Buna Ziua totul, ma numesc Luminita Dimineață!
Hello everyone!
For those who cannot read ancient Romanian, let me introduce myself: I am Luminita Dimineata, a 14.5-year-old vampire; however, in vampire terms, I am in my second immortal stage. I am a first-year student at King Dracula Prep in Brasov, Transylvania, which I genuinely hate! Every day is the same shit…. I am teased and taunted by many social cliques, but the Girls of Blood primarily harass me, the social circle of the most popular girls in school. They all profess their devotion to DracuLord and go around school wearing a unique ankh necklace with a tiny drop of blood given to them by their local Nocturnal House Noctuar Priest for being unbitten. This special award is a status symbol. And they let nobody forget this fact.
When I am not studying at King Dracula Prep for Young Vampire Girls or being harassed by the “Girls of Blood,” I work the weekend bright shift at Spider Salads in the area once inhabited by werewolves but has since seen rapid vampireization. Most of the old werewolf homes have been destroyed. Although the werewolves were driven out of town, it is regarded as the creature ghetto since this is where many societal outcasts live. One of the most significant minorities is the goblins, who are allowed into our part of Transylvania due to a special arrangement. They were brought to Transylvania from Central Europe right after The Great Mortal War as laborers to rebuild vampire society. They were explicitly brought here as they do not have any interest in blood, posing little threat to humanity. However, they do cause a lot of mischief, especially when they come to Spider Salads. Their favorite food is Nightshade Salad, our signature salad combining several kinds of spiders, toad venom with skunk cabbage, and bat hair with deadly nightshade berries to spice it up. They are not as sensitive to light as we are; thus, goblins mainly come in during the bright shift. Because I work the bright shift, I must wear special protective gear to protect myself from the harmful light. Our restaurant is entirely sealed in from darkness, but there is always a chance that the darkness could be breached, and daylight reaches the dining room. We have a particular protocol in case this happens.
My job is tolerable; the pay is decent, but I wish my salary were better. I am given a pint of blood every month with 0.0001 blue blood mixed into it. I hate it when the Gobliner Family comes by Spider Salads. They are so Draculord awful; they sit there staring at me, and when I turn my head, they giggle, vomiting green slime everywhere, then throwing it against the wall! The goblins comprise most of the underworld workforce, which consists of those who carry giant carts of blood and dispose of executed vampire bodies. Without them, society could not function. In their spare time, they like to play “Goblin Puck Smash,” a sport that was known in ancient Europe as ice hockey. The game aims to smash and injure your opponent as much as possible. Even after they have broken their nemesis, they heal within seconds and prepare for their next game.
Before the days of Dracula Prep, I attended a private school in Sinai, a magnet school for all Balkan creatures. We all studied together and hung out. My best friends were samodivas, giants, and other fascinating beings. Life was good. My father, however, was rarely home since his job as an associate professor at the College of Execution Sciences demanded most of his time be spent in Cluj Napoca, the headquarters of the Royal Dracula Mercenary Forces. At that time, enemy forces, an alliance of werewolves, and a group of mortals who had survived the catastrophic events of 2548 controlled a large swath of Transylvania. The vampire army fought vigorously and eventually recaptured the critical city of Brasov, where I would later move.
Because my dad was often absent, my mother raised me. Unlike my father, my mom is half Dhampir—her mother was Dhampir, and her father was a vampire. Their marriage was arranged. My mom’s family lived in a small village in southern Wallachia. Vampires rarely married dhampirs, but my mom’s family offered my dad an enormous dowry. At first, he was reluctant to accept because he was a vampire purist. However, since most vampire women had been sent to war (they possessed extraordinary powers of seduction), there was a significant decrease in eligible vampire bachelorettes.
Most vampires were expected to marry by their third stage of immortality. Failure to do so was considered odd and could lead to many opportunities being denied to single vampire men. My father was on a glide path to becoming a top executioner. Still, his status as a single vampire in the latter stage of his third stage of immortality led him to be passed over for numerous promotions.
All marriages had to be approved by the Royal Transylvanian Ministry of Vampire Purity. Failure to receive approval would relegate one to being a “shadow vampire.” Thus, to avoid any possibility of being demoted to a lower class due to unapproved marriage, my dad hired a special marriage representative to plead his case to the five-member panel.
The ministry rarely encountered such a case, and approval was never guaranteed. Thanks to the dowry money, he hired the best marriage representative one could buy. The court was in Sighisoara, long considered the cradle of vampire civilization. There, in the Royal Blood Grand Court of United Transylvania, his representative argued that although my mom was not 100% vampire, the marriage could lead to much-needed intelligence on eradicating the dhampir population in Wallachia, enabling vampires to take this region and expand the vampire nation to the shores of the Danube River. This would position our entities ideally to march into the city once known as Bucharest, now called “The Sectors.” There are four sectors: two controlled by werewolves, Sector 4 by vampires, and Sector 1, a neutral zone guarded by both werewolves and vampires. No one lived in Sector 1, as both armies fought to a stalemate, leaving this conflict frozen. Sector 1 was where all the ancient Romanian treasures and an arsenal of weapons were stored, which would undoubtedly be a critical factor in determining who would rule Wallachia and Transylvania.
