Earl Yorke

WARNING: This excerpt is very graphic, and I advise against reading it if you are uncomfortable with violent and disturbing images of childbirth. It is a very necessary part of the book, and I trust that those of you who choose to read it will understand that I portray the birth of Ezeth in this manner in order to show the evil comes to dominate him, as a result of his diabolical nature, later on in the story. This still remains one of my favorite manuscripts, and I trust that those of you who decide to read it will understand how I create a whole new spin on the already tired Vampire genre.

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The following is an excerpt taken from “The Bloodlines of Rollinsford”:

The Birth of the Dark Messiah

The chilly night would have been bearable if not for the frigid winds that seemed to blow right through the dense pine forest, violently tossing the fallen leaves of various maple and oak trees around the large clearing. Here, deep within the Vaughn Woods of South Berwick, Maine the various dwellings of the Rollinsford Clan lay illuminated in the pale glow of the half-moon above. Despite the harshness of the weather, those who belonged to the clan didn’t even suffer so much as a mild discomfort from the cold. They didn’t feel it at all.

The sky was clear that night. The thick, dark rain clouds that had pelted the area with unending precipitation for nearly two days had now dissipated, leaving the black soil of the old carriage road that ran through the woods quite muddy and dotted with brown puddles of varying sizes. The strong aroma of moist soil and soaked leaves was carried by the winds up into the compound, though not one of the creatures that dwelled within this accursed place paid any attention to it as they walked out of their camp-style homes. They had been distracted from their various nocturnal activities by the high-pitched screams of a female coming from the house at the southern end of the pine-dotted clearing… the home of Scypher, who was undeniably the most disturbed and perverted member of the clan.

The agonized wailing of the female bellowed out of a small shack that stood behind Schypher’s two-story dwelling, and echoed throughout the large enclosure. Since just after dusk the screams of torment had filled the air, and was not only picked up by the keen ears of the common drones, but also gripping the attention of the nobles who resided on the northern border of the clearing. It wasn’t long before it caught the attention of master and founder of the clan .

Nage sat within the massive, one-room, upper level of his cape-style abode, restlessly studying the hand-written scriptures that detailed the fifteen-year history of his clan’s existence. Even during the daytime hours when the sun had cast its lethal glare upon the compound, he had remained seated there reading in the sanctity of his window-less home. His studies had gone uninterrupted until the tortured screams had become so loud that they penetrated his chamber. He was immediately torn away from his work, knowing exactly what the source of the screaming was. The knowledge of what was causing such pain for the female filled him with an overwhelming sense of joy and relief. He had waited what seemed like an eternity for this night.

Some ten months prior to that late-November night in 1940, Nage’s son, the one and only Scypher, had stolen a toy of sorts for himself in the form of a thirteen-year-old female from the house of Plect’aratha, a clan noble who lived two dwellings down from the master. Though Scypher’s crime, and motives for committing it were equally condemning, Nage wasn’t about to punish his only son for such demented actions, nor was he about to indulge any pleas for the female’s release. He stood behind his decision even after discovering that the pervert had imprisoned this female in his tool-shed and had been rapaciously violating her on a twice-nightly basis. Refusing to relent even the slightest bit, he continued to defile the young maiden even after she began to boast a prominent stomach. The fact that she was quite obviously with child made no difference to him at all. Nage saw no reason to intervene, knowing that there was little his demented son could do that would harm what was growing inside of the female, and he didn’t care about what became of her as long as she delivered an heir to his throne. Scypher was in no way stable enough to assume such responsibility, and he knew it just as well as the master did.

Nage stood up, laying the yellowed and tattered scriptures down upon his pine desk as the loose floorboards beneath him creaked under his weight (he did not notice this, however, amidst the strong screams that somehow managed to get through the walls). He wasted no time in pulling his black, woolen cloak over his upper body as he grasped his beloved cane, the handle of which was an eight ball. It was an impressive tool, though he had no use for it as a walking aid… the solid gold tip of it had seldom ever touched the ground.

