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

Melatiah DeCuir, Chp. 3, Gen. 3, 1742

    TWO YEARS LATER:

     Aphrodisia's pale, moon-dusted skin flashed in the light.  Her dewdrop eyes gleamed with willpower and evil.  After her two years of hard work, she was finally going to get what she wanted...
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     Aphrodisia gazed out the window, waiting.  Her stomach felt like it was bubbling.  She was weary of the bland, disgusting taste of farm animal blood.  Her mouth watered.  In just a few moments, her desires would be quenched, fulfilled to the top, overflowing.  She considered letting the wet saliva pool out from her mouth onto the ground, just for extra evil effect, but decided against it. 

     Emilie whimpered in her sleep.  

     Aphrodisia beamed.  It was happening.


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     It was so bright.  Emilie could barely see straight.  Her young son stood behind her.  Emilie could not help but realize how much he resembled both her and her husband.
     "Mother," Melatiah started, and Emilie turned around to face him. 

     To Emilie's great surprise, it was not Melatiah she was facing.  It was a strange woman.  In fact, it was the strange woman that Emilie had been haunted by for the last two years.  The woman had drifted into Emilie's thoughts and attacked her mind.   The woman Emilie had painted on the easel.  And now, Emilie realized, regretfully, that this was the young woman who had plagued Melatiah's peace as well.  And Emilie wanted to cry, for she did not believe her own son's truthful words.  She believed that he was ill of mind, crazy.  She had no faith in her son when she should have.

     And now this strange woman grasped Emilie's shoulders and smirked at her. 
     "What do you want from me?" Emilie asked boldly.  She did not waver from the weight of the arms on her shoulders.  In truth, she stood even taller.

     Emilie stared straight into Aphrodisia's eyes.  Her gaze did not lower, nor did her courage.  Emilie thought of her mother.
     "Well, in fact," Aphrodisia paused to let out a few loud, girlish giggles.  "I want my hunger to be... well, gone.  And you're the only one who can help me do that.  That's why I'm here.  And that's why you're here, too."
     "You're going to stop at nothing to get what you want, isn't that so?  Is there a chance that I die?"
Aphrodisia chuckled, showing her fangs.  "I suppose you could put it that way, yes."

     A silence erupted.  Emilie closed her eyes for a few moments, then opened them.  
     "Must you?  Must you take me from my loving family?  Must you leave two boys motherless?  Must you leave my husband without his wife?  Must you separate childhood friends?  Must you take me without letting me say goodbye?"

     Aphrodisia laughed, as if Emilie had spoken of something very amusing.  "I must!  You need food to live, don't you?  Well, I need blood!  It doesn't mean you'll die!  "  
     Emilie struggled to remain her composure.  She willed herself not to cry.
     "You see, Emilie, I've a great need to drink.  And cattle, and noble steeds -- they just aren't doing it for me.  I need human blood.  That's what I live on.  I would have drank from your son, but he's only a child.  Once he is eighteen, he'll be next.  I just cannot wait!" 
     "But... but why?" Emilie whimpered.  "Why us?"
Aphrodisia became silent and solemn.  "Your family appeals to me greatly.  I wish to say no more about that.  Not a word more."
     "Well," Emilie said confidently, "this is only a dream.  You cannot hurt my family.  You cannot hurt me."  

     "My dear, dear friend," Aphrodisia laughed, taking Emilie's arm, "you are quite mistaken.  This is truly the opposite of a dream.  This is your real life."

     Emilie braced herself for the pain.  And Aphrodisia plunged into her long-awaited wish come true.

     It was quite a bit of time before Aphrodisia was finished.  Normally, a vampire needed to be careful, as many victims perished due to loss of too much blood, but Aphrodisia had pushed that thought to the very end of her mind.  She thought she deserved a little more indulgence -- just this once.  She licked her lips with greed, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
     To the weakened, dazed Emilie, she said, "You've no idea how wonderful that tasted.  I cannot remember the last time I've tasted blood as good as that."  Aphrodisia smiled.  "Thanks for all of your help.  Every drop of it."

