Ravenswynd Legends

Invitation

That evening I had a nightmare. It was one of those dreams that just hang around forever and pop back into your mind at only the least bit of prompting. The funny thing about it was that, when I first woke up and thought about it, I knew there was a lot more to it, but I could only remember a small but blurry scene: I was petrified and cold, and my heartbeat was wild and furious. It was dark, and everything looked fuzzy. Two men were in the midst of a ferocious fight. I heard the crackling slug of knuckles colliding on a jaw and seconds later I saw a body being flung across the room and landing with a bone-crushing thud. Vehement shouting came next, but the exact words were muffled and unclear. And then I saw feet running up a flight of stairs, one set chasing the other. The man in pursuit had long black hair. Nothing else in this dream seemed familiar or real. The fear I felt was paralyzing, and one thing stood out that was indisputable: the smell of blood was all around me.

***

A few weeks went by and I couldn’t stop thinking about the man in the mall and several times a day I recalled the dream. I recognized my fascination with the man, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why this particular dream chose to haunt me. I could not make any sense of it. Not much seemed to make sense in my world anyway.

My twin, Melinda and I had spent most of our lives isolated. All we ever had was one another. When we were three years old our parents died in a plane crash and because neither had any siblings or any other living relatives, the state placed us in an orphanage. Two years later we were placed in a foster home together. Melinda says she has no memory of our parents at all. The only memory I have of my mother is when I was sick with a fever, and she held me in her arms all night long as I fell in and out of consciousness. I believe the memory stayed with me because every time I opened my eyes I saw the frightened look on her face. And any time I’ve ever been sick since that day, I’ve been haunted by her fearful look.

The little we knew about our parents came in bits and pieces through the years from our foster mother. She had told us they were originally from Peace Dale, Rhode Island, and they moved to Providence just after their marriage. The few pictures we had of them revealed how much we resembled our mother, especially around the eyes. I would like to believe our foster parents took both of us in after falling in love with our cute little heart-shaped faces and dark, sapphire-blue eyes. But the reality of it is more likely due to the fact that we refused to be separated. If and when anyone ever tried, our blood curdling screams caused them to re-think their actions immediately.

Even our teachers learned their lessons quite fast. One time in grade school, the teacher tried to make my sister sit on the other side of the room, farther away from me. It only took five minutes of stereophonic, high-pitched screaming for that teacher to change her mind. It didn’t matter how much reasoning was used: we never gave up; we would not be separated - period.

It wasn’t until our senior year in high school that we attempted to become two separate individuals. We determined together that eventually we might want to go on a date alone, possibly even kiss a boy, and we were sure none of the boys at our school would feel the inclination to ask the two of us out together. So it was then, in our last year of high school we told our guidance counselor that we both wanted to try taking a few separate classes. Melinda took the initiative to enter his office alone and told him about our decision. He just about fell off of his chair, and of course, he had to check with me first before he could change anything. By the look on his face when I entered his office, sans my sister, he was almost positive Lindy had just changed her clothes and re-entered.

He put his pen down; a puzzled look wrinkled his face, and said, “Melinda?”

After extensive persuasion, he finally believed I was indeed Elizabeth, and not my twin. We had decided we would try two separate classes: English and History. These two subjects being our easiest, we could study and do our homework alone, finally not relying on one another for help.

This arrangement worked out so well that we even decided to make a few changes in our appearance. There was no one acquainted with us besides Fiona who had the ability to tell us apart, including our foster parents - not that they would take any notice even if one of us had shaved her head. We were quite sure the only reason they became foster parents was for the money.

Halfway through our senior year, Lindy started to curl her hair. Not frizzy curls - not spiral curls. She just took a curling iron and sort of twirled the ends a little, which was not much of a change, but enough so people had at least a small clue as to who was who. We had raven black hair that hung down to our waists - pitch black and pitch straight, thick and full with no bangs. While growing up, if anyone ever tried to cut our hair, we gave them our infamous scream. After one or two tries, our foster mother gave up the idea. We trimmed one another’s ends once or twice a year once we were old enough to handle a scissors, trusting only our love and passion for what we hoped to be our most attractive quality. It seemed like a constant struggle for me; and so much work went into keeping my hair tangle and frizz-free. Although we both invested in so many products that our bathroom overflowed into our closets with straighteners, dryers, creams and conditioners, I was convinced that Lindy’s hair was much thicker and prettier than mine was. We ended each night in our room brushing our hair together. We once read that brushing it nightly like this would make it shiny and beautiful - a crown of glory - and we knew it had to be the first thing anyone noticed about us when we entered a room. And even though we sometimes did get those envious looks, so often the only thing I liked about my hair was its length. And after Melinda took to curling hers, not only did we begin to receive more attention as individuals, but now my hair even looked longer than hers. Fellow students started to treat us like human beings instead of some sort of untouchable, inseparable twosome. It was a big change. And it was a little sad. But all in all, it had been a good decision - a decision which marked a turning point. We became less reliant on one another, and we made friends - some alone and some together. We even went out on dates with boys - separate dates that never amounted to much in the way of real relationships. We enjoyed our last year of high school learning to grow apart while still remaining best friends.