Too hurried to blow out the candles that lit his chamber, Nage allowed the various matching menorahs – one in each of the four corners of the room – to burn during his errand, shining a dim, and flickering glow over the huge room.

As he reached the chamber’s entryway, which gave way to a long staircase that wound downward to the first level and came out in his sitting room just beside the fireplace, Nage quickly rushed down the creaking steps and then out of his house. Pushing a lock of waist-length, fiery-red hair out of his face, he slowed his pace to a more of a casual strut of sorts as he walked out across the compound where the watchful eyes of the various clan drones adhered to him, staring in awe at their ruler. To run, he feared, would diminish the calm and collected image that he had never yet faltered in keeping up. He also wasn’t about to let this proletarian class get the impression that he was as curious as they were when it came to the source of the screaming (though he was more excited to get to the shed considering his knowledge of what was unfolding within).

The various dwellings of Nage’s people were placed sporadically throughout the compound with no organized layout, leaving him to zigzag through the various tiny alleys in between in order to bring himself closer to his destination. The half-moon above did little to illuminate his journey as he passed beneath the thick pine trees and houses in a blind amble of sorts.

The drones all stood in and around their doorways on the carriage road that ran around the edge of the enclosure, and some even sat upon the filthy, mud-covered ground. Some of them, at the sight of Nage, bowed their heads while a majority genuflected. They dared not gaze upon their master for too long, as such an overwhelming example of invulnerable power was almost horrifying to behold. Nage was both loved and feared by his people, though their fear was more apt rise in them at the sight of him. His sadism was no secret to the drones or the pure-blood nobles, and the fact that there were screams of pain emanating from his son’s shed really didn’t shock them at all given their knowledge of Schypher’s similar passions when it came to torture. The screams were something very new though, as he was accustomed to gagging his victims in order to avoid any possible attention from his father.

The Master neared the end of the compound where Scypher’s home stood, covered in vines that seemed to grow dramatically longer with every passing day. The scent of decay hovered over this place, filling his nostrils as he passed through the trees that surrounded the abode and neared the massive grave concealed within the abundance of pine needles. Though Nage didn’t know of what his son actually would do with the townsfolk of all ages and gender that he would abduct from downtown Rollinsford every night, their deaths were obviously quite painful judging from the various missing limbs and appendages on the numerous cadavers that overflowed up out of the grave’s mouth. Some of the bodies had it worse though, as Nage found himself gazing upon many hunks of flesh and bone littering the edge of the hole, undistinguishable at all even to him.

Scypher’s shed came into view as Nage came out of the trees that encircled the tiny backyard of the house. The intensity of the screaming was dramatically higher there, almost to the point where it was ear shattering. Nage suspected that the birth-process for the female was a great deal more agonizing than any he had ever beheld given that he had never, for any reason, felt more compelled to cup his hands over his ears. Choosing to bear the painful screaming that seemed to stab at his eardrums like ice picks being driven into his ear canals, Nage pushed himself on toward the shed, now a bit faster than before since he had escaped the peeping eyes of the drones.

The shed was of the saltbox style, named so for its slanting roof and elevated base. It had been built some time before Nage and Scypher had settled upon the vacant compound, and like the other dwellings in the compound, which varied in style and size, the shed was very crudely pieced together. Nage’s original instinct told him that a rival clan might have once occupied the large clearing, having died out or moved on. The lumber was very poorly cut, uneven and bumpy. Knotholes of every size imaginable peaked in various places along the surface of each plank. Every hole and crack had been plugged up to keep the sun out (as was the case with the other dwellings), but the shed still wasn’t a place where Nage would risk spending his daytime slumber.

The door was open, and a set of fresh, muddy footprints could easily be distinguished on the ramp that lead up to the elevated shed entrance. It was a barn-style door that one had to slide to the right to open. Judging by the size of the footprints that appeared on the ramp, someone had recently entered the shed, and Nage was certain that it was Scypher… it would be no other.