     Emilie felt faint and dizzy as Aphrodisia left.  She felt like she couldn't hold on much longer...


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     Emilie awoke with a start.  She was sweaty and shaking.  Head throbbing, Emilie sat up in bed.  She felt a strange feeling, compelling her to walk outside.  Quickly, she got dressed. 

     Emilie felt weak, like in her nightmare.  Just thinking about it made her shiver,  as she tiptoed down the steps, still managing to wake up Melatiah.

     The dream had felt so real...

     ... and Emilie found herself at the same place where the woman bit her: right outside the privy.  Her headache pounded so loudly that she was worried it would wake up her family.
     Suddenly, Emilie felt a feeling of great pain tear across her chest, leaving her in a shroud of darkness.  Her eyes were open and searching, and yet she could not see a thing.

     Emilie's world, at first full of light and hope, darkened.  She fell to her knees reaching out to the sky in a call of help, since her mouth would not form words.

     Emilie thudded to the ground.  Her last wish was to not be alone.  Her last thought was that she had to save her family somehow.  Her black vision lightened and she caught a glimpse of her handsome son, who had followed her out of the house and was now shouting at her with words she couldn't hear, images she couldn't well comprehend.

     Emilie reached out to her son, willing him to not leave her side.
     "Mother!" Melatiah yelled, desperately.   "I won't leave you!"

     The last thing Emilie saw was the midnight sky.

     "Mother!" Melatiah wailed.  "Mother, why did you have to die?  Why?"  
     Aphrodisia hesitated.  "There, there, Melatiah.  She really loved you," she said, biting her lip.

     At that moment, the consequences of Aphrodisia's actions dawned on her.  She had taken too much blood.  She should have been more careful!  She had only meant to scare Emilie, and just have a little wicked fun!  For the first time in her life, Aphrodisia felt a new feeling: regret.



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*The Antique Legacy*

Melatiah Beaumont

Melatiah DeCuir, Chp. 2, Gen. 3, 1740

~Late July, 1740~

Dear Journal:

     I, Melatiah, have written because of great importance -- it has been such a long time since I have written and I feel the need to catch up! Mother and Father decided to have us move.  To Charles Town, South Carolina!  Oh, it was such a long, long ride by horse and buggy!  I am so happy to be here at last.

     Mother and Father gave the house to Aunt Hettie and Aunt Felicity.  They promised to take good care of it.  How sad they were to see us go!  Aunt Felicity cried, and Aunt Hettie kept staring at the house, then us, then sighed in deep unhappiness.  I was sad too, so little nine year old me gave them a kiss farewell.  Yuck.  Well, I'm older now.  Can't you believe I am now twelve?  I'm way too old to be giving sloppy, childish kisses.  That stuff is for Charles.  Not I, Melatiah.

     I think my aunts were happy to receive the house.  Mother has told me many things about it.  She says it was very special.  Naturally, they should be happy to have the house.  I know Mother was sad.  I think I know why.  We had to leave many things behind because the horse couldn't carry too much weight.  He's an old horse, anyway.  Mother argued so much with Father.  She wanted to bring an old clock.  I don't know what was so special about it.

     She begged Father, but he wouldn't allow her.  Mother, I could tell, was heartbroken.  Why?  It was just an ancient clock!  I don't believe it has any special significance or anything such as that...

      
     One of the other things Mother was upset about was that we couldn't take Grandmother Elizabeth's portrait.  I was a tad saddened, too.  I am intrigued by her.  Her very presence is in the vicinity of that portrait.  I feel as though I'm being watched when I'm around it.  It is not a bad feeling.  It is a comfort.  I think she is beautiful, too. 

     Well, I must be going now.  I think Mother is calling my name... Yes, she is.  It must be suppertime already!