Fiona had been our closest friend since just before junior high school. We grew even closer when she told us that she, too, had spent time in foster care, but her life seemed far sadder than ours. She had been bounced from family to family, and without any siblings, she had to endure it alone. We understood exactly how she felt; we at least had each other. Being such a dreamer and superstitious sort, Fiona had always been a huge fan of the local legends and would keep us well informed and entertained with her stories, sometimes keeping us awake at night during sleepovers, shivering as we imagined all the ghosts, goblins and vampires. She never relented. Her face would become as red as her hair if we ever acted amused or disbelieving. These fantastic stories, which she swore she had not made up, went on past high school, slowing down only a bit once we started college. But we loved our crazy, little dreamer and would not have wanted her any other way. We were wrong to think we’d spend all our college years together. Instead, we ended up with another roommate and were not able to see Fiona as often as we had hoped. She simply could not afford full tuition plus the cost of a dorm room, so she lived at home, working and going to school only part time.

The day I was invited to the party is one I’ll never forget. I had just left my building and started down the sidewalk. The sudden winter-like chill in the air went right through me and, once again, I had the strange haunting dream on my mind, which in turn, brought back the memory of the beautiful man in the mall. Weeks later and still he was in my head. I was just about to Gage Hall when Fiona stopped me mid-jog, interrupting my thoughts.

“Lizzy!” she shouted, out of breath from trying to catch up to me. She took a deep breath, blew out a huge plume of steam that seemed to float in slow motion from her mouth into the frigid air. “Brr. I can’t wait for winter to be over,” she said as she wrapped her arms around herself with a shiver, “and it hasn’t even really started yet!”

“Fiona, I don’t want to be late. What’s up?” I attempted to sound sincere, but was sure she noticed the tone of impatience in my voice.

She appeared to be searching for the right words and stumbled over them for a few seconds - seconds that irritated me more and more. Why couldn’t she hurry up and just spit it out already? At this rate I’d end up missing my exam! My impatience smoldered as I felt my cheeks turn red with more than just the cold wind. I wrapped my scarf around my face pretending to be cold and I stamped my feet a few times, feigning my chill.

“What is it, Fiona? I can’t be late for Anthropology. We have an exam today!”

“Well,” she started out slow, “I’m wondering if you’d like to join me this Friday night.” She pulled her hood tighter and tucked in some stray wisps of red hair. “There’s a party I’ve been invited to,” she paused and seemed to struggle to get the words out, “and I’d like you to come. Everyone is allowed to invite one other person.” She raised her eyebrows and widened her green eyes. She tried to sound calm and collected, but I had known her long enough to know she was anxious. Her extreme blinking gave her away. At first, I couldn’t understand the obvious nervousness at her invitation, other than the fact that she knew I hated parties and seldom went to anything that even closely resembled one. Before I could object and run toward the building, she grabbed my arm with her brown-gloved hand.

“It’s not what you’re thinking either, Lizzy,” she said and then lowered her voice. “This is the party of the decade. THE Party!” The way she emphasized the word sent serious chills up my spine. “The party I’ve been telling you guys about for years.”

The wind stopped for a few seconds, and I heard the faint sound of a siren in the distance. Fiona’s face was all screwed up: partly a smile - partly a fearful grimace. I didn’t know if I should believe her or if she was trying to pull a fast one on me. After all, this coming Friday was also the thirteenth. How convenient.

I thought back for a minute while we stood there silent as statues listening to the wind picking up again - now an eerie howling sound. This party she spoke about had to do with a vampire legend. Supposedly, once every decade there was a gathering of vampires from all over the world. No one knew for sure what they hoped to achieve by including humans, but it was rumored that they came peacefully and only privileged humans were invited and sworn to secrecy.