Nage walked a bit faster as he grew closer. His black, leather boots sloshed noisily through the muddy soil as he moved along, his eyes trained upon the dim candlelight that flickered within the shed, and his eardrums throbbing in pain with every scream that escaped the female’s mouth. His excitement compelled him to quicken his pace even more until he was speed walking over the wet terrain. He quickly reached the shed, and stepped in through the already open door.

Several thick, wooden beams ran across the upper interior of the one-room saltbox, helping to support the structure with the combined stability of six other beams that ran vertically to the floor from them. To each of these vertical beams there was a candle fixture attached, leaving the small room lit by a mere six candles that flickered uncontrollably as the wind came in through the open door.

A vacant workbench offering several empty slots and shelves for various tools and other implements could be seen illuminated in the dim candlelight. It was the only structure that occupied the entire shack, spanning half of the right wall. Judging from its lack of tools and such that were obviously meant to fill the vacant slots and shelves, Nage decided that Scypher employed the shed for purposes other than building projects. As He well knew, for Scypher the shed was a prison.

Beside the workbench in the far right corner lay a very young woman, who writhed in pain upon the splintery floorboards without even so much as a blanket while her screams of agony escaped her clenched teeth. She was fully nude, and her skin was caked with dirt and other filth. This was particularly concentrated around her thighs, and Nage could only imagine it to be her own feces. Brown lines of sweat ran down her face and chest, having caught a bit of the grime that covered her as they cascaded down her bare skin. Her long, brown hair was filthy and matted, clinging in repulsive clumps to her face. Even her heavy breathing did not so much as lift a lock off the tangled mats of hair that adhered to her moist flesh. It was as if they were glued there.

The female’s eyes were clenched tightly shut, not fluttering one bit as her body jerked about in response to the pain of her seemingly endless contractions. A large bloodstain marked the floorboards that she lay upon with large amounts of crimson fluid gushing out of her fully dilated vagina.

Nage stood motionless in the open doorway, watching as the female rolled about on the floor in her own spoiled juices. Never before had he witnessed such an agonizing birth. He marveled at the rapacious movements that could easily be detected within her abdomen. The infant within her could be seen pushing its hands along the walls of her uterus as the flesh of her stomach bulged in random places off and on. The fact that her blood was flowing like a river from between her thighs caused Nage to speculate that something was obviously going wrong within her body.

The Rollinsford clan Master searched the room for signs of Scypher, almost cringing as his eyes settled upon his son in the opposite corner of the room with his right hand tightly gripping his erect penis. He stroked frantically, yet with a strange rhythm to his jerking motions as he gazed fixatedly at the soon-to-be mother of his child rolling around in pain. His pants were bunched around his ankles, holding them in close proximity to one another as his splayed, raised knees caused his calves to form a V-shape through which he stared at the female. A nappy line of curly hair ran down his chest revealing large clumps of dried mud attached to the bushy path that lead down to his genitals, red in color of course.

Scypher leaned lazily back against the splintery wall of the room, paying no attention to the tiny strips of wood that Nage knew were prickling his coarse flesh. He was too disturbingly aroused by the sight of the nude female in anguished labor that he paid no attention to anything… not even his father’s presence there.

Closing his eyes briefly, Nage attempted to force the still remaining images of his masturbating son out of his mind. He opened his eyes, but not before shifting his gaze to the female, noticing a tiny foot poking out from between her legs right away. Before he could even realize what was happening, the other foot popped out! Anyone who had ever witnessed the miracle of birth knew that the head was always the first to emerge during a normal labor, but as Nage had already decided, this was no normal birth.

The female settled upon her back and powerfully slammed her head into the rough floorboards over and over again as her screams of pain intensified. She bent her knees, splaying her legs open wider and wider, as if trying to tear herself into two pieces in order to release the baby, who slowly emerged in an amazing explosion of blood. It could be seen to have male genitalia as it slid further out of its mother.

