The world, as we know it, is forever evolving.

It is evolving into what has yet to be seen, and probably won't be seen until this vessel has long been turned to dust. But with a look at its past, we can see the path it has taken to reach the present, the now. With each passing era, great civilizations would rise, they would dominate, and they would fall and fade away into dust. But what has been constant, through the eons, has been the real vampire. Within the overall vampire community, the vast majority of us believe in reincarnation. Within that group resides another that believes our vampire soul is reincarnated as well. I, as well as my lady, my love, fall within this group. We believe it is the journey that makes us who we are and what we are today, in this world, in this now. We are twin flames, soul mates, lovers, a lord and his lady, master and slave. We are all of these, and we have been so for more than a few lifetimes. We've been royalty, lords of manor, farmers and peasants. I have been a woman and she a man, but the one constant is we have always found one another in every lifetime we have been blessed to share. It's those experiences that we have carried over. We remember, we relish, and we embrace our shared and combined past. Everyone searches for their soul mate, even more their twin flame. I am blessed, for I have found both. In this life we live as we once did with I as her King and master, she as my Queen and submissive. So I have decided to give a glimpse into a day within a few of our lives. It is a glorious day in 795 BC Greece. She stands there by the fire stoking the flames for cooking. She is a fine woman and a devoted one at that, who cares and loves her Master and sees to it that he wants for nothing. As I stroll over to the stone table with sandals in hand, there before me lies fresh geese eggs and ham from a pig I had butchered the day before. As I gaze about the room I realize a smell, a certain sweet smell, a lavender smell upon the air, mingling with the aromas of the morning. Then a smile grows across my face when I realize the sweet smell in the air is her, in all of her magnificence. As I head out into the farmland my love chases me down and places a kiss on my cheek, then smiles and makes a wife’s demand to be safe. The Mediterranean sun beats down upon my body as I both watch my flock, and remove the stones blocking the way of my small bit of land in preparation for planting. When the midday sun is at its highest point, I hear my name being called. I turn to be greeted by a stunning vision. My lady, my love, is making her way over the top of the hill, with an arm of bread, several chunks of lamb and a jar of cool, cool water. She truly is a good and caring woman and I often look toward Olympus and thank the gods for sending one who is surely one of their own. The sun does nothing but highlight her golden features, her auburn hair fluttering from the mid spring breeze. The brightness of her emerald eyes bewitch me yet again, just as they had upon our first introductions when we knew immediately that we each were the one which the Gods had steered us toward. As we sit upon a boulder I watch in admiration as she lays each item out and points, saying with love in her eyes, “For you my love.” It is a wonderful feast made even more so by the company I have with which to eat. Before she returns to our modest dwellings, she again wants reassurance of my safety. I bend and stroke her face and kiss her forehead and whisper “I love you and I will.” As I return to work I can't help but have a song in my heart and love in my soul. As the sun begins its downward journey, I begin to head toward the sheep that should have had their fill of grass hours earlier. I begin to herd them back over the hill, toward the safety of their pens, for the night. As I strap the gate shut, another aroma permeates the evening air. It is one of fresh baked bread, lamb, fish, and a new refreshing quencher of thirst which had arrived through trade with Egypt. As I sit down at the table, my meal is already displayed before me. It is at that moment that I realize I am truly the luckiest man in our world, if only for the reason that when I close my eyes to sleep I will awake to another day as grand as this one. What more can a man ask the Gods for?

The time is 1288 in the year of our lord. As Lord of this land, I have been fighting on behalf of my King. In what can only be described as a war of feelings or, dare I say, hurt feelings. I have lost too many men and Elven allies. My desire to serve King and country is wearing thin at best. From behind me, I hear the rustle of footsteps and know it must be one of two ladies whom occupy my heart. From the smell of the north woods which fill my nostrils, I smile and reply, “It is good to have you near, mon jolie beaute' Elven.” I feel her wonderful smile even before I turn to see it. My beautiful Elven princess stands before me in satin and gold clothing befitting a woman with Elven blood within her veins. At that moment a figure enters the court and my breath, just as it did the first time my eyes laid upon her, escaped with a gasp. Her beauty, both inside and out, fills all who cross her path with warmth and joy. And to her, I have pledged my life. She bows and then gently rubs the side of my haggard cheeks saying, “You are tired my Lord, how may I ease your weary mind?” I smile, hold her close and whisper in her ear, “You already have.” With those words, I am rewarded with a kiss and the grandest of all smiles for she is my Queen and performs that role well. But as my lady, my love, and my life she exceeds beyond all others. With the sight of both my personal Queen as well as my Princess, I find myself wishing for the opposite of what I had been begging God for, an end to the day. For in the company of two beauties, such as these, I now pray for the moment to go on forever. The year is 1862 and I, a simple blacksmith, have found myself yet again in the middle of a war. My job is to repair cannons that are in desperate need. The morning started out like any other, wishing I was back in the comfort of my home and furnace, waking in the arms of my love. We’ve barely finished the morning rations when the call to cannons sounds. The battle has begun. As I race to my assigned place I can hear, in the distance, the roar of thousands of muskets and carbines exploding as one. With those explosions, comes a sea of cries and screams as the wounded and dead fall to the earth below their feet. We proceed to load our cannon, with me fulfilling my duties and ramming first the powder, then the ball. At around our fifth volley, the first explosion happens just yards behind me, snapping a mighty pine. The union artillery has decided to join the battle. For the next several hours the roar of cannon fire is deafening to the ears. With only the surrounding screams of nearby comrades using their last breaths, we are ordered to split into two groups with five of our big guns aimed toward the battle below, the remainder aimed toward the enemy cannons. This exchange carries on for what seems an eternity. The sound of screams, the smell of blood, and the visions of carnage are the themes of the day. I never see it but the whoosh is undeniable and I hit the ground just as a brighter, more deadly explosion rains upon us. We have been hit. I never really feel the pain as much as I feel the agony my friends are enduring next to me. Of course, I have always been able to do that. I feel others emotions like anger, hate, sadness, happiness, agony and joy. Over time I have even become able to taste them. But as I lay there, not feeling my leg, I begin to smile. When they come to retrieve me I hear a voice say, “You’re done boy. You’re going home, and as a war hero no less.” I begin to smile even more, but not at the thought of being a war hero for that is the last thing I want. I am smiling at the word “home”. I am smiling that I finally know there will be a tomorrow; one spent waking in her arms. As I leave the field hospital, where I learned they had to take my leg, I feel that familiar twitch and I smile again. As the captain officially gives me my papers to leave, my smile grows wider. I hobble onto the back of the wagon I think of how it will be just a few more days and I'll be home to her. The wagon heads down that deep rutted trail and my smile becomes a giggle. As the wagon clears the horizon, I become a willing victim to joyous laughter.

You see, real vampires, or at least those who believe in an immortal soul can remember and relive their pasts. For some, it is a pleasant experience. But don't let the brief glimpses I've given you fool you into thinking it is all roses. For I, as well as every other person, have had my share of downs as well as ups. The ups we cherish, the downs we use as a tough lesson learned. But “our” pasts they are, and therefore a part of what make up those vampires within this belief. As I've said, the world is ever evolving, ever changing, into what though is still open. All I know is that, regardless of what happens, my immortal soul will be there to experience the new birth of a new civilization. Just as I, as countless others have through out eons of time, have come to accept our fate and our rebirth into the world. I can only speak for myself when I view the future. Countless others because of their past, however accepting of their fate they may be, do not look forward to it, whereas I have come to embrace it with the thought of being with my twin flame yet again. With that thought I begin to smile.

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