If you have received this letter, it means I am now dead and leaving to you the entire history of my life. It started around 3,000 years ago in Graecia which you know now as Greece. I was a girl then and lived with my adoring mother and father: in a beautiful villa overlooking a cliff top. Every morning the ocean waves sprayed greetings on the cliff face and licked salt into my face. I loved being awoken every morning by those greetings of the waves and the faint Hum-Buzz of the bees making their early morning trips to the Rose-bushes. This morning was different however, something felt off. I awoke to a strange noise; it started as a reverberating noise in the deepest pits of my ear and curled like a snake as it left. The ocean was more violent then usual, sending thunderous echoes throughout the cliff, and the clouds seemed to be creating violent messages. The sky was also the colour of old cat vomit: a sickly mauve brown with ink splatters. I walked slowly from my room and put on my chiton. The beautiful red linen hung around my shoulders in a sweeping curtain manner, and the gold flecks embroidered into the fabric caught every fleck of light and looked like dancing fireflies echoed onto my skin. The giant gold button securing my chiton was worn and had a faded quality to it: a gold coin rubbed too many times for good luck. The rest of the chiton was coloured like marble and had small purple tendrils battling for space and dominance.

I awoke in a strange place; it was coved and domed in a dark stony cavern. I've had this dream many times, and everytime I'm transported, it feels like a candle wick getting brighter. This time was different however, I heard something calling my name. It was a faint whispering over and over in my heart, and the soft soil underneath felt all too real. The candle wick got brighter and the scene was more realized. The domed ceilings were skulls galore, the bones puckered were lips and eyes once were. They had funny drawings on them: little black figures distorted by age and much rubbing. It was a cascade of burnt looking bone, mixtures of grotesque browns with the most egg-shell white. As I moved further in, the ground began to have some type of flooring. Crude stones pushed carelessly together like entangled lovers and wood piled in between. It looked a violent imitation of peristyle with its roughly dug domed ceilings. There were also smashed tables and chairs, completely separated from their joints resembling pirate limbs. Each table had the remnants of meat sucked dry and deflated like an empty bladder. I heard the voice again, and my feet moved to follow. It was a soft bell jingling in my ears and traveling throughout my body. I came to a small chamber off to the side with wood burning on the wall and spaced in weird intervals. The voice called to me again; it sounded like honeysuckle to my ears. I could no longer move and was being kept in place. I felt a commanding grip on my neck and the voice again.

“You are here for a greater purpose, to become a living God amongst men.”

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It was many voices and languages together at once, all converging into one yet making sense to me. Language seemed to be no obstacle to this strange being. Each syllable rolled effortlessly from its mouth and had no accent or unique pattern to it. All light was taken from the place, one by one in a repetitive sequence like the twinkling stars exploding one by one. My vision began to obscure, and I was taken back to my home. I was looking at it from above as a weightless bird soaring free through every room and weaving past the peristyle with its luscious blooming plants and towering columns. I saw the child I once was living her life peacefully. I was feeling warmth from the love of the sun, all other ages, and the people I've been, at once, carrying out the task of growing old and living. How strange to be watching myself while also being me, a private spectator in the ceiling and sky.

Suddenly a strange combination of scarlet and dirty red began to fill the scene; something was rippling deep within. The drum of my heart was beating furiously, it all began to fade and mix into a strange vision. Beasts were watching me from the shadows, waiting to attack. I felt an urgency to flee from my home. Safety no longer washed its soft silks and warm colours over me, and my home was disappearing from view. That was when I felt it, the stinging sensation in my neck, the sweetness of the breath, and the language from the being behind me. It filled my neck with both death and the need to survive. A searing hot flash was discombobulating my surroundings and my need to stay on two feet. I felt my fingers and hands start to go limp and become sturdy like tree trunks. My legs were turning into marble. My childhome came back to me in the fumes of bittersweetness and was quickly swept away, a fleeting memory falling through my grasp.

The pain continued and began to become all I knew and wanted, giving me the force I now needed to continue the beat of the drums in my heart. Crashing and tumbling deep within, ebbing and flowing through all my body. The web connected to my heart and brain responding also with pinpricks to my skin and warm chills. The wick began to burn like angels descending from heaven, and my home and memories were washed over me continually in deep and bright hues. I was rooted in place while my limbs felt like they were descending in the sky, unable to reach out. I was back in my home, repeating the events of this morning, and then the candle wick went out.

That is all I remember before my turning and what made me who I am. Before I continue on with the story, I must tell you my name for formalities. I am known currently as Elateia, but I have been known as many names and lived many lives. I do not remember the name of the vulgar creature who bit me, but I remember the feeling. It was as if everything at once was taken into me and flowed through me. Every colour shone through my veins and illuminated my skin; every sound passed through me and entered in a way I never experienced before. It was every memory, every thought gliding along and wrapping me up in its sweet embrace like honeydew ripening a rose, but then another sensation came: a scorching, skin cracking sensation that mixed into the concoction and made it bitter sweet. That is how I became a vampire.