“I’ve heard that if you are invited to this party, you can actually join them if you want to!” This had always been one of Fiona’s favorite stories, and she never showed one ounce of fear while telling it - almost as though she wished it was true. And it always led to another: Bram Stoker himself had researched the history of our town before he wrote his famous book, Dracula, simply because of all our legends. One night when she talked about the vampire legends we had been camping out in our backyard in a tent. I can still hear Fiona’s voice as she went on and on in her excited, pleading tone.

“They do exist, you guys! Why else do you think he would bother researching our town? I believe he found the truth, and then wrote about it in his book.”

She then told us another more grisly, yet famous vampire story. “It was a bitter cold winter in 1892 when Mercy Brown died of a mysterious disease. So cold, in fact, that the grave diggers couldn’t get through the frozen ground.” Fiona spoke in hushed whispers as we huddled together in the small tent.

“They had no choice but to place her body in a crypt and then, afterwards, people reported seeing her walking about town. Soon after her death her brother, Edwin, became deathly ill too. Their father feared the worst: that Mercy was a vampire, and he got permission to exhume her body. When they did, Mercy still looked alive and seemed to have moved inside of her coffin, and when they cut out her heart they were horrified to find it full of fresh blood!”

I remember the look on Melinda’s face at this point in the story. She always pretended she wasn’t afraid, but her wide eyes told me that she felt the same goose bumps crawling up her spine as I did.

Fiona’s face glowed in the thin beams of our flashlights as she finished her story. “After Bram Stoker died, guess what they found among his papers? Clippings from the Providence Journal about Mercy Brown!”

The sound of a siren brought me back to the moment. Fiona’s eyes were glued to mine as she waited for an answer. My mind whirled with memories of her stories through the years. How could she still be so gullible? Providence: home to vampires? This idea bordered on the ridiculous. Who would believe such nonsense anyway? I supposed people in the old days did. After all, they believed anything that went bump in the night had to be some sort of evil entity. Surely not now, in this present age of science and knowledge. And surely not now when I was already late for my exam!

“Listen, Fiona, I’ll have to catch you later. I’m sure you understand that I have a few questions for you before I can give you my answer. Okay?” I took a few steps backwards toward the building as I spoke. A furious wind started to whip up around us now, no doubt, surprising all the meteorologists with this sudden burst of winter-like weather in mid-October. Crisp orange and red leaves rustled and twirled around my feet as I eased my way toward the glass doors, hoping beyond hope to avoid my redheaded friend, at least until Saturday.

Her freckles seemed to stand out even more in the daylight as she smiled and said with a note of sadness in her voice, “Sure, Lizzy. Don’t forget though.” She took a quick glance around and added in a tone much like she had a huge secret, “There are rules that can’t be broken. Don’t mention this to anyone until you give me your answer. If the rules are broken, we won’t get to go.”

I wondered how “they” would know if I did bother to mention this silliness to anyone, but I nodded my head as I waved, turned and jogged the rest of the way to the doors. I smiled to myself and tried to forget about Fiona and her ridiculous party. I had to gear myself up for the exam and force myself to focus on that, and nothing else.

Fifty minutes later I dropped my exam off on the professor’s desk and left the building. The instant the howling wind slapped me in the face it reminded me of Fiona's invitation. I pulled my coat closer to my chilled body and tucked my hair down into my hood as I ran to the Café to meet Lindy for lunch. Immediately upon entering, I spotted her black hair. The sunlight coming through the window made it look radiant with hues of dark blue streaking through the blackness. I had no doubt that my hair appeared smashed down flat from my hood after running through the wind. I pulled off my hood, shook my head, and untangled it with my fingers. I couldn’t help but notice a few eyes glance my way and then back to my twin. We were an unusual sight, I supposed, identical in every way. But I was sure, too, that they noticed how much nicer Lindy’s hair was.

I glanced down at the rest of Melinda’s lunch when I joined her at the table and realized we had purchased exactly the same meal: a turkey club sandwich wrap with bacon, a large gourmet cookie, and a bottle of water. We both reached for a napkin at the same time and laughed as our hands touched. Her giggle echoed mine. Even our voices were identical, especially on the phone.

I set my things down on the table and hung my coat on the chair behind me. We exchanged smiles as I started eating my sandwich, and she finished hers.

“Did you see Fiona today?” she asked, brushing some crumbs off her lap.

