Melatiah DeCuir, Chp. 6, Gen. 3, 1751

     She liked fresh berries off of a flourishing bush.  She liked sitting on the beach in the moonlight.  She was an only child.  She was born in Charleston.  She smelled like delicate lilac. Her skin glowed, a radiant pale shine.  Her curls of ribbon-like hair bounced gently as she laughed.  She seemed perfect.  Maybe too perfect.
     But she still held back secrets.  Melatiah could feel it.  He could tell she was holding something back, was uncomfortable, or maybe didn't trust him quite enough.  When he would ask how old she was, she'd ask how old he was.  When he'd ask why she had followed his family around, she'd change the subject.  And now Melatiah was skeptical of Aphrodisia.

     Of course, Aphrodisia was one of the best things that had happened to him, Melatiah would think.  She's simply wonderful!   But even as he knew that, he found his lover quite odd.

     Her eyes had a bright glow -- but only if one looked directly into them.  Her skin would almost smoke in the midday sun.  Her teeth were so sharp.  Melatiah was almost afraid to kiss her.  But how he did love her!

     "What's wrong, my love?" Aphrodisia batted her eyes at Melatiah.  "Is there something troubling you?"  
     Melatiah glared.  Suddenly, he felt about to explode with anger.  "Why do you hide things from me?  I'm so tired of you keeping secrets to yourself and leaving me in the dark!  I have told you again and again that I will love you no matter what.  You haven't told me everything.  You have to tell me now.  How can you expect me to trust you if you don't tell me?"

     Aphrodisia's face drooped.  Her eyes held a sadness that Melatiah could not comprehend.
     "Alright," Aphrodisia whispered.  "I'll tell you."
     Melatiah felt worried.  He was not sure of why.
     "I... Well, I was the cause of your mother's death.  I killed her."

     Melatiah felt his heart go numb.  His face was a piece of plaster.  His eyes were chipped and watery. I killed her.  I killed her.  I killed her.  I killed her.  I was the cause of her death.  I killed her I killed her I killed herIkilledherikilledherikilledheriwasthecauseofherdeath.  Death Death Death Death Death.... Two bleeding circles on her arm... unknown cause of death... dog bite... reaching out to you, fear surrounding you... Aphrodisia... 

     "You killed my mother." He said simply.  Calmly, stoically.  Quietly.  He laughed, then stopped abruptly.  "You killed her.  You killed her!  YOU KILLED MY MOTHER!"

     "You killed her, Aphrodisia.  You killed her," Melatiah squeaked.  He reached toward the sky.  Aphrodisia tried to take his hands in hers, but Melatiah jerked them away from her grasp.  
     "You're a vampire, aren't you?  One of those blood-craving savages that steal life away from others, aren't you?  One who kills for your own worthless benefit?  One of those disgusting, sly-"
     "Melatiah, you don't understand! Let me explain-"
     "-sneaky, fruitless, barbaric animals that kill innocents!  How dare you harm Emilie?  What did she ever do to you?  I had never doubted you before, and now I wish I had.  For once I began to doubt you, I noticed what you really were.  You are evil with a beautiful face.  That's the worthless scum you are."

     Aphrodisia had not expected this type of reaction.  She had thought that Melatiah might crumble into her arms and sob.  But now, at hearing all of his angry insults, Aphrodisia was the one who wanted to crumble into his arms.  Only she knew that he would drop her to the sand, cold and hard.
     
     Her eyes filled with sad tears; tears she had not expected to shed.  "Yes, Melatiah.  Maybe I am what you said.  Maybe in your eyes I really am a blood-craving savage, a stealer of life, a killer for my own benefit.  I just might be a sly, barbaric animal that kills innocents.  Maybe I am-" Aphrodisia's voice caught "- worthless scum.  But you didn't let me explain.  You didn't let me tell you my whole story.  You just jumped to whatever conclusion popped into your head.  And you certainly do not understand me, my life, and my hardships.  
     "I'm disappointed in you, Melatiah DeCuir.  This is not the Melatiah I saw buy those slaves a while back.  You aren't the Melatiah I saw set Nancy and Exeter free.  You are someone else.  If you can accept the differences and hardships of slaves, can you not accept my own differences and hardships?  If you can accept what makes others who they are, why can't you accept what makes me what I am? And now my little soliloquy sounds so silly because I have only explained part of my story.  A word of advice: if you want to know someone's story, listen for the WHOLE THING!"  Aphrodisia shot a look of ice at Melatiah, and turned around, walking away.

