could not.
Sir Mitchell ran the fangs down Evan’s neck and the brought his head back and forcefully inserted his fangs into Evan’s warm, soft, flesh. Evan’s body flinched and Sir Mitchell pressed his lips onto Evan’s neck. Sir Mitchell pressed in on the arena around the vein causing the blood to surge into his mouth. His tongue lapped at the puncture wounds and Evan’s pulse began to slow. Sir Mitchell could smell Evan’s blood, foul beyond belief.
As Sir Mitchell fed, he raised his eyes to see Evan’s stepdaughter standing in the alley. Sir Mitchell pulled his head back and looked into the girls horrified eyes. Sir Mitchell allowed Evan’s body to drop to the ground and he slowly walked towards the girl. She backed up slowly, her eyes fixed on his, and the blood rolling down his chin.
She tripped and landed hard on the ground, she let out a faint cry and began to try and pick herself up and Sir Mitchell used is abnormal speed to get to her and lift her off the ground. She fought in his arms and Sir Mitchell laughed and put her down, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and led her back to her fallen stepfather.
“Daddy,” the girl whimpered as she looked down at Evan, his color nearly gone and his chest barely rising. Tears began to stream down the girls face and Sir Mitchell ran his long finger up the side of her face and wiped a tear away. He then looked at his finger as the tear rested on his cold skin and brought it to his mouth and liked it off. It was salty and clear unlike the metallic and robust blood he had just feasted on.
The girl dropped down beside Evan, pulled out her handkerchief, and pressed it hard against the wound on Evan’s neck. She turned and looked as Sir Mitchell swatted down next to her and brushed some hair out of her face.
“How old are you Rebecca?” He asked calmly looking her up and down. She edged away from him and Evan weakly grabbed her wrist. She looked down at Evan. Sir Mitchell reached out and pulled Evan’s off Rebecca’s wrist. Rebecca looked up at Sir Mitchell with blood shot eyes.
“I …I am fifteen Sir,” Rebecca mumbled under her breath but Sir Mitchell could hear her clear as day.
“Ah, so young, it would be a shame you something terrible to befall you,” Sir Mitchell stated eying her throat.
“Sir, please help my daddy,” Rebecca begged. Sir Mitchell sneered and looked down at her.
“Why should I?” Sir Mitchell stood up and kicked Evan in the side,” He left me for dead earlier.”
“Sir I am afraid I do not understand. What are you talking about?” Her eyes scanned Sir Mitchell looking for an answer.
“Stand up,” Rebecca hesitantly stood up and Sir Mitchell dropped his belt to the ground and took off his green tunic and gestured fro Rebecca to come closer. She looked down at Evan as his eyes seemed to dim. Sir Mitchell let out a growl from deep in his throat and Rebecca’s eyes widened and she walked to him.
Sir Mitchell too her hand and ran it up under her shirt and placed it over his heart. Her skin shivered as he placed her hand. She looked blankly at him then her eyes open and she brought her had back to her quickly. She held her hand in close to her body and looked at Sir Mitchell. Her small chest raised and lowered as her breathing quickened.
“How can you be standing there?” she said softly.
“And act of magik,” Sir Mitchell answered as he walked around to the other side of Evan and knelt down beside of him. Evan rolled his eyes to look at Sir Mitchell. Evan blinked repeatedly as his vision began to blur. Rebecca just stood there holding her hand and thinking.
Rebecca turned and looked at Sir Mitchell watching Evan die. She closed her eyes tightly and took in a deep breath. She opened her eyes and looked up at the night sky. The moon shone bright down on them and there were no stars.
“ The moon predicts trouble and the stars hid,” she lowed her head and looked at Sir Mitchell who was now looking up at her, “ You are what the stars run from, you are the trouble the moon speaks of. You are a monster!”
Sir Mitchell jolted up and looked at Rebecca.
“I am not a monster! I am a man, a cursed man,” Sir Mitchell look down at the ground.
“Then prove it,” Sir Mitchell looked back up at Rebecca,” Prove you are a man, prove that there is still a soul trapped in your cold body. Save my daddy.”
“Its not that easy Rebecca, I do not know how,” Sir Mitchell looked down at Evan and Evans chest began to sink.
“There must be an away. You took his blood,” Rebecca looked around frantically and looked back up at the moon.
She saw a red hue come over it and she fell to her knees and screamed. Sir Mitchell leaped over Evan and ran around to the back of Rebecca. He placed his hand over her mouth to muffle the scream. He sank down behind her and se began to rock. Rebecca stopped screaming, narrowed her eyes, and bit down hard on Sir Mitchell’s hand. He jerked it away and looked down at her.
“You little wench,” Sir Mitchell began to suck on the wound on his hand. Rebecca stood up wiping her mouth of his blood and as she lowered her hand, she looked at him.
“You took his blood now give him some of yours,” she screamed at him. Sir Mitchell turned his head away from her until she head finished.
He turned and looked back at her and she began to pull on the ends of her long brown hair. She swayed in place as Sir Mitchell thought about her idea. Sir Mitchell had no clue what would happen if he mixed blood with another and he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out. He looked at Rebecca as she stood there going to and fro and frustrated kept pulling her hair. She was so young and so beautiful he hated to see her so distraught, therefore he reluctantly knelt back down beside Evan.
Sir Mitchell looked at the palm of his hand and watch the blood form a small puddle. He lifted his hand over Evan’s mouth and tilted it. The blood dripped down from his palm and onto Evan’s nearly blue lips. Evan’s lips flinched and his mouth opened slightly. The blood rolled over Evan’s lips and down into his mouth, it rolled over his tongue and down his throat causing him to gag.
Rebecca leaned down over and watched , her eyes fixed on every falling drop of blood. She twitched as Evan began to cough. The puddle of blood under Evan’s head began increasingly larger with every passing minute. Rebecca became tired of waiting, she knew her daddy was running out of time. She brought her hand up to her mouth and chewed on her fingers. Sir Mitchell looked up at her.
“I tried you suggestion, but it has not worked,” Sir Mitchell started to pull his hand away but Evan’s hands shot up and pulled Sir Mitchell’s hand down to his mouth.
Evan shank his teeth into Sir Mitchell’s hand and Sir Mitchell cried out. Sir Mitchell tried to pull his hand away but Evan had found some unknown strength and wouldn’t let go of Sir Mitchell’s hand. Rebecca smiled ad her eyes lit up.
Sir Mitchell finally ripped his hand away from Evan’s mouth. He looked down at his hand and saw the small wounds from Evan’s teeth heal over. He could hear his flesh melding together. Sir Mitchell saw the scars smooth back out and even with the rest of his skin. Evan looked up at Sir Mitchell and started to cackle. But the cackle soon turned into a couch.
Evan clawed at his chest ripping through his shirt and tunic. The shredded shirt fell to the ground and began to get drops of blood on it as Evan began to claw into his chest. Rebecca fell to the ground and pounded on her head and screamed at the top of her lungs. Sir Mitchell looked back and forth and look.