Before anybody goes on about saying it needs more of an ending or anything like that, it is unfinished as I don't quite know how to continue. I'll update when I have finished though, and for anybody who wants, I'll PM you so that you can read the whole thing. And yes, I know I need to break it down into paragraphs.
The first of my tales will be of my least interesting tale, my closest friend’s creation: His name is Hamadi, created 1563BC, he is my oldest friend but not the oldest of my contacts.
For two hundred or so years after my creation I roamed the world alone, but in this time I did not find nor did anything of particular interest however, my travels eventually saw me land on the eastern shores of ancient Egypt, I moored my ship there, in the small harbour of a fishing village. It was early in the evening and I had only recently risen from my day time rest. By the way when I say that the previous years had been lonely I meant apart from the company of humans who sailed my great ship for me during the day, I let the crew leave as and when they wanted, I never feared them and nor they me. Anyway, when I arrived in this town I felt a pulsing throb in the back of my mind but ignored it, it isn’t uncommon for vampires to experience headaches that range from been mild to extremely painful. To begin with I did as I always do in a new town, which was to ask about any rumours or local tales and legends. In later years this proved to be quite useful and fun, but with this community they seemed to be reluctant to share any knowledge that they had. Before I went insane with blood lust I had to feed, for this I travelled as quickly as I could to the next town for to kill on your arrival in a town is to risk your life because in ancient times when religions were based on myths and fantasy humans believed that we did actually exist and would have killed us if they knew we were there. But back to the story, I fed as usual then returned to the village where I had docked. Most children were returning home following the calls of their parents telling them to ‘come home, come to bed’. The only people left out were those who closing their small stalls but the very few specialist stores still stood open along with the local inn on the very edge of town, it was called the ‘Fisherman’s Rest’, roughly translated that is. In there again I faced the same problems as before, the people acted as if they had something to hide and wouldn’t tell me anything until I came across a young man sat alone in a corner. His skin was a lot darker than most his age and his eyes along with his hair were jet black, but even though his skin was dark it had an almost golden sheen to it. At the bar I ordered two tankards of mead and took them and sat beside him, offering him one of the meads. In those times it wasn’t unheard of that strangers would buy the locals drinks as a sign of respect for their hospitality. By the way a vampire can easily slip into any language he or she wants, it’s just something in our brains do, so it was simple to start convocation with him. It turned out that he was already considerably drunk due to his depression because his family had disowned him for joining ‘a cult’. Eventually after resting his head, heavily, on my shoulder and crying he told me in slurs that his name was Hamadi. Consciously I slide a little away from so that we were looking directly into each other’s eyes. Quietly he whispered to me that if his masters were to find him in this state we would be severely punished maybe even killed and that he would never go back to that retched place beneath the sands. For hours we talked after that, about anything and everything. I had to be careful not to disclose any vital information about my origins though. Unfortunately as the night wore on and dawn drew closer Hamadi had to retire to his feeble room at the inn and I to my light proof room on board the ship. The fable that all vampires sleep in coffins is an outright lie, some may choose to sleep in those uncomfortable and cramped things, but most of us who have sense sleep somewhere comfortable during our days’ rest. Also contrary to common belief we can and do dream much like humans do, if anything more vividly than humans, so don’t believe all rumours about us please. Anyway, the next day (night, sorry) after I had fed we met again in the inn however this time he was sober. Again we sat at the same table as before only this time he started questioning me rather than continuing the conversation from the night before. He hungered for knowledge that I could not give him, although he soon got the hint that I wasn’t going to tell him anything of real interest. Finally we lapsed back into the convocation from the night before, however slowly he began to draw information out me without my consciously knowing. Also he dropped hints to what his cult was about, what was really going on here, little bits and pieces that should have registered in my brain which was slowing becoming more s and sluggish. He had drugged me, with what and how I had no idea. Without truly realizing it I passed out but was still vaguely aware of hands holding my body, lifting me, carrying me.
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