B is for Byron

You may call me Byron. Observe the aristocratic paleness of my skin, yet my wiry build, which speaks of an active life. I’ve managed to hide the paunch, which hints of a disapated one. No, I’m not the Lord Byron, the poet, but I’ve taken his name. We’ve heard of him, even in this world. For me, he was a symbol of sexual freedom, a struggle for what you believe in, and a sarcastic attitude towards a world, which was often cruel, hypocritical, or unfair. All these things are true in my world, as well as his. For I’m not from the same world as Lord Byron. In my world, I belonged to the church, and afterwards my master. The only thing I owned was my name. Therefore I took on the name of ‘Byron’, while my beloved companion took on the name of ‘Shelley’. He looks the part, too, with his strawberry blonde curls, and his earnest, freckled face. Yes, Shelley had freckles in my mind, just as Byron belonged to a vampire in his youth. No, these things didn’t necessarily happen, but they’re part of an on-going story in my mind, which mingles with my own. For there are vampires, walking the streets of Paradise, our fair city, only we don’t call them vampires. We call them lords, judges, mister, and master. They feed upon spirit and creative energy, as much as they do upon blood. You can always tell someone, who’s been with one of them. S/he’s pale, listless, no longer stirring out of doors, shunning the sun, air, and light. Most of all, if s/he was an artist, s/he loses the ability to spin tales, create poetry, or whatever medium s/he once shone at. My master is a vampire. He claims to be the lover of my mother, just as Shelley’s ‘father’ is one of them. They’ve created a labyrinthe for us, a twisted funhouse made of stolen dreams, in which our cages sit in. However, Shelley and I will open our cages, for the same talents which drew our undead masters to us, are the keys to our escape. Or they will be, if our author finishes our story, submits it, and ‘On the Other Side of the Mask’ is accepted. Send us your blessings, so our story may someday reach you.


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