The Time has Come part 3 (Mother) The end

I haven’t been home in a while. It still looks the same. The fake facade that everything is bright and beautiful when the beauty is an illusion, hiding all the decay. Anyone who has a heightened sense of smell will it be able to tell death lingers in the air.

I look around and notice that the staff is not doing their normal courtesy bows or acknowledging that I even walked into the home. I could be evil and just kill one of my mother’s half-dead servants. That would announce immediately that I have returned.

I proceeded up the landing and walked towards my mother’s office. Once I made it to the last step, that’s when I felt the metaphysical door slam into my face. The push was so hard I stumbled back several steps. So, my mother has been preparing to go to war with me. I did not think this was going to be an easy walk in the park, but I did not know she would go to the depths she had sunken to, to battle me.

“M o t h e r!”

I cried out the same way I did when I was younger and wanted to please her. I can hear shuffling behind me, and when I turned, there were several of the undead waiting and holding what looked like stakes.

Yes, she was planning for me, but she didn’t understand that my time away was not idle. I went to the first servant that seemed to still have a bloodthirsty streak in them and twisted her head right off her body. Tossing it over the railing, I went to the next, wrenching the stake out of his hand and shoving it in between his eyes until it went out the other side, dripping with blood.

One by one, they all fall dead. I would not sully my fangs with their acrid blood. Turning back around and walking back up the stairs, knowing I would be greeted with that barrier again, I decided to show a little trick up my sleeve.

Just before stepping on the last step, I cut into my wrists, and those drops of blood fell on the last landing. I can feel the weakness in the barrier. I am no fool, and I prepared myself for such tactics. I had a brief fling with the Mystic who taught me how to break down barriers. She didn’t even realize that I was a vampire. Even as we rolled around in the sheets and I brought her countless numbers of orgasmic bliss, she didn’t realize that she was bedding down one of the dead.

The barrier broke and I continued on my walk towards my mother. The door to my left opened. It was my bedroom as a child. It was happy memories and there until she sent him.

“So you have returned? We never did finish our lesson.”

That voice was meant to intimidate me. To make me break and cower back into the shadows. My mother’s enforcer. I turned to him. Instead of going backward, I move forward with determination. Eyes gleaming the same red, the night he took and kept taking my innocence.

I stood before him, and before he could reach a hand to touch my skin, I grabbed his wrists and snapped both hands off his arms and let him drop to the floor. As he screamed and exposed his neck, I grabbed and felt his pulse quickening underneath my lengthening nails.

It is a falsehood that vampires have no pulse or heartbeat. I squeezed until his eyes opened with the knowledge that his death was meted out by the very person he had corrupted. As my nails met resistance, I pulled forward, ripping muscle, sinew, and tendon.

He will not rise. I continued my walk to my mother’s office, and there she sat watching as I entered.

“Nice to see you, daughter. Too bad this is the last time we shall ever see each other again.”

I did not look like my mother. My features were softer, my demeanor invites people, but my eyes, my eyes tell you that I am the daughter of death.

“It is time to say goodbye, mother.”

Realization finally striking accord, she rose from her seat, walked around her desk, and bared her fangs and claws.

We ran out of each other and started slashing, ripping away flesh, hearing gloves of blood hit the floor, hit the wall, hit the desk. Her fangs sink into my shoulder blade, finding their purchase so she can RIP out my jugular. She was too late, though not realizing that might cause her neck to sink into her spine, and was ripping out her spine from her skull.

She released my neck with a cry as I kept pulling her spine out of her back. The succession of power is not beautiful, and her death was anything but beautiful.

As she looked into my eyes with fear and anger, I asked, “Why, mother? Why did you allow those things to be created. It is against our laws.”

With her last thought, she said, “I was tired of waiting for you to come and be the queen.”

I hold my mother’s dead body and drag it and the dead forcer out into the courtyard, then burn them.

Anger seethes through my whole body. Even in death, this woman had her way.