Life's Journey
Good evening.
For the better part of a week I've done some thinking about a topic of interest to present to you and I even went so far as to list a few. But I decided to do what I generally do so I'll go with my gut and just let the subject rise from my thoughts, and go from there. But first, let me introduce myself.
My name is Lucas. I was born in the southern United States; the first of two children, and the only son. Both my parents were born of wealth and privilege and their standing in their community was more important to them than the hands-on rearing of their son and daughter. For all practical purposes my sister and I were considered privileged brats who had everything we could possibly desire at our beck and call. Most assuredly there is truth in that if you consider privilege as having everything except our parents love and participation in our lives. Some of you might even think I have no reason to complain for what I lacked. I don't complain, never have. I'm just stating facts.
Early on, somewhere around adolescence, I figured out that no matter what I did or how hard I tried I wasn't going to win my parents love and least of all, my father's attention or approval. He was very busy bolstering the family name, adding to the family wealth, and proving himself to be a charitable philanthropist. Oh yeah, he had time for putting a nice face on the organizations that provided for underprivileged kids but he didn't have time for his own. My mother was his perfect counterpart; regal baring, unyielding in her efforts as a society maven who ran her precious estate and our lives through hired staff.
My sister and I attended private schools where we were expected to behave according to the rules of our society. If you've never had a peek into that sort of existence consider yourself blessed. Our days were filled with maintaining excellent grades, learning social skills geared to our standing, and hob-nobbing with the rest of the wealthy kids; most of whom were snobish brats who looked down their noses at the less fortunate.
By the age of fifteen I'd been kicked out of more private schools than I care to remember. The reason was attitude, attitude, attitude and the unwillingness to behave as was expected of me. My sister fared no better but she sought attention in different ways than me. She was wild, began doing drugs at the age of fourteen; sleeping around about the same time; skipping classes and going for joy rides with her flavor of the moment, sneaking out at night, and things of that nature. While she and I were close as youngsters, we grew further and further apart in our teens. I had reasons for my willfulness and I got what I wanted when the time came that no private school would take me. I was placed in public school. My sister remained in private school so we grew even further apart.
During my senior year, even though I'd settled down and was keeping my nose clean, our parents had all but washed their hands of me. But they dealt with my sister as if she would eventually straighten up and fall in with their plans. My mother wanted her daughter to be like her; the perfect little clone, so she kept trying to win her over by giving her everything she demanded. On her sixteenth birthday she was given a fast and flashy sports car. To this day my mother won't admit that she made a disastrous mistake. My sister was given a large party at home, unchaperoned, and both she and boyfriend had been drinking and doing drugs. They took off in her new car with my sister at the wheel and less than half an hour later she hit a tree at excessive speed, and the car careened off the tree and flipped into a canal. The boy died on impact and my sister drowned. When what was left of the car was dragged out of the water they were both still strapped into their seat-belts. Some birthday.
I'd gone out that evening and on the way home I came up on the accident. I got out to see what was going on about the time they were dragging the car from the canal, and it was then I discovered what had happened. My beautiful sister's face was unrecognizable but I recognized what was left of the car. A policeman followed me home and waited for nearly an hour before I was able to locate my parents who were attending the theater. When they arrived home my father lit into me and blamed me for all that had happened to my sister; from the time we were kids to then. My mother was equally angry. She told me I should have been there and that my sister was my responsibility. I walked away from them that night and never looked back.
I went to a friend's home where I was warmly welcomed by his parents and given a place to stay. I stayed for six months, the time it took to complete my senior year. In those six months I learned what a real family was; parents who loved their son and kept a firm hand on him, respected him, and taught him all that he needed to know to make a good life for himself. They gave me the same and when we graduated they feted both of us with a party that was well chaperoned. The following day my friend and I were preparing to enlist in the Air Force when my father showed up, unannounced. He was livid that I would "do something as stupid...", something not befitting the family name. Never mind that I'd had no contact with him during those six months, he just expected me to bend to his wishes that I enter the university of his choice and become an attorney like him. I let him have his say then I did what I'd always wanted to do; plowed my fist into his face then told him how it shamed me to carry his blood in my veins.
I walked away from him the second and final time. I spent eight years in the Air Force, got my degree courtesy of Uncle Sam, and had a war under my belt to boot. I was twenty-six when I opted out of re-enlistment and went in search of a career in business. The point of telling you all of this is as follows.