After countless moon cycles, the panel declared a deadlock, which automatically meant a lower panel needed to re-assess the case. There was an exception to this ruling. If one were lucky, our dear King Dracula would accept and review their appeal. It was rare, but because of my father’s status as an up-and-coming executioner, King Dracula took only one moon cycle to determine that the marriage was legitimate and should be given the high court seal on the marriage license. Thus, with this seal, they were allowed to form a union.
Now a married immortal, doors began to open, and new opportunities awaited. My father was offered the job of deputy executioner for Brașov, Transylvania, the newly anointed capital of the United BloodHollows (the name of Vampiric communities) of Transylvania. When he was promoted, the city was still under partial werewolf control. Despite numerous efforts to reclaim territory, our dear king could not achieve a significant breakthrough. Thus, King Dracula formally requested my father to be his chief personal advisor and commander of the vampire forces, the most prestigious job in the vampire world.
Under my father’s leadership, the vampire forces reclaimed large swaths of territory, eventually forcing the werewolves to the outer edges of Mt. Tâmpa. This devastating event drove them to the brink of extinction. Attempts by the werewolves to regroup were futile since all their leaders were in prison waiting for an extermination date with my father. The word “execution” was prohibited from being used regarding werewolves as it was deemed inappropriate. Extermination, conversely, signified the destruction of the population.
My world was turned upside down after my father’s promotion forced us to move to Brasov. We went from living in a humble house on Bulevardu Carol I in Sinai (where Romanian was the lingua franca, so place names stayed the same) to a giant castle overlooking the capital of Brasov. I dearly missed Sinai, where we spoke ancient Romanian since many creatures couldn’t speak Transylvanian Vampiric. I secretly adored this ancient language; it flowed so elegantly and held a special place in my heart as the language my mom was born speaking. I also found it fascinating that werewolves could speak it. Their ancestors began moving into the land once known as Romania around the year 2507, following a tremendous tectonic shift—a 50.0 earthquake—that wiped out a large portion of the mortal population and local vampire communities, fracturing the continent once known as Europe into pieces. Moving to Brasov only intensified my longing for Sinai. In Brasov, discussing this ancient land and werewolves, considered evil and enemies of the Blood, was strictly prohibited. Information about werewolves was highly classified and kept in a secret vault in the Royal Blood Library in Sighisoara.
However, with despair comes hope…..and this feeling appeared when I was told not to go near Tampa Mountain, where a small pack of werewolves still lived. A giant fence called the Werewolf Fence, with armed guards, surrounded the entire mountain. Only top military and government leaders could go behind the fence. Still, I hoped to go beyond the fence someday and meet the werewolves.
My father was already strict, but since he was rarely home, my mom was the boss, and I enjoyed much freedom. However, now that we all lived together in Brasov, my father took charge and felt his duty as a vampire was to raise me in the purest form. He was enraged to the point of fire bursting from his head when he learned of my attendance at a private school for all creatures in Sinai.
“Unacceptable! I do not want my daughter to grow up corrupted by these radical creatures.” Things changed quickly. I was pulled from my school and enrolled in Dracula Prep in Brasov.
My mom took a job at Brașov Spiritual General as a spiritual doctor. Before I was born, she worked as a master curse reverser. Thanks to her, some of the most complex spells cast thousands of years ago suddenly vanished. Since the end of the Great Mortal War, many vampires have suffered from Heximia (a state of being cursed); she founded the Transylvanian Heximia Clinic.
As if moving to Brașov wasn’t batshit enough, I was enrolled at the private all-girls school, Dracula Prep. I hated it. Although there was one thing I liked, it was the lup (wolf) statue in front. It paid tribute to the real wolves hunted to extinction by the werewolves. At Prep, ancient Romanian was STRICTLY prohibited! Any utterance of the language and a young vampire would spend 30 moon cycles in the vampiric attitude adjustment cellar. However, there was hope for KDPS (King Dracula Prep School) in the form of one of my classmates, a girl who was part of the secret female vampiric sorority called Girls of Blood. Her nickname was CandyVamp due to her unprecedented ability to access all the exciting blood fusion narcotics. She claimed her boyfriend’s brother dealt with werewolves smuggling blood and was able to obtain pints of werewolf blood infused with garlic into the city.
