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Short Story S:1 P: 11 - Mina

An excerpt from The Diary of Mina


Lifetimes have passed since I have put words to paper, I dare say even, since I have been brave enough to share my voice with others. Nay, I have not been mute all these years, but I have left my internal struggles unspoken.
Until now.
I cannot hold the devils tongue that cries so loudly for me to share the world I have come to live in any longer. Though once vial and the damming fiend that took my soul, he is now my only true companion, a lover that has never left my bed nor my side. His whispered desires turned me away from the life I once lead and pulled me across oceans and vast mountainscapes to this still foreign country I call home.


As I write this, recounting so many years gone by, I am sharing space with three ghosts who occupy, not just this very room, but so much more than time. Their voices are just as loud as his, each with tales so tragic, so heartbreaking I fear that once I have shared them all I too will break, but I cannot let them remain silent as well. They have mourned at the devils cry too for we are united in body & soul--our lives so connected we could very well portray the demon beast Cerberus in Homer’s writings upon the stage at Walnut Street’s Theatre. We each have our own lives, our own stories and even our own names, but we are still one. One body, one mind, one soul damned to the fires of hell who have yet to call upon us. I do not know when it may ever will, but I fear if it does not we will never find the forgiveness we had been deceived of so long ago. God has no voice where demons tread for he chooses not too, even when you call upon his mercy with the blood of others.


If I must begin it shall be with the eldest for it is her voice, that though weak, still speaks strongly. She first brought the devil upon us with innocence in youth, her timidness and physical beauty capturing the sight of a Inccubi searching the streets of the educated and well to do for such a woman as her. It is her blood that runs through our veins and it is her unchanging beauty we share. Faint, with a mild English accent I can hardly recall, she begins with her name, always her name, its birth-sake carved upon her tongue as it is upon a stone a continent away. She is Wilhelmina Harker-- mother, wife and beloved of no one but say the devil that owns us all.

 I have never forgotten the years that have swept past me, the faces of those that have long since fallen--their names forever heavy upon my heart. I wanted nothing more in life than to be settled with a man of great character, someone who was gentle, strong...
*Long ago I had the urge to continue Mina's story in a direction that has not been taken yet. This is where her voice stopped. Perhaps one day soon I'll sit and encourage her to continue her tale.
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