     Au revoir,

          Melatiah

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May, 1740;

     The house in Charles Town was similar to the Beaumonts' house in Detroit, though it was not a complete mirror.

     The architecture was actually quite different from other angles.

     The house was accompanied by the slaves' quarters...

     ...and, of course, a privy.

     Emilie couldn't comprehend why  Bernard had wanted to move so badly.  The house, on the inside and outside, looked almost exactly the same as their prior home.  Emilie had a sick, nauseous feeling at the pit of her stomach.  The house appeared to be the same size...

      
     The house was smaller. The house was smaller... THE HOUSE WAS NOT THE SAME SIZE, IT WAS SMALLER!  Emilie panicked.  She knew that they were not in the company of Exeter and Nancy (surprisingly, she was not too upset with Melatiah for setting them free), but Bernard had promised a larger house.  Emilie could not believe it.  Bernard had the house custom-made and he had it made SMALLER?  

     Emilie felt a burning feeling inside, a combination of quick, scared panic, and a slow, growling anger.  She had left her home, her past -- HER LIFE-- in Detroit for this?  It was not part of the compromise.  Bernard had promised her something much better than this!

     Emilie's rage grew with each step she took.  She wanted to rip each strand of honey golden hair out of her head.  Who cares if the garden is beautiful?  Who cares?  WHO CARES? I was tricked! Tricked!  

     She began feeling slightly faint, dull black was closing in on her vision.  She slowly staggered to the safety of a wooden bench.

      
     Bernard wandered about in boyish wonder; chasing after yellow butterflies and smelling iridescent flowers.  Emilie watched in bitter jealousy, the dark cloud on a sunny day.  Though, to her surprise, her unhappiness drifted away as she saw the joy on her husband's face.  He was very happy.  This place was everything he had wanted.  He would be forever happy in this home.  
     "Isn't this just delightful?" He giggled happily. "I had this garden made specially for you, my love."  Emilie decided at that point that if her husband was happy, she would try to be, too.

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     Melatiah loved exploring the mansion.  He crept through corridors, peeked inside the privy, and tiptoed on the trails in the backyard.  He even stole a look at the slaves' quarters, which he frowned upon.  Ever since he had set Nancy and Exeter free, he decided to set free any slave he had acquired.  No exceptions.  No exceptions at all.


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     The girl had followed them.  Goodness, was she tired from all that following!  From Detroit to Charles Town -- it was such a long, winding path that she honestly wanted to drink a whole ocean of hot, steaming blood.  Her throat burned from the lack of blood, her stomach growled, and at the end of the day, she had no source to drink from.  She really was not the chattiest woman in town. She silently urged Melatiah to grow up faster.  She was thirsty!
     And, she was just about to depart from the home, when...

     ... she ran right in to Melatiah.
     "Hey, it's YOU!" Melatiah screamed.  
     The girl, bored, sighed.  "What a miracle.  Now, will you please move out of my path?  I'm trying to leave."
     Melatiah did not notice her cold tone.  He barely heard her words.  "Father, help!  Help!"  He scrambled over to Bernard.

     "Father!" Melatiah pulled on Bernard's sleeve nervously, "there's this strange girl and she followed us from Detroit!  I know not of what she wants from us, but-"
     "Melatiah!"  Bernard snapped sharply, not looking up from his book.  "There is to be no yelling in the house.  And I see no woman in this room."

     "But, father, she's right over there!"  Melatiah pleaded desperately. 
     Bernard looked up, shook his head, then continued reading.  "There is no woman there, Melatiah.  Stop playing these games.  I am not amused in the slightest."
     The girl grinned an evil smirk and giggled to herself.  Melatiah shot her a frantic, wary glance.  "À bientôt, Melatiah."

     Melatiah's fear, to the girl, was almost as enjoyable as drinking blood.   She grew thirstier by the day.   The girl began to find small animals like cattle and horses to stunt the thirst that held her in a hungry grip.  She longed for the blood of little Melatiah, but attacking a child was out of the question.  It would never be possible.