Nage cringed as a scream so much louder than any that had previously came out of the female suddenly pierced into his eardrums, causing him to drop his cane in an involuntary defensive reaction that saw him finally cupping his hands over his tormented ears. Pushing powerfully against his head as if it were about to explode, Nage managed to shoot a glance at the screaming female. He watched as the infant came out of her body, noting an expression of unbearable agony spreading across her face as it emerged into the world in a flood of deep red liquid from the overly stretched opening between her legs.

Shocked, much to his own surprise, Nage’s mouth dropped open as his son stepped into view. He was now clothed from the waist down, but his filthy upper body was still exposed. Scypher reached down with his right hand and closed his fingers around the infant’s full head of stringy red hair, noticing something that Nage had not as he bent down; the child’s arms were outstretched over its head, leaving its hands still within the female’s body. Lifting the baby, both Nage and Scypher watched as its hands emerged with the mother’s intestines clasped tightly in its tiny fists. It resembled a very long, thick elastic band being pulled out of the bloody, hair encircled opening between the female’s legs.

The infant released his hold on his mother’s bowels as Scypher held him out by the head over her quivering body. The umbilical cord instantly snapped, disintegrating in the blink of an eye (as was customary with their kind at birth). His grip on the infant’s head did not seem to bother the newborn one bit, despite the lack of support going to its lower body. Amazed, he shuddered as the child’s eyes flushed from a deep black to a pale red, then to a bright, canary yellow in a single instant.

It was then that Nage knelt down beside Scypher, and reached out with his left hand, securing it around the infant’s neck at the base where it met with the shoulders. It’s pulse throbbed rapidly as its body heat fluctuated from a warm temperature to a bitter, frigid cold, as if it was dead.

Nage’s red eyes met with those of Scypher as the new father allowed the Master to take his child, releasing his hold upon its head. He watched as his father held his newborn boy out so that it could watch its mother draw one final breath of air – gazing at her own child in fear – before her body went limp and her head slammed back against the floorboards with a hollow thud.

The child seemed delighted at what he was watching. A broad smile spread across its chubby, pale face revealing a completely toothless array of gums with the exception of two elongated canine incisors that poked out from beneath its upper lip. As Nage turned the infant to look upon him, his eyes settled upon the fangs right away. He very carefully lifted the child’s lip with his left thumb in order to get a good look, and gasped as he found himself staring at the longest, pearly-white fangs that he had ever seen on an infant born into his race of people. He was briefly startled as he found the fangs to be razor-sharp, tearing a gash in his flesh as he ran his thumb over the tip of the left tooth. The infant immediately began to suckle at the blood that trickled out of the wound, instinctively drawn to the nourishing red fluid.

“Deadly,” Nage hissed, carefully pulling his thumb out of the infant’s mouth so as not to slice it on the tooth again. Holding his thumb above the child’s open mouth, he allowed a few droplets of blood to fall onto its flickering tongue, noting the ravenous manner in which it would swallow, relishing every bit of it.

“What an amazing gift this is,” Nage spoke softly to himself, ignoring his son completely as he obsessed over his heir. Looking briefly at the unmoving body of the mother, he turned to Scypher and spoke, “See to it that she never awakens… I want nobody to know about this… I will take care of Plect’aratha. You have both served your purposes, and this child is nothing for you to burden yourself with in any way. I will be responsible for his upbringing.”

Scypher nodded, not hesitating at all as he briefly considered Nage’s words. He looked
to the lifeless mother; all crumpled up like a rag doll upon the floor. The only regret that flashed through the demented vampire’s head at that point was the fact that he had not had his way with her one more time before her demise… he would have loved to ravage her in all of her post-labor discomfort and pain.

Nage smiled at the newborn, revealing his own pointed teeth to his new protégé. He then stood up, and carried the infant out of the shed, still holding it in the air. Beneath the pale glow of the half moon he proudly raised his voice for all to hear, “Let the moon, our sun, bear witness to the birth of the Dark Messiah of the Kindred race… Ezeth!”

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