    Melatiah did not understand.  He sadly gazed off at Aphrodisia's disappearing figure.  She did not look back.  
    Once again, Melatiah wondered what he could have done differently.  "Wait!" He called out, but she was already too far away to hear.  Red hot fury pulsed through Melatiah's veins.  Aphrodisia had killed his mother -- but why?  What had made her do it?  Melatiah sobbed in the humid air.  Betrayal clouded his vision.  Aphrodisia had betrayed him.


******************************************************************************

     She had lost track of time.  All she knew was that she had been walking all night, sometimes weeping, sometimes remembering back to the days when she and Melatiah had been happy together.  Aphrodisia knew that killing Emilie was bad, but she felt that she had learned so much since Emilie's death.  In her heart of hearts, Aphrodisia knew she was not a blood-craving savage.  But Melatiah's words had cut deep.

     If Emilie DeCuir were here, what would she do?  If Elizabeth Laurier-Beaumont were here, what would she do?


     Aphrodisia knew that she had to right these wrongs.  


******************************************************************************
ONE MONTH LATER:

     Aphrodisia cautiously crept up to Melatiah, who was sitting on the old wooden bench.  She was unsure of what to expect from Melatiah, because she had left him with a month to settle with the idea that she had killed his mother.  Aphrodisia wanted today to be the day that Melatiah found out her whole story.  If he listened, that was.

     "What are you doing here?" Melatiah asked.  "What do you want from me? Blood?"
     Aphrodisia ignored him.  "I'd like to tell you my whole story, if you'll listen to me."
     Melatiah snorted.  "Amuse me.  I'll tell you if I think it's laughable or not."
    

     "I was born in Charles Town, in 1648.  I was born human.  I lived a sad childhood, as my parents did not want me.  They left me in out in the streets when I was six because they did not want the burden of taking care of a child they did... did not want to have.  I ate the leftover scraps of the wealthy and was beaten by them because they did not want a filthy child eating their unwanted food.  


     "So I lived in the streets, with other kids who were orphaned until I turned twenty.  At that age, I decided to leave Charles Town.   The night before I was set to leave, I slept in the graveyard because I not many people visited at the time, and I wanted to protect the few valuables I had stocked up on during my homeless life.  But, that night, I awoke with a start to find a strange looking man staring down at me.  He had startling glowing eyes and terrible fangs.  He offered to turn me into a vampire.  He said it would make my life better, less sad.  He told me he knew that I had a tough life on the streets.  I didn't know he was wrong.  I agreed, and he turned me into a vampire."

     Melatiah's anguish had morphed into concern.  "I... I didn't know you had suffered so much in your childhood.  I'm very sorry..." 
     Aphrodisia nodded.  "I'm not done, though.  Life as a vampire was hard.  The man left me all alone.  Once again, I was abandoned.  I had an intense longing for blood.  I was starving, and I needed blood or else I would die.  I visited the home that belonged to my parents.  I-" Aphrodisia let out a soft whimper "- drank every drop of blood they had.  Once I realized what I had done, I felt terrible.  I tried to wake them up, but they were dead.  I finally understood that I had made a mistake in agreeing to the man's offer.  But there was nothing I could do.  Once you're a vampire, you can never go back."

     "I fled to France, leaving innocents drained of blood behind.  I began to ask myself if I really deserved to live since I was killing so many people.  I tried to drink from animals, but it wasn't the same.  I had a difficult time learning to control my desire for human blood.  
     
     "In France, I met a young girl who changed my life forever.  I called her Lizzie.  She was a sparkling child with a beautiful imagination.  I became her 'imaginary' friend.  I couldn't let her parents see me -- I knew they would be suspicious.  Lizzie and I would play in her backyard all the time.  Sometimes we would visit a small stream in the woods.  One day, after it had rained, Lizzie begged me to take her to that stream.  I wanted to refuse because it was slippery.  I didn't want Lizzie to fall and get hurt, but making her happy was the least I could do.  Her younger sister had recently died from an illness.  Making Lizzie happy made me feel better and forget about my own problems."