First and foremost, wealth and privilege wasn't a blessing in my case. It set me up for my rebellious years, and I'll be the first to say I made a good job of that. It also taught me that regardless of the material things you have, you don't always have the more important things a youngster needs; love, and confimation of your worth. I was blessed to have spent a short time with a remarkable family who gave me those things, but even that couldn't provide me with protection against the unknown.
I was thirty years old and doing well in the business world of upscale hotels when the unexpected caught me, unaware. I'd never had any interest in marriage until I met a woman who was the daughter of a prominent hotel owner whom I admired for his business savvy. He'd introduced us and within a few months I believed her to be a kind and caring individual who hadn't been ruined by her social position. It was what I didn't know about her that changed my life, forever.
One evening she held a get-together in her home for a few of her friends she wanted me to meet. Together with three other couples we enjoyed and excellent meal, good conversation, and then we retired to the living room for a brandy. I was half-way through my first drink when I suddenly became violently ill. Things got fuzzy after that and all I remembered the following morning was being sick and waking up in her bedroom. I recovered fairly quickly but for the next week or so I wasn't my usual self and I kept having vague dreams I couldn't quite remember. What little I could remember made no sense to me but I shrugged it off and got on with my business; had no idea I'd been drugged.
A week later I was again invited to her home and with the impression it would be an evening for two, I accepted. The evening progressed well until I suddenly became ill again around 11:00 p.m. But this time I didn't pass out; in fact lived through a terrifying ordeal, where I was completely at the mercy of one whom I thought was an uninvited guest who entered the premises without her knowledge. I couldn't have been more wrong. She'd sold me out long before that night, lured me into her trap. She owed a debt and used me as payment.
I am Vampyre, and only in the past ten years have I managed to come to terms with this life. As you can see, wealth and privilege didn't smooth my way during my youth, nor did it provide protection against the seemingly impossible. I was not purposely made what I am, but savagely attacked for sport and left for dead. Yet, here I am. I have wealth beyond your imagining but you have what is forever lost to me; humanity. I'm not ashamed to say that I've settled old scores; first, for my sister and then for me.
So when you think you have it so bad, be careful what you wish for. Lucas.
For the better part of a week I've done some thinking about a topic of interest to present to you and I even went so far as to list a few. But I decided to do what I generally do so I'll go with my gut and just let the subject rise from my thoughts, and go from there. But first, let me introduce myself.
My name is Lucas. I was born in the southern United States; the first of two children, and the only son. Both my parents were born of wealth and privilege and their standing in their community was more important to them than the hands-on rearing of their son and daughter. For all practical purposes my sister and I were considered privileged brats who had everything we could possibly desire at our beck and call. Most assuredly there is truth in that if you consider privilege as having everything except our parents love and participation in our lives. Some of you might even think I have no reason to complain for what I lacked. I don't complain, never have. I'm just stating facts.
Early on, somewhere around adolescence, I figured out that no matter what I did or how hard I tried I wasn't going to win my parents love and least of all, my father's attention or approval. He was very busy bolstering the family name, adding to the family wealth, and proving himself to be a charitable philanthropist. Oh yeah, he had time for putting a nice face on the organizations that provided for underprivileged kids but he didn't have time for his own. My mother was his perfect counterpart; regal baring, unyielding in her efforts as a society maven who ran her precious estate and our lives through hired staff.
My sister and I attended private schools where we were expected to behave according to the rules of our society. If you've never had a peek into that sort of existence consider yourself blessed. Our days were filled with maintaining excellent grades, learning social skills geared to our standing, and hob-nobbing with the rest of the wealthy kids; most of whom were snobish brats who looked down their noses at the less fortunate.
By the age of fifteen I'd been kicked out of more private schools than I care to remember. The reason was attitude, attitude, attitude and the unwillingness to behave as was expected of me. My sister fared no better but she sought attention in different ways than me. She was wild, began doing drugs at the age of fourteen; sleeping around about the same time; skipping classes and going for joy rides with her flavor of the moment, sneaking out at night, and things of that nature. While she and I were close as youngsters, we grew further and further apart in our teens. I had reasons for my willfulness and I got what I wanted when the time came that no private school would take me. I was placed in public school. My sister remained in private school so we grew even further apart.