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     When Emilie could not resist the tears, she let them fall.  She wanted to return home, to Detroit, where she had always wanted to stay.  She cried for Elizabeth, for little Charles would never remember her sweet face staring down at him from the portrait.  She cried for all the future generations of Beaumonts because they would never know Elizabeth.  They would never know her beautiful face, her classic, distinct smile, or her personality. She cried because she would never see the old clock again.  Oh, that clock!  That clock that survived the fire that killed Elizabeth Laurier-Beaumont!   
     I will never see my mother's portrait again.  I will never see the clock again!  I will always remember the happenings that occurred in that lemon-drop house.  Time, after all, never really dies.

     "Mama?" Melatiah whimpered at seeing his mother crying.  Caught by surprise, Emilie wiped her eyes and tried to appear cheery and warm, a mask over her true feelings.
     "Promise me one thing, my dear," Emilie smiled weakly.  "Promise me that you will write down everything you know about me.  We must begin a family tree.  I will write everything I know about my mother, and you will write everything you know about me.  And you will tell your children this and they shall do the same.  We must remember our family.  We must never forget."
     Melatiah nodded solemnly.  "I promise, Mama.  I promise."
    

      "That's my good boy." Emilie sniffed and gave him a hug.  Melatiah told her about the strange girl.  Emilie stiffened.  Bernard had told her, angrily, about Melatiah's peculiar behavior a few days ago.  
     "Uh, how interesting.  What is her name?"
     

     "I know not of that," Melatiah confessed.  "But I'm really scared.  She always talks to me and I think she is quite pretty, although she scares me so much!"
      Emilie didn't know to say.  "Well, uh, just walk away when you see her, how about that?"  Melatiah sighed and nodded, distressingly.  He could tell that she just did not understand.  He could not possibly walk away from the girl; she'd most likely follow after him!
     Melatiah thanked his mother and watched her return inside the mansion with a slight slump in her shoulders.  Before he could think about it more in depth, he saw the girl again.

     "Good day, young Melatiah," the girl mimicked in an attempted manly voice.   
     "Who are you?" Melatiah asked worriedly.  "What do you want?"  
The girl pouted, knowing the questions had to come up at some time.

     "My name is Aphrodisia Fledermaus.  I'm thirsty," she said, putting it quite simply.  A grin broke out on Melatiah's face.  "Your name is Aphrodisia?  I adore that name.  It is graceful and unique."
     Aphrodisia rolled her eyes.  "Yada, yada, yada.  The point is-"
     "Where do you live?  Where did you come from?  Why did you follow us?  Do we have something you want?  Why am I the only one who can see you?"
     Aphrodisia sighed.  "I'm hungry..."  
     "My mother-"
     "Your mother?" Aphrodisia interrupted hopefully, the fire in her eyes.  
     

     "Yes, my mother-"
     "Is she nice?  Is she a really good mother?"
     "Well, yes, naturally!"
     "Does your mother make friends easily?"
     Melatiah looked at her strangely.  "Uh, I suppose so."
     "Hm.   When can I meet her?   I'm nearly starving."
     "But she would not be able to see you-"
     "You know not of that, Melatiah."
     "But-"
     "Stop."  Aphrodisia's forcefulness surprised him.  She was beginning to confuse him.  "I cannot wait to meet her.  You've been such a big help.  Thank you, ever so much."  She winked at him evilly.  Melatiah shuddered.  He could not help but think she had something up her long, intricate sleeve.  There was something about her that he felt he couldn't trust, in the way back of his mind, but he was blinded by her beauty, and couldn't see beyond his eyes.

     Melatiah's intuition was trying to tell him something, but he would not listen to it.  In the events that followed the encounter between Aphrodisia Fledermaus and Melatiah DeCuir, young Melatiah would suffer greatly, and so would his family.


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*The Antique Legacy*

Melatiah DeCuir