     "We did visit the stream, and Lizzie wanted to cross it.  I told her not to, but she did anyway.  She slipped on a wet stone and fell into the water, face  down.  If I had not been there to save her, I fear the sweet girl of ten years might have drowned.  I always feel like if I had been a little more responsible, the whole situation could have been avoided.   Sweet Lizzie Laurier..." Aphrodisia sighed.

     "Lizzie Laurier? Do you mean Elizabeth Laurier?  Did she move to Detroit? That yellow house?" Melatiah interrupted, forgetting his anger at Aphrodisia.  Aphrodisia smiled.
     "Yes, that was Elizabeth Laurier.  I knew her."
     "You saved my grandmother's life..."
     "On with my story, though.  Lizzie grew up, and eventually I hid myself from her.  I wanted her to be able to move on.  She dearly wanted children and I didn't want our lives so intertwined that my decisions affected her wishes.  She meant everything to me.  I followed her to Detroit and have watched your family over the years.  When you were born, I became visible to you.  Sometimes, when you're happy, I can see a flicker of Elizabeth in your smile."  Aphrodisia sighed, saddening.

     "The trouble began when Bernard wanted to move.  He had your whole family leave.  I was torn; I wanted to stay in Lizzie's world, where her grave lay, where her dreams remained, but I knew she was gone and that she was living through her children and grandchildren.  I followed your family here.  I was desperately trying to ignore my desire for thirst; I tried to live off animals, and originally, I wanted your blood.  I pretended to not know much about your family in front of you.  I decided to drink from Emilie.  Thing was, I was so thirsty that I couldn't stop drinking... I drank too much." Aphrodisia glanced at Melatiah apologetically.  "I am so sorry.  I know I cannot make up for what I have done."

     "No, I suppose you cannot,"  Melatiah said.  "But I suppose the fact that you saved my grandmother earns you something.  If you indeed had not been there, my current family would not be alive today.  How can I ever return the favor?  And I know that you would never kill my mother with malice.  Anyone who knew Elizabeth would never be able to kill our family with malice.  You made a point the other day;  if I can accept others' differences, I should accept yours.  It is difficult for me to accept yours, but I will do my best to understand you and your differences.  It may be a while before you can earn back my ultimate trust.  It was an accident.  You must drink off only animals from now on.  If you agree to that, consider yourself forgiven, although understand that you will need to buy back my trust."

     "I guess you aren't a blood-craving savage after all," Melatiah smiled as Aphrodisia put an arm around him.
     "I love you, Melatiah.  I don't know where we go from here.  I mean, I understand if you cannot love me back anymore, but..."

     "Aphrodisia, I may be a fool, but... I still do love you.  No more secrets, okay?"
     "Okay."

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*The Antique Legacy*

Melatiah DeCuir

Melatiah DeCuir, Chp. 5, Gen. 3, 1750

     As Melatiah reached his twenties, he had for the most part gotten over the sadness of his mother's death.  Still, there lingered the deep hurt of losing a mother young.  But Melatiah had the determination in what a young woman (he struggled to remember her name; he often went to his diary entries to read of her) had told him: to not let the death ruin his life.

     Young Charles was doing well.  Charles had gone to Melatiah for help quite often in coping without Emilie, and in helping his brother cope, Melatiah felt better.   
     Melatiah was hopeful in his younger brother's success.  He knew Charles would do well in the world.  Both he and Charles knew that it would be time to say goodbye to each other, sooner then either one of them wanted.


     But what was concerning Melatiah, at the moment, was the declining health of Bernard...

     Bernard was fifty years old.  He was the oldest man on the street, and proud of it.  He often bragged about his age to nearby neighbors, who sighed and pretended not to care.  Bernard hardly noticed.
     