During my senior year, even though I'd settled down and was keeping my nose clean, our parents had all but washed their hands of me. But they dealt with my sister as if she would eventually straighten up and fall in with their plans. My mother wanted her daughter to be like her; the perfect little clone, so she kept trying to win her over by giving her everything she demanded. On her sixteenth birthday she was given a fast and flashy sports car. To this day my mother won't admit that she made a disastrous mistake. My sister was given a large party at home, unchaperoned, and both she and boyfriend had been drinking and doing drugs. They took off in her new car with my sister at the wheel and less than half an hour later she hit a tree at excessive speed, and the car careened off the tree and flipped into a canal. The boy died on impact and my sister drowned. When what was left of the car was dragged out of the water they were both still strapped into their seat-belts. Some birthday.
I'd gone out that evening and on the way home I came up on the accident. I got out to see what was going on about the time they were dragging the car from the canal, and it was then I discovered what had happened. My beautiful sister's face was unrecognizable but I recognized what was left of the car. A policeman followed me home and waited for nearly an hour before I was able to locate my parents who were attending the theater. When they arrived home my father lit into me and blamed me for all that had happened to my sister; from the time we were kids to then. My mother was equally angry. She told me I should have been there and that my sister was my responsibility. I walked away from them that night and never looked back.
I went to a friend's home where I was warmly welcomed by his parents and given a place to stay. I stayed for six months, the time it took to complete my senior year. In those six months I learned what a real family was; parents who loved their son and kept a firm hand on him, respected him, and taught him all that he needed to know to make a good life for himself. They gave me the same and when we graduated they feted both of us with a party that was well chaperoned. The following day my friend and I were preparing to enlist in the Air Force when my father showed up, unannounced. He was livid that I would "do something as stupid...", something not befitting the family name. Never mind that I'd had no contact with him during those six months, he just expected me to bend to his wishes that I enter the university of his choice and become an attorney like him. I let him have his say then I did what I'd always wanted to do; plowed my fist into his face then told him how it shamed me to carry his blood in my veins.
I walked away from him the second and final time. I spent eight years in the Air Force, got my degree courtesy of Uncle Sam, and had a war under my belt to boot. I was twenty-six when I opted out of re-enlistment and went in search of a career in business. The point of telling you all of this is as follows.
First and foremost, wealth and privilege wasn't a blessing in my case. It set me up for my rebellious years, and I'll be the first to say I made a good job of that. It also taught me that regardless of the material things you have, you don't always have the more important things a youngster needs; love, and confimation of your worth. I was blessed to have spent a short time with a remarkable family who gave me those things, but even that couldn't provide me with protection against the unknown.
I was thirty years old and doing well in the business world of upscale hotels when the unexpected caught me, unaware. I'd never had any interest in marriage until I met a woman who was the daughter of a prominent hotel owner whom I admired for his business savvy. He'd introduced us and within a few months I believed her to be a kind and caring individual who hadn't been ruined by her social position. It was what I didn't know about her that changed my life, forever.
One evening she held a get-together in her home for a few of her friends she wanted me to meet. Together with three other couples we enjoyed and excellent meal, good conversation, and then we retired to the living room for a brandy. I was half-way through my first drink when I suddenly became violently ill. Things got fuzzy after that and all I remembered the following morning was being sick and waking up in her bedroom. I recovered fairly quickly but for the next week or so I wasn't my usual self and I kept having vague dreams I couldn't quite remember. What little I could remember made no sense to me but I shrugged it off and got on with my business; had no idea I'd been drugged.
A week later I was again invited to her home and with the impression it would be an evening for two, I accepted. The evening progressed well until I suddenly became ill again around 11:00 p.m. But this time I didn't pass out; in fact lived through a terrifying ordeal, where I was completely at the mercy of one whom I thought was an uninvited guest who entered the premises without her knowledge. I couldn't have been more wrong. She'd sold me out long before that night, lured me into her trap. She owed a debt and used me as payment.
I am Vampyre, and only in the past ten years have I managed to come to terms with this life. As you can see, wealth and privilege didn't smooth my way during my youth, nor did it provide protection against the seemingly impossible. I was not purposely made what I am, but savagely attacked for sport and left for dead. Yet, here I am. I have wealth beyond your imagining but you have what is forever lost to me; humanity. I'm not ashamed to say that I've settled old scores; first, for my sister and then for me.
So when you think you have it so bad, be careful what you wish for. Lucas.
posted by Dreamteller at
10:30 AM
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