Sorrow

Sorrow
Sorrow in true form

Sunday, July 31, 2011

"The Forgotten Son" Prologe

I was deep in a state of sleeping where I was awake and knew what was happening but I bloked it all out. I had spent the last four hundred and eleven years locked away in cell after cell, chain after chain, cage after cage. I had been beaten, choked, burned, cut, and all out torture for years apon years. When it all frist started I just kept asking my former Brothers why I was being torture, I ask them why I was being locked in the dungeons of the castle that was my home for so many years. I asked my former Brothers, my former comrades, and former friends why? What had I done? For what was I being acused of? They never replyed. All they ever said was "You are no brother of mine!" I was confused and couldn't contemplate the reasons why I would desreve the punishment I was reseiving. Iit was always the same, the jailers would come and get me (I was the only vampire prisoner within the four square mile underground dongeon. I was the only prisoner that would look the gaurds in the eyes. Everyone else had been broken with pain and torment, but I had been trained to withstand pain and suffering). I would walk to the spot I knew so well, the whiping post. I would take off the sack cloths that the prisoners wore. I would stand with my back against the pole they use to tie pepole up. I would cross my wrists over my head so they could be tied. I had done this hundreds of times and everytime I just stood there being wiped not feeling anything but numbness. I didn't hear anything or feel anything, yet I knew every detail of the leather wipe with the five thin razer sharp blades weaving around the whip so that is truned as it cut you. Making the blades go deeper into my flesh then they where long. But at the same time I didn't even know they were there, everything was just a haze of never ending torture. I knew that my former Brothers could not kill me because the the Father would know I died. He could sense all of us. Many times I wondered why he couldn't sense that I was down deep in his own dungeons for all those years waiting for him to find me. I knew that if I had done something wrong I would have been taken to him for jugdement. I knew that if I was guilty for my crimes that I would be killed by my Father, the one who had made me a vampire. The one who had trained me and tought me everything I knew. He would have killed me with a honest death as all of his warriors desevered, even if they had betryed the Sons of Dracula and betryed thier own Father Count Dracula. Because of this I knew I had done nothing wrong so I chose not to speak for more then a hundred years. All that time I didn't utter a single word not to them or my self. I was a battle hardened vampire warrior I knew no fear, I knew no pain. That was how all Sons of Dracula lived. They would fall dead on the battle field protecting their Father's land and name. They would do so without ever feeling sorry for themselfs. The only thing I feared was spending forever locked in the dungeons of my great Father's castle alone with nothing but the haze of a bladed whip and the pethetic mortals screaming around me. I was afraid that even with all the screaming around me I would hear nothing but the ringing sound of silence forever in my ears. I had been tortured for more then four hundred years yet I was never ask a single question, just tortured varis ways.

Writen by Nathan L. Koontx

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