     Gray streaked his hear.  He was coughing all the time.  He was getting weaker by the day.  But he had recovered from the death of his wife quite well.  He preferred to think of the fond memories he had had of her instead of losing her.  He often told stories of meeting her as children and teasing her.  He chuckled at the happy memory of putting a frog in her hair.  He daydreamed aloud of their first kiss, of when Emilie struggled to become her own person, of when he came back to marry her from Boston.  
     He described in great detail the joy he had felt at the news of Emilie's pregnancies.  He talked about the day Melatiah was born.  The day Charles was born.  And his sons listened with all their hearts.

     "My dear son," Bernard whispered on one particular day.  He had been feeling more weak than usual, more tired, and the need to tell his son of a few things.

     Melatiah looked at his father, with his pale, sallow face, numb lips, and tired eyes.
     "I'm dying."
     Melatiah sighed.  "I know, Father.  I wish you could stay with us longer."
     "But I want you to know that I'm so proud of you.  As proud as a father could be."  Bernard stopped and sniffed, wiping a tear from his eye.  "You are as strong as your mother was.  Maybe even stronger.  Your mother had to do everything on her own.  Her father was often not there for her.  I want to know if I was there for you."

     "Yes, Father.  You were always there for us.  I believe you must be the opposite of Grandfather Claude."
     
     Bernard shook his head.  "Not the opposite.  Not the opposite.  Maybe just different.  Claude was a good man.  He had troubles, too.  But there is something I must tell you.  In the privy, underneath a loose floorboard, you will find a painting.  It was one your mother painted before she died.  She hid it there.  I have not seen it, but she told me about it.  Emilie was disturbed by it.  I know not why.  Maybe it will answer questions, or maybe not.  But take it out and hang it up."
     Melatiah nodded obediently.  "Of course, Father."
     Bernard sighed.  He wobbled a bit, then caught his balance.  "I... I think I'd better..."
     "Of course, Father."  Melatiah bit his lip.  He knew it was time for Bernard to move on.

     "This side of the bed, as you know, has not been made since your mother left it on the night she died.  I'm going to sleep on it now."
     Melatiah smiled sadly.  "I think that's a perfect idea, Father."

     "You look so much like Claude... and so much like your mother, my dear Melatiah."

     Bernard closed his eyes.  He never opened them again.

******************************************************************************

     The painting was of that strange woman... Aphrodisia?  Melatiah struggled to remember her...  How could it be possible that his mother knew her?  Questions swam in his head, but he could not answer any of them.

******************************************************************************

     Aphrodisia could not bear living.  Emilie was not the first victim she had killed, of course, but Aphrodisia began to think of the families that belonged to the victims.  The number of children left parentless.  The number of brothers left sisterless, the number of sisters left brotherless.  It all added up into an extreme number that Aphrodisia could not stand.

     She looked at the ocean, which had always calmed her on the most horrible of nights.  She thought of this every day.  For almost a decade.  She considered setting herself out in the sun to die.  It would take a few hours.  Or she could turn herself in, claiming to be a vampire.

  

     But these ideas did not seem right.  There would be no way to redeem herself.  She would just be killed.  And what if Melatiah had seen?  The image of him watching her die scared her more than living.  

     The long years that had passed had not been completely worthless.  Aphrodisia had nearly cleared Melatiah's memory of herself.  Unfortunately, there were a few things she couldn't erase, which made it even more difficult for her to kill herself.  Aphrodisia wanted to talk to him again.  Wanted to confess.  Confessing might make her feel better.

      Yes, that is what she would do.  Confess.  It sounded so easy!  Apologize, and give Melatiah some closure.  And then she would never drink from a human again.

******************************************************************************

     Melatiah was walking around town in the late afternoon when he heard some loud, angry shouts and cruel laughing.

     It only took a second for him to realize he was hearing the sounds of a slave auction.  Since it was later in the day, and most of the auctioning had been done earlier, there were not too many people interested.  Melatiah entered the auction house out of pure curiosity and dread.

     He smiled at the memory of Exeter and Nancy, but that smile was put out like a fire when he saw the slaves and heard them.

    "Papa, will I eva see you  'gain?  Papa?" A little girl cried.  "Papa, don't let dem take me!"

     The mother, crying as well, put a hand on the little girl's shoulder. 

