eyes of the seer – prologue

although many of my friends call me “the poet” (meant purely in jest, mind you. i certainly hope i am not that pretentious.), i first started writing prose in the form of my memoirs. i thought i might post some of it here, in the event anyone who visits might wish to read my stories and weigh in with any suggestions, critiques, or merely to enjoy the tale.

i have several stories completed and have been working on cleaning them up a bit. this is the first one, entitled eyes of the seer. the image to the right was painted by the talented christine griffin and accompanies this first work as a cover image of sorts.

thank you for reading.

peter

~

Prologue

You and I have never met. I can promise you this with utmost assurance, for if we had brushed paths, you wouldn’t remember the experience. As such, allow me to introduce myself to you.

My name is Peter Dawes and I am a vampire.

The admission must stir a response. After all, how many times do you have somebody tell you that in such a candid and lucid manner? If you gazed upon me, it might make sense, and as we spoke, you would realize something was different about the man seated before you. The black suit hanging from his slender frame provides a stark contrast against the pale complexion. His mouth can move in conversation without revealing much in the way of teeth and as he spoke, you would notice the formal way he conversed, almost like a man out of place in time.

My apologies for that, by the way. Old habits die hard and after years spent given over to the notion that we immortals – we decadent sophisticates – must sound like relics straight out of the previous century, I have not been able to rid myself of the mannerism.

That isn’t why I asked you here today, though.

I could spend hours telling you of life as a vampire, but rather than bore you with such a discussion, I confess I brought you here to tell you a story. My story. Horribly pretentious of me, isn’t I? I promise, though, I am no ordinary vampire. When I smile wide enough to reveal my fangs, you may think otherwise, but as you’ve studied me, you’ve missed a very crucial feature underneath the short, light brown hair and above the crooked smile.

Do not fret, though. Most people do not know what they should be looking for when they see me. Not many of your kind recognize the bright green eyes or know of their relevance and for very good reason; unique creatures such as I do not wish you to know the relevance. There exists an entire world underneath your noses that you overlook every day and only when the supernatural world falls onto your lap do you know its presence. I was much the same as you a few decades ago; an unsuspecting, unknowing mortal with pale blue eyes instead of the ethereal emerald irises I now possess.

It seems I’ve lived so many lives in my still short tenor on Earth.

This is why I brought you here today. Somebody has to know the truth.

This man sitting before you has held many titles. He has been several people and several things already. There were years when he gazed at you with compassion latent in his stare – before he bartered his life for immortality – and there were years when he beheld you with coldness before he ripped your precious soul from this mortal coil. Saint and sinner. Bastard, friend, and foe. So many lives lived with an eternity lying in wait for many more to emerge. I’ll not linger any longer on riddles; suffice to say there are many layers to this creature who walks within your midst and yet, you rarely cast a second glance his way.

My name is Peter Dawes and this is my story.

It all started with a murder.

Chapter One

~ by peterdawes on July 24, 2008.