Chapter 2

~Morgan Vales~

In the heart of that wilderness, the air hung heavy with the scent of rain, as if nature itself held its breath. My father stirred from slumber, surrounded by fellow travelers wrapped in the peaceful embrace of sleep. The sky crackled with lightning, and raindrops danced upon the leaves.

A sense of unease crawled up his spine as he realized my mother's absence among the dozing companions. Panic surged within him, propelling him upright. "Dear!" His voice echoed through the woods, a futile call amidst the downpour.

Frantic steps trampled the wet leaves and snapped twigs, his heart pounding in rhythm with the thunder overhead. She was nowhere to be found. Confusion etched lines upon his face, mirroring the chaos of the storm around him. The search began, an anguished quest through the relentless rain and flashing lightning.

The night wore on, each passing moment escalating his desperation. Dawn's faint light barely pierced the thick canopy as he stumbled upon a tree that seemed to beckon him. And there, suspended in a macabre silence, hung my mother.

A strangled cry tore from his throat. Shock rendered him motionless, but slowly, he edged closer, his gaze fixed in disbelief upon her lifeless form. Dropping to his knees, he watched, tears mingling with the rain as an unbearable sorrow consumed him.

Then, a miracle amidst the tragedy—a tiny bundle slipped from my mother's embrace, the embodiment of new life amid death's grip. It was me, brought into this world in the most haunting of circumstances. His eyes alternated between me and the crimson rivulets tracing a path down my mother's form.

Confusion battled with grief as he tenderly lifted me, a father's love mingling with overwhelming loss. He retreated from that haunting sight, cradling me against his chest, and returned to the camp of sleeping travelers.

Their eyes widened at the anguish etched upon his face, and the newborn in his arms prompted a flurry of whispered concern. "What happened to the mother?" they murmured, their voices tinged with alarm.

His voice, heavy with sorrow, broke through their hushed tones. "She... she hung herself." Shock rippled through the group, disbelief etched on their faces. "But... she was carrying a child," they whispered among themselves, grappling with the incomprehensible tragedy.

"Why would she do such a thing?" Their voices swirled in the misty air, their gazes darting between my father and the bundle in his arms. Answers eluded him, lost amidst the tempest of emotions raging within.

The travelers stood in a circle, their faces etched with disbelief and concern. "How could that happen? Goodness! Why did she do it?" Their murmurs merged with the drumming rain, forming an eerie symphony in the wilderness.

A man, moved by compassion, approached my father and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Are you all right?" My father, lost in the swirl of emotions, couldn't utter a word. The man's gaze then fell upon me, cradled in my father's arms. With gentle hands, he peeled away the cloth covering my face and was struck dumb with astonishment at my living presence.

"The baby was born from the dead mother?" His voice cracked with disbelief. Others exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of shock and confusion. "Yes," my father's voice was heavy with sorrow, "but it does not cry."

"It does not cry?" The incredulous tone echoed among them. The man's shock intensified, and a shaman amidst the group stepped forward, her countenance grave. "He should never have been born," she declared, prompting a collective gasp.

"Why would you say such a thing?" One of the travelers questioned her, disbelief and fear etched in his voice. The shaman's words dripped with foreboding. "Imoogi Vampire has cursed the baby."

"Cursed?" The word hung in the air, heavy with dread. The man beside my father recoiled in fear. The shaman elaborated, her voice a low murmur that carried the weight of ancient knowledge. "It has no soul, so it cannot be killed."

My father's anguish deepened, his hand stained with drops of blood from my tiny form. The shaman continued, her words sending shivers down their spines. "The Imoogi Vampire is an evil spirit, who had a grudge against your baby from a previous life."

The travelers were awash with fear and confusion. "Then what should we do now?" A desperate plea echoed amidst the chaos. "What in the world is going on?" Another voice joined in, their tone tinged with disbelief.

"And what in the world is Vampire Imoogi?" Fear threaded through the questions, each word uttered like a prayer for understanding.

"Once it has a grudge," the shaman's voice cut through the uncertainty, "it will chase their soul to the end." Dread settled over the group like a suffocating blanket. "Goodness! What is this?" Their collective disbelief mirrored the mystery that now enveloped them.

The shaman's ominous words had woven a tapestry of fear and confusion among the people. Despair and questions flooded their minds. "What will happen to us? Does this mean we're doomed?"

Meanwhile, my father sat amidst the sorrow, tears carving their silent paths down his cheeks as he gazed at me nestled in his palm. His eyes fixated on the mark on my tiny hand, an eerie pattern reminiscent of a wound inflicted by a blade.

Years passed, and I found myself wandering through the snow-covered landscape, a ten-year-old burdened with exhaustion. Gasping for breath, I scavenged for dry sticks, my eyes seeking solace in the gentle glow cast by the sun upon the trees.

Suddenly, distant sounds reached my ears, alerting me to approaching figures. Startled, I darted behind a tree, concealing myself from view. Two men trudged by, their footsteps leaving imprints in the snow. One of them remarked, "Wait, gosh, why did it snow so much?"

They conversed, dipping their legs into the cold terrain. "Why would you want to hunt on a day like this?" questioned one. The other replied, "I had nothing to eat." His companion expressed dismay, and then their gazes locked onto the tree where I hid.

"Dammit!" One of the men spat out, his words dripping with contempt. I turned away, feeling the weight of their disdain. "That cursed boy," uttered the other, his voice filled with resentment. "I know we were going to have bad luck today seeing him. Come on, let's go!"

Their hatred pierced through me like icy winds, tearing at my fragile heart. As they struggled through the snow, one lagging behind, the other urged, "Hurry up!" Tears streamed down my face, a ten-year-old bearing the burden of unwarranted scorn.

The two men trudged on, their village looming in the distance, obscured by the thick fog.

Frustration simmered in their conversation. "Damn it! We've been here for ten years, and still, famine grips us. And now, my wife's pregnant again," one exclaimed, his voice heavy with worry.

His companion at the back replied wearily, "I told you, I've no energy left even for farming without food." The other retorted, "Hey, farming and love-making require different kinds of energy, gosh!"

"Forget it," the back one sighed. "How would a bachelor like you know?" The exchange between the friends was tinged with a mix of banter and underlying concern.

The conversation took a turn when the one named Josh, longing for companionship, implored his friend. "Help me find a nice lady to settle down with." His friend, bluntly named Paulo, didn't mince words. "No one wants to marry you because of your ugly face."

Josh sighed, feeling dejected. "You're so mean," he muttered. Paulo chuckled, but then his laughter turned to concern. "Oh no, my stomach's been feeling funny." With a sudden urgency, he dashed into the bushes, leaving Josh bewildered.

Confusion clouded Josh's face as he called out to his disappearing friend. "Wait, why so sudden?" But there was no reply. "My goodness, I thought he hadn't eaten anything," Josh murmured to himself.

Seated alone, strange noises teased Josh's ears, causing him to scan the surroundings nervously. "Why're you taking so long, Paulo?" he called out. Silence greeted him, compelling him to rise and venture toward the path Paulo had taken.

Anxiety gnawed at him as he pushed deeper into the dense foliage. "Paulo, answer me," he called repeatedly, his voice tinged with apprehension. But there was no response.

Josh's heartbeat quickened, a shiver of fear dancing down his spine. "Where are you?" he cried out into the eerie silence. His steps faltered, uncertainty gripping by him as he navigated the dimly lit undergrowth.

The woods seemed to swallow his words, leaving him with a hollow echo of his own fears. "This isn't funny, Paulo!" he pleaded, his voice wavering. Panic clawed at him as he frantically searched for any trace of his missing friend.