     "Hey! Get over here, you stupid slave!" Yelled the slave owner.  The mother reluctantly hurried over, hoping to avoid a slash from the owner's whip.  She stood in place and looked at the ground.

     "This fine wench is healthy and is able to give birth.  Obedient and great for cleanin' and cookin'.  Nice an' young. Who's interested?"

     Melatiah was horrified.  He couldn't believe how terribly these poor slaves were being treated.  Melatiah did not know what he would do if he were split up from his family.

     "I'll- I'll take them all!" He shouted, surprising himself at the force of his voice.  The owner, too, was shocked.  "Mister Melatiah DeCuir?  You want the slaves?  Isn't your family the one that don't have any slaves?"

     "Yes, sir.  We don't have any, at the moment.  But I have a small kitchen and area for slaves, and I intend to put it to good use, mind you."

     The owner laughed.  "Well, wouldja lookit that...  You can have 'em all, Mister DeCuir, if you pay up."

     Melatiah smirked.  "How much?"

     The owner look shocked, again.  "I'll have 'em ready for you tomorrow, DeCuir.  I'll bring 'em to your house at noon."

     Melatiah nodded.  Of course, he had no intention of putting these innocent slaves to work.  He was going to set them free, and no one was going to stop him.  He turned around and came saw someone very familiar.

     Suddenly, every single memory Melatiah had of Aphrodisia came back to him, as if everything he had said to her, everything she had said to him, happened yesterday.

     "It's you," Melatiah said softly.  

     "It's me," she replied, gazing deeply into his eyes.  For the first time, she realized that she was falling in love with him.  He had listened to her words, all of those years ago, and he was better.  He had grown into something she had always wanted to be.  He had warm, understanding eyes that she felt she could trust.  

     "Who are you, Aphrodisia?  Why aren't you disappearing like you said you would?"

     "Do you want me to disappear?"

     "You didn't answer my question."

     "You didn't answer mine."

     Melatiah sighed.  Aphrodisia was even more beautiful than he had remembered.  He wanted to marry her.

     "It was really nice of you to buy all of them like that," Aphrodisia admitted.

     "Thank you."

     "Melatiah, I came back because..."

     "I love you, Aphrodisia.  I do.  I'm not sure if you love me back, but ever since I saw you as a young child, you've mesmerized me.  Maybe I'm making a fool of myself, but when you told me to marry a girl next door, I knew that I never could.  I only thought of you."

     "I love you too, Melatiah.  I knew there was something about you that set you apart from the other boys in Detroit.  There was something different about your family.  I wish I could marry you, but there are so many things about me that you don't know, would never want to know..."

     "I want to know everything about you, Aphrodisia.  All you have to do is start telling me.  Whatever your secrets are, I'll listen.  And I will accept every single one of them, because I love you."

      Aphrodisia gulped.  Confessing was going to be a lot harder than she thought it would be...

*The Antique Legacy*

Melatiah DeCuir

Melatiah DeCuir, Chp. 4, Gen. 3, 1745

~July, 1745~
Dear Journal:

     Since the passing of my mother, my life has changed in ways I cannot truly explain.  These things are hard for me.  My father has often been bombarded with the pressure to accept slaves into our home; which, as expected, he refuses the offers.  I am somewhat pleased.  It draws a rather, how should I put it... bad reputation to our household.  Our family is starting to be looked upon with an extreme distaste and ignorance.  But what really matters to me most is my mother.  Who needs the likes of other people if you have a loving family, right?

     I have not written  for a while, but there are so many things to say.  It pains me to write this, or even to think about it, but every night before I go to bed -- even approximately three years after -- I still see the image of my mother, painstakingly reaching out to me with hope and... and almost a look of comfort to see me there.  It is an odd combination: hope, comfort, and death.  Death does not belong with hope and comfort.  Why must it have stolen my mother from us?

     Aphrodisia had been of great aid to me, although she had acted slightly strange.   I still remember our conversation about a month after my mother's passing:

     She had crept up behind me and sat down next to me.  We were quiet for a few moments.  She seemed extremely uncomfortable.  

