FUENTE


I want to share you the tale that gives name to a book of stories that I published with the editorial "Project Expressions" of @joseph1956 a few years ago. I shared it in six chapters, I hope you like it.


CHAPTER I "THE START"


I had finished reading the last chapter of Amanecer, the most recent novel in the successful vampire saga written by Stephanie Meyer (I had downloaded it in pdf format from www.scribd.com) and sighed. I had caught the action, the emotion, the romanticism, the beauty of the plot. I also had a story to tell, just that ...


...there were two fundamental differences. The first: I was not a writer. The second: my story was true ...


Vampiric stories were not now remote (Transylvania). I had followed with my heart the odyssey of Bella and her friends, had traveled with them from Alaska to the Amazon, Canada, Italy, even the same and very sunny Phoenix ...
And I was here, in my homeland, in Caracas, the sunny capital of Venezuela, knowing that sunlight really was not an impediment to the development of that kind of ... Lives? Species?


My family had dragged a curse for generations ... Who, in Venezuela, had not heard about witches? Not those that fly on brooms but those black birds, big, ugly, that fall at night on the roofs to spy on what is spoken in the houses, which draw (that is, bring bad luck) those houses, which startle and make mourn babies and that the simple incantation of a - "Come tomorrow and I'll give you salt" appear the next day early in the morning (and in human form) requesting the aforementioned ingredient.


Who, in Venezuela, had not heard or lived a close experience with goblins, appeared, burials of morocotas (old gold coins of 20 Dollars of the United States of America, they circulated freely in Venezuela a large part of the 19th century ), charms?


My uncle Adriano had a friend who lived in El Valle. A sister of her claimed to live maritally with a charm under the current of a river, in a place full of precious stones, with serpents rolled up like seats. Place that could not be accessed if it was reached with matches or salt. One day she came to visit her sister who, incredulous of her story, secretly placed a box of matches in her wallet. The sister left, several hours later came back crying desperate for not being able to find the access portal. My uncle's friend confessed her action. The matchbox was removed from the wallet and her sister, disgusted, left ... to never return.


However ... there were no stories about vampires in Venezuela.
(Weren't there?) Well, they were not as frequent or popular. I could remember as a child a neighbor telling my mother about a certain president of our country whose mandate disappeared many children who would serve as food for he because he was ... vampire. I remember that dad intervened saying that he was a Brazilian millionaire who had been diagnosed with leprosy and would have been guaranteed a cure if he bathed in young blood. According to my father, it was this man who was behind those disappearances. I remember listening to my mom telling about a worker of the farm where she was born that went to the slaughterhouse to take freshly slaughtered cattle a glass of fresh blood. According to mom, this man was strong as a bull.
Yes, those were ... legends, or as my grandmother used to say, road stories that served to divert attention from real cases. They served to divert attention from ... *us, the venezuelan vampires.


Some points of the Twilightsaga were true. (Very few, actually, simple coincidence) Others very (too) far from the true.
In my family ... everything had started several generations ago, in Barlovento (burning and drum land). It began with a slip of my great-great-grandfather (He was spanish, a native of the Canary Islands) with the mulatto daughter of a worker from the cocoa farm "Las Niñas" ("The Girls")in Caucagua. (Treasury of which he was the administrator). The injured girl revealed the identity of the guilty to her mother who cursed my great-great-grandfather and buried a Black Magic job whose effects would suffer all the women in his family.


My great-great-grandfather saw himself leaving the hacienda overnight with his wife, his eight children and going to Caracas on foot, on horseback and on a donkey. Crossing seven river passes to finally reach the Capital "with one hand in front and one behind" (it is said of who is very poor) after having swum in abundance. It was there that he began his ordeal, where he was forced to witness the distortion of his five girls. Why this cruelty with us before an eminently male guilt? I do not know. I never understood.


I only know that of the eight children of my great-great-grandfather five were females. Five beings marked by the fatality ... they and their descendants ... forever.
I had started to write my reflections, but I regretted it, I let go of the pen ...
What would I achieve with it? The readers would not believe me. And if someone did ... they could not help me.
No, nobody would ever change things. I was condemned ... forever. Twilight was another world. An unreal world in which vampires and humans could create bonds of friendship and love. A fascinating novel, but a novel at last.
I went down to the basement, to my pantry. I pulled the syringe out of my pocket and approached the young woman who looked at me with terrified eyes as always, like every week for the past two years.
I extracted my weekly ration from her damaged veins.


Two more months she would live, at most, then I would have to replace her. Go hunting. Routine.
As her blood entered my body renewing my energy I had a thought of resentment toward that great-great-grandfather whose guilt he was at fault for. Whose guilt made me a murderer without an alternative. And I envied those fictitious Cullen that could survive only with animal blood.
I went to bed ( I am a vampire but I must sleep) but not before scheduling the time at which the alarm would sound. The next day, Monday, I should not miss work.
I smiled with bitter irony, as a shop assistant, the next day I would sell vampiric novels to dozens of clients. Clients that when leaving with the fashion book in their hands would never suspect that they had been dispatched ... a true vampire.

DO NOT MISS THE CHAPTER 2: "THE ENCOUNTER" WHERE ZAHIDY KNOWS AN ENIGMATIC CAPABLE CHARACTER TO CONVERT HER WITH HIS MAGICAL POWERS IN A NORMAL HUMAN BEING.
WILL HER CONVINCE HIM TO DO IT?