Tuesday, September 22, 1722
Even with the coming of daylight, the sun was not allowed to pierce the black clouds that had consumed the sky above for as far as the eye could see. It was as if the darkness of the night before never seemed to end. And as the rain began to fall more furiously down from the sky, this shower sent forth from the heavens to cleanse the hands of the filthy, painting the canopy of this swamp a darkened shade of gray and marking it for destruction, no one could quite grasp the enormity of the power that was tumbling towards them.
The mortals were scurrying about, hiding within their homes of wooden security, praying for their god to protect them from harm and climbing to the highest reaches of his place of worship in the hopes of further being graced by his infinite glory. It was he, their omnipotent god, which they depended upon so blindly, believing only him to be the one that kept them safe, watching over them and turning them always from danger’s path, and never without any true proof that he ever even existed at all. And it was that blind faith that had gotten them through the past seventeen centuries unscathed by the hands of time, with even more that had carried them through the millennia before that. So it would surely carry them through this next danger without fail. These witches, however, they had not been handed such luck throughout the ages.
These witches had been all but forgotten by the hands of fate, their extinction always wavering on but a few thousand of them, and now there were hardly thirteen hundred of them left upon the Earth, all of them fighting for survival as best they could. But none of them were prepared for what this storm would bring… no one except the natives of the land.
Those natives had survived storms like this for ages here, or at least the few hundred years I’ve heard them talk about. In all honesty, though, I’m still not quite sure how old this place really is yet. It can be deceiving at times. When in one section it would seem to be newly created sediment, all around it is clearly of ancient times. But either way, the survival of these witches would depend on those that knew the dangers of a storm like this. As for me… it’s getting a bit wet to be writing, so… I’ll go ahead and keep these pages dry while you go and turn to the next one, if, that is, there is even a ‘you’ out there to do so. If not, it seems I may be doing all of this research for nothing. Hopefully, though, that is not so.
This research is very important, and the entire future will depend on the growth of this vampire. And when once I was forced to thwart his efforts of conquest, now I am more than eager to watch his development. When before there was only one outcome, time has since created more options, and whichever path he chooses, so will the future be dictated by it.
Vampire Storm (Volume 1 : The Hurricane Journals) Page 13