     Finally, she asked, in a wobbly voice, "Are you doing alright?"
     I glared at her with such intensity.  "Of course I'm not!  Just how do you think I'm alright?  My mother just died in front of my eyes, and you think I'm ALRIGHT?"

     Aphrodisia shrank back, gulping.  She hesitated, then said, "Look, I'm sorry.  I just... I just want to tell you -- I mean, I just wanted to help you feel better.  Talk with you.  About it.  Did the apothecary determine the... the cause of death?"

     I chuckled halfheartedly. "That's the thing.  They found these really weird marks on Mother's arm-"
     "What kind of marks?" Aphrodisia interrupted, eagerly. 
     I looked at her strangely.  "Well, I guess they were two tiny circles.  The apothecary thinks it might have been a dog that bit her.  It probably had a disease.  But..."
     "But you don't believe it?"
     I sighed.  "I don't know.  It doesn't seem right.  There were a few drops of blood running down her arm, but otherwise, she seemed fine.  If a dog just came up and bit her, how could it have killed her that quickly?  I don't understand it."  I stood up from the bench.  Aphrodisia rose, too.
     "The only other thing I can think of," I said, "is that it could be a vampire."

     Aphrodisia gave a few nervous giggles.  "Don't tell me you believe about all that pish posh about vampires.  They're all myths!  Think about it.  Vampires?  You must be joking!  Vampires are for bums who wish to scare infants."
     I was quiet.  I did not know what to believe; I still do not.  "I'm not sure."
     She coughed.  She fell silent, staring at the ground.

     Quiet tears ran down my face.  I couldn't hold them in any longer.  Aphrodisia regarded me with great interest; surprise, even.  I felt so silly standing there, with my face a hot, sticky, wet mess.  I felt alone.  I was alone.

     But then, Aphrodisia grabbed my arms gently.  Her face was near mine.  She said, "Melatiah, I know things are difficult.  But you are different.  You can get through this.  Your mother went through the same thing when she was your age -- her mother died suddenly, too.  I know you can do it.  All is not lost.  You've got your whole life ahead of you.  You can do anything.  You can make this earth your world."

      "Your mother was stronger than she thought she was.  So are you.  Please, Melatiah.  Turn around your life.  Do this for me.  Please, I am begging you.  Don't let this ruin your life."
     I looked into her gleaming eyes.  I saw the sparkle, the glint of sunlight radiating outward.  I saw her lightly bouncing curls of fire shiver in the slight breeze.  I saw the faint pink blush on her porcelain cheeks.  She knew so much about me, and I knew so little about her.  But I had no idea of her age.  No idea of her family.  I had no idea who she was.  I didn't know her. 
     There were so many questions, so many thoughts.  I wanted to turn them all into words.  I wanted to find out more about this woman, who dazzled me with her spicy attitude and grinning smile.  But I just could not.  Aphrodisia had not finished speaking.


     She had paused.  I thought I could see tears in her eyes.  Her voice wavered once she began speaking again.  "I destroy everything I touch.  My hands look delicate, but..." Aphrodisia's lips trembled.  Her face struggled not to crumble.  "I don't want to destroy you."


     "Melatiah, I-" She started.  "I cannot wander around here anymore."

     She hugged me tightly.  I held on with everything I had left.
     "Someday, you'll find out what really happened.  But, for now, just forget me.  I never help.  I only hurt.  Kiss the girl next door, fall in love, marry her.  You will be forever happy.  I'll... be around this town.  Wandering through graveyards and walking on the beach.  You could find me, but you'll only catch a glimpse of me.  That's all I'll let you see.  I will disappear in a flash.  You will feel no pain."


     Aphrodisia did leave.  Slowly, over these three years, I have seemed to lost much of my memory about her.  It is almost like my mind is a sand sculpture and a wave washed over it, leaving only the most prominent portions behind.  Bit by bit, I am losing my memory of her.  It bothers me.  She blew my mind away.  But I know that I will see her again.  Even if for a flash of a second of time.  Because in a flash of a second of time, my mother died.  And in a flash of a second of time, I can decide to turn my life around.  And now I am.


     Au revoir,
          Melatiah

*The Antique Legacy*

Melatiah DeCuir