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truevrykolakas (193482)

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Name:

Francis Catallioto

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"I've slept so long without you
It's tearing me apart too
How'd it get this far
Playing games with this old heart
I've killed a million petty souls
But I couldn't kill you
I've slept so long without you."

Memoirs of a Madman

My story. Over three hundred years, I can barely remember it myself. I was born in England, Devonshire- when it used to be the country. That was 1707. I had a younger brother and sister, good father, lovely mother. My sister and my mother had such red hair, and such fair skin. My father, brother, and myself were tall, straight nosed and brown haired. We weren't wealthy, but weren't poor either. We had our own comfortable existence. I stayed with my parents as my siblings married off. They had families of their own, and I continued to take care of Mother and Father. Mother died first, at forty-nine. Father followed a year later at fifty-six. I'd always felt different, and as time passed, and I did not age... I began to understand. My sister, Catherine, passed away at thirty-six. I was fifty at the time, and still looked seventeen. She was buried next to my mother, Elizabeth. My brother, James, lived to a ripe ninety-two years of age. So at ninety-four, I buried him next to Edward, my father. I stayed in our family home for the years to come, but the longer I stayed, the less anyone wanted anything to do with me.

In eighteen hundred, I made the journey to America. I was more than well educated, and decided that I would inject my knowledge into teaching. It took time to settle in, and become commonly known as a scholar. But by eighteen-sixteen, I had my own school house with my room above it. I enjoyed it there in the southern states. But all things must come to an end, the civil war came in like a whirlwind and blew down my established life. I moved on then, to the south of France for two years, and finally back to England. I had seen what war did to men and to their families. And I had been untouched by it's blows. I, looking to be a man of twenty, joined the Holy Roman priesthood. During years of service to god, I became Father Francis. I was set deep into my ways, and saw many things that no man would have dreamed. The deeper one went into the church, the more of it's secrets you were burdened with. But these men did not see my lack of aging as a sin, they saw it a purity. Because I was so utterly devote in my faith, they believed the lord granted my eternal youth. I became well known for it within the covenant of the church.

I watched man grow. Watched how the world changed as if over night. It seemed like just a few years ago, there were drawn carriages, and now there were only cars, busses, trains, steel ships. I avoided the first world war all together, spent my time traveling the world, bringing the word of god with me. It was during world war two, that the mission told me to do what I could. I was sent with American troops, helping where I could, giving final rites to those who lay forgotten in trenches, and the open ground left behind, war ravaged. This war was far worse than any I had seen, and my faith began to dwindle. It was in nineteen forty-nine, four years after world war two's end, that I found myself in Egypt. Still firmly a man of the cloth, investigating rumors of possession and unholy churches. What I found on the outskirts of Cairo, were people without faith. Poor and dying, desperate for anything. For rain, for food, for a breeze. The well water was making them sick, causing boils and abrasions. Death. The entire village reeked of death. But their church was far worse. Jesus hung from an upside-down cross, animal bodies at the alter, black candles with a pure blue frame. It was my second day there, that the people snapped. The village went wild, brutally murdering each other, and the entire mission. I had ran to the church as fire blazed throughout the village that evening, praying for an answer. Praying for help. It was there they found me, and I was hung in place of the cross. My body cut loose a day and a half later, left to rot with the animals.

I woke that night. With a hunger that pained me to the very core of my being. In that moment, I knew how the village had felt. Hunger could make you go insane. As I made my way through the village, stepping over bodies and mice. I threw away my cross. What kind of god would allow this to happen? Why would god continue to allow the innocent to suffer so terribly. There was one answer to that, one that I should have seen sooner. There is no god. That night I fed for the first time, on what was left of that village. The men and women who had so quickly killed each other, trembled in my wake. As the sun rose, I hid. I did not know why at the time, only that I must. I turned my back from the light then. And I have never looked back.

As the Curtain Falls

Just to get this out of the way for those who are human, or just stupid. I was born an immortal. Though not your "Highlander" sort of immortal. How do I put this simply. Look at us like... gremlins... Only better looking. In cases of murder or suicide, we become something entirely different. I was murdered pretty brutally (In my opinion), and when I came back, I was reborn. The moment I was out of the church, I threw my cross away. I knew I was a vampire then. Because I fed on what was left of the village, I was overwhelmed with blood lust. I didn't understand at first, why my body avoided the light so, but I quickly learned. I embrace my vampirism. I enjoy it. And I absolutely hate religion. I was reborn into hatred for "God". If you know... you believe that there is one. Bullocks if you ask me.

The Face Behind the Mask

I've gotten a very dark personality over time. I'm a bit of a loner, I don't trust to connect with anyone anymore. I am a killer, and don't think twice about going through with it. I enjoy the blood and gore that come with the deaths I'm involved with. But at the same time, I'm not completely evil. I mean, really, who thinks they are. No matter what you do, or who you are- no one really thinks they're a bad person. Good and evil don't exist, they have no basis in reality. They're just imaginary friends. When it comes down to it, I wouldn't want to see the world over-ridden with demons and ghoulies. That's would just be annoying. I kill to survive, just like a human kills a cow for their burger. It's very much that same, therefore I see no fault in it. Human are cattle. They just don't want to admit something might be higher on the food chain than they are.

Disclaimer

I'm not James D'Arcy, and I don't own him. Sadly... >.> Francis is in my head, I do not control him, and his views and beliefs do not always reflect my own. I do own him, however. You may not have him. The graphics and icons on this journal were made my me. Do not steal them. If you do, I will be forced to send Bishop to horribly murder you. He'll enjoy that.

© 2000-2008 Justin Barrette

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