It was a cold and crisp November morning. There was a calm breeze about us, and the leaves crackled beneath your feet as you walked along the deserted paths down by the old Indian caves. There was a creek that passed through the valley into the woods and beyond that there were some abandoned houses. There used to be a very productive farm back there. That was in the early 1500's, before the accident. One day something unspeakable happened and after that business slowly began to deteriorate until there was nothing left. No one really knows what happened that day, but there were stories about the strange events that happened the following weeks before the incident. I was one of the "lucky" few to come out "alive", if that is what you classify it as. For me, this has been an eternal hell. Living one lifetime after another, watching the ones that I love die before me and I continue to stay young, never changing. This lifetime has meant nothing to me. My "life" as some may call it has become nothing. I hide in the darkness so that no one can see me. I feed off the creatures that roam the night, deep in the wood, in the dark, in the cold, and in the rain, sleet, or snow. I am here to tell you about the "truth" of those strange events and the "accident" that happened that fateful day in Noveber. There's more to the story than meets the eye, let alone touches the soul. I no longer have a soul. I no longer live. I no longer feel. I am no longer human. I am not good, nor am I bad. I lead a life in the dark, never knowing who I am or where I am going. I meet so many people it's hard to remember them all. I spend my nights in the local taverns and I am rumored to be the ghost of a dead man because so many have seen me in the streets late at night before the dawning of the sun. I can never set foot on the land that once belonged to me. I can not let my own family know who I am. No one knows me, but I know everyone and every little detail of their lives, their past, and their present. I know the descendents of my friends and of my foe from when things weren't so busy. This world that you live in now is hectic. I can hardly hear myself think. I am the last of my kind and I so wish to die, but I can not. Not only am I the mythological creature of the night, but I am damned as well, to roam until my soul can be released from the flames of hell and I then can reunite with my family and take my place in heaven with them. I miss my wife, she was the light that guided me in the dark, she was the one who knew me like no other. I miss my children. I had three sons and one daughter. They were the joy of my life, my reason for living, for breathing, for caring, and for not giving in and giving up when the world looked so sad and my pain hurt so bad. My daughter she had drowned in a pond not far from the farmhouse. We had searched for days and never found her. I was hunting in the woods and she came to bring me my dinner because I planned on staying in the woods until I had something to bring home. When she finally found me I scorned her and I sent her back home. It was December 17, 1508. It got dark earlier and the sun was almost settled beyond the horizon when I sent her on her way. I shouldv'e let her stay with me until I went home. It was snowing that night and it was awfully cold and dreary. The fog had settled early and there was no way of telling where you were or where you were going. I could hear her faint screams in the night, but I just thought it was the wind howling. Her echoing voice still peirces my ears at night when I am alone. Her little painful cries for help, that I never answered.She was a beautiful child. She was only about nine years old when her life came to an abrupt end.Her name was Lisa. Lisa had gorgeous long, blonde hair that curled at the tips, mezmorizing blue eyes, and skin so soft and pale she almost looked like an angel. My baby girl is an angel now and it is all my fault. My wife and I searched for her for so long and when we finally relized she was gone the life was sucked from my wife and she became utterly depressed. I too became overwhelmed with sorrow. We knew somehow that she had drowned. She never learned to swim because she feared the water so much. I told her once that if she ever got lost listen for the trickling sounds of the creek, but with how cold it was and the snow, you couldn't tell where the pond was. So we figured she must've walked out onto the thin ice, unknowingly and fell through. My wife crushed by this began going to the pond everyday and throwing Lisa's fvorite flowers upon the water to pay tribute to our beloved little girl. My wife even once screamed at the pond " Big fish, Little fish in the water, Give me back my daughter!" My wife went terribly insane and she hung herself one day when I was away working at the farm. When I came home I found her cold, limp, dead body hanging from a tree by the pond. She must not have been able to bear the pain and decided to join her baby in death, leaving our three sons and myself behind. I became an alchoholic after that. After work I would spend my nights in the local taverns drinking my myself into oblivion in hopes that maybe one day soon I would die. There is one more minor detail I didn't mention about my wife's untimely death, because she had killed herself she was denied her last rite's at her time of burial. That hurt me so much to know that she could not surpass the gates of heaven, but spend her eternity alone in hell without her beloved Lisa. After I became an alcoholic I began to neglect my sons and I never knew what became of them because I left them alone without a father to show them the way, like my precious Margaret did for me. God, I miss my wife so much. Margaret, I need you! Oh God, Margaret, Why did you have to leave me alone? Why did you leave me to whither in my sorrows? Why? God damn it! Margaret....

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