I spent days daydreaming about my old school, especially the administrator, Dr. Jack, who was a werewolf. However, there was something odd about him. I had this bizarre feeling he might have some hints of a vampire in him—maybe that’s just my crazy guess. Nonetheless, I swear to DracuLord that I had the biggest crush on him. His flannel shirts and the way he groomed his fur were dreamy. I dreamt of us fleeing Transylvania to Moldovia, a haven for creatures. The borders were sealed tight, but I imagined Jack overpowering the guards and crashing the gate, and we would be in and, most of all, safe! He treated me with respect and dignity, listening to my insecurities. I even hinted to him that I might identify as a werewolf myself. He stayed silent and acknowledged it. I hoped he would say there was help and that he knew the perfect doctor to assist me. I was disappointed he had no concrete answer, but I still adored him.
But then suddenly, I awakened from my dream and heard a loud thumping sound! I looked up…it was Dad! He stomped up the 1,000 stairs to our castle, rattling the entire house. I hadn’t seen him in many moon cycles, so I was excited he was home! Sure, he looked angry, but to keep his job, he could never ever smile. One girl at Dracula Prep told us about her father, a well-respected politician, who spent a couple of hundred moon cycles in Nightshade because he smiled at a citizen! Now, he works in the morgue cleaning up and disposing of executed bodies. I rushed to the door…I did not know how to greet him…my Vampiric was rusty since, in Sinai, we often mixed it with Ancient Romanian. We called it VampManian. Then, I just blurted out:
– “Bună ziua, tatā! Ce mai faci?” meaning “Hello daddy, how are things?”
I’ll never forget the anger on his face. He turned redder than the crimson blood, screaming at the top of his lungs, “One more word of ancient Romanian muttered, and I will brand you!”
Branding is a painful process many rebellious girls experience firsthand. It involves using a hot iron to tattoo the family name across the face and a symbol marking them for life. Girls who wound up branded usually vanished from the community. Nobody knew where they went, but many spoke about a particular vampiric military school in Sighisoara called Moonrise Hall. As much as I loathed Dracula Prep, being branded and sent away was terrifying.
I tried to be the perfect vampire girl, but it was hard. I was a poor actress, and every day, my teachers sent home a 10,000-page report, all written in traditional Vampiric. Mom only understood simple Vampiric, so, to my dismay, my dad would need to read it.
The administrator of my new school was Mr. BatMaster. Every year in Transylvania and vampire enclaves outside Transylvania, there was a vote to determine who would win the King Dracula Eternal Fang Award. This is the highest honor bestowed upon a vampire, given annually to the vampire who has exemplified unparalleled courage, wisdom, and dedication to the vampire race. This award not only celebrates individual accomplishments but also pays tribute to the enduring legacy of King Dracula, who mysteriously vanished many moons ago.
The Eternal Golden Blood Fang recipient is presented with a ceremonial fang meticulously crafted from the golden blue bloodstone, the rarest bloodstone and etched with ancient vampiric runes. Every year, for 75 years running, Mr. BatMaster was the winner. He was proud of his accomplishments and even built a unique palace devoted to all the awards he received over the years. The fang represents the enduring spirit and power of King Dracula, a reminder of the glory and mystery that surround his legacy. The award ceremony, known as the Bloodnight Gala, took place in the grand hall of Castle Dracula, with the most revered members of vampire society in attendance. The finest blueblood cocktails and 100-year-old rat meat dipped in Black Widow Paste were served. The paste was made from several thousand black widow carcasses. Black Widow Paste was very rare and considered a high-end luxury food.
Every year, in the absence of King Dracula, the award is presented by the highest-ranking member of the Royal Dracula Mercenary Forces—my father! In later years, my dad was forced to hand the duties to the caretaker monarchy, The Brothers Dracula, who anointed themselves the official Shadow Kings, meaning they were the de facto kings until the day our king returned. Many were suspicious of them since they had been banished. However, they took the solemn Oath of Blood to bring the king back and do everything they could to bring him home.
Unfortunately, enough people believed their bat shit to keep the rumblings to a minimum. Only one moon-cycle into their reign, they passed a law outlawing any mention of their father; furthermore, any dissent was considered BBT or Blasphemy of the Blood Throne. Offenders inevitably would face a minimum 839 moon cycle sentence. But enough of those bat fuckers; I will need to devote more about these bloody bat-shit-eating bastards later.
So, yeah, that’s my life in a drop of blood. Yep……my life at Dracula Prep is INDEED bloody DracuLord terrible. Eventually, I threw all caution to the wind and became trapped in a cult. But that’s for later.
I promise to bring more details about my life. But for now, I need to study; I have a giant exam in Execution Studies (I hate this course) and am on the verge of failing. So…o zi frumoasa, la revedere!! Have a good day! Bye!!
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