Based partly on the life of Bartholomew Collins Morris, from his diaries we read - Long ago I had been promised not to be changed, to stay as I was but these creatures, these human dogs had forced the hand of fate and now I am a creature of the night, of darkness, of death.
Before I had only taken for delight, for my amusement, alone did I kill? I could not create life; I could not see past the shadows of death, I was not lost to my soulless existence, no, I was reminded of it with every rising of the sun.
It was beginning, pushed from a bridge upon the rocks, my life would have ended as any other. Fortunately for me a creature of the night had noticed my fall. Was it aide he provided or had he simply taken advantage of me because he could? I would have died, but wouldn't that have been better? Wouldn't that have been the justice of life? To find death and embrace it. Not I. I refused to die, to give in, to