It was an innocent question, but I had hoped to avoid all talk about Fiona until later.

“Yeah, but we didn’t get to talk much. I didn’t want to be late,” I mumbled, sounding vague. After all, what if I decided I did want to go to the party? I’d have to wait to tell my twin about it and ask her to come after I gave Fiona my answer. Actually, the whole concept of vampires had started to intrigue me. Maybe it would be fun... and enlightening. Maybe it would finally put to rest the whole idea of the crazy, unbelievable legends once and for all. Or maybe I’d find out my crazy friend had been right all along! Nah, that was impossible. Although the more I thought about it, the more fascinated I became.

Melinda tapped her fingers on the table to get my attention. I looked up into her almond shaped eyes, mirror images of my own.

“Lizzy! You’re a million miles away. What in the world is churning in that mind of yours?” She stopped tapping and rested her chin on her hand.

I put my sandwich down, half-eaten and all but forgotten, flipped my hair back away from my face and said in a voice as monotone as possible, “Nothing. Just wondering if I passed my exam.”

“Sure you are.” Sarcasm radiated on her face as well as in her voice as she picked up her cookie and took a large, crunching bite. “You’re hiding something from me!” She chewed with a deliberate slowness as she narrowed her eyes and then dabbed the paper napkin on her now pouting lips.

“Ok, you got me.” I tried to keep a straight face. “I can’t talk about it just yet, but I’ll tell you later, I promise.” I held out my hand, holding up my pinky finger.

Lindy reached across the table as a smirk touched her face. She linked her pinky to mine, saying “I knew it! It’s a guy, isn’t it?” Her voice became soft and inquisitive.

“I said I’ll tell you later. You know my pinky promise is good, sis.”

She flicked back her hair, mimicking my earlier show of aloofness. Her blue eyes twinkled as she stood and said, “Alrighty then. Later it is. I have a class in five minutes. See you back at home.” She grabbed her coat and backpack in one hand, her empty wrappers with the other, and kissed the top of my head. She didn’t say another word. As she hurried off I enjoyed the slight scent of her jasmine perfume in the soft trail of wind that followed her away.

I had to admit I was glad she had to rush off. If not, she would have pestered me with questions right up until the time I had to leave. As I thought about our brief sisterly tiff, my mind went back again to the party. As if on cue, Fiona appeared before me. I cringed at the sight of her heading straight to my table. I still hadn’t quite made up my mind, and, even though I flirted with the idea of going, I didn’t feel like dealing with it right this minute.

Her curls bounced like springs now that they were freed from her hood. Her red hair was short in comparison to ours - only to her shoulders. She smiled as she approached my table and then placed her salad down across from me.

“Hey, Lizzy,” she said as a hopeful look washed over her face.

“Hi, Fiona. No, I haven’t said anything to anyone. Sit down and relax!” I smiled at my fantastically loony friend.

“Thanks, Lizzy! I so want to go. I have been waiting for this for years!” Her whole face beamed relief.

“So, refresh my memory about the secret bash,” I said in a sweet voice.

“Okay.” She sat down and dropped her book-bag on the floor, and then leaned forward. “The only way to get an invitation is by word of mouth. No one is told where it’s held, and the only way to get there is by boat. Each invited guest is allowed to invite one other person.” Subdued fervor filled her voice as she went on. “Once your invitee says yes, you can tell them where to meet, but not one minute sooner.”

I had to ask the obvious question. “Who asked you to go?”

“Oh, just some random guy I met at the coffee shop. It was so strange. He just came up to me while I stood in line and handed me a slip of paper with his number on it. He asked if I might be interested in going to a party and, if so, I was not allowed to tell anyone else about it, but I could invite one other person and give them the same instructions. I knew immediately this was the party!” Her eyes were large, and her face was flushed with excitement.

“Fiona, in all seriousness, do you believe all this? How could a true vampire keep himself away from such easy prey?”

She leaned closer still and whispered, “The vampires will not feed on humans during the party; it is f*******n. And in no way can they change a human into one of their own, unless specifically asked to do so by the human. The humans are sworn to secrecy about the party regardless of their outcome - what they decide to do. These rules cannot be broken.”

I could only assume that after the party all the rules were suspended and worse yet, if a human spilled the beans, the only recourse would likely be death. And not the kind that was enjoyed by these so-called undead beings, such as having eternal youthfulness, being forever healthy, and basically, immortal. It probably meant really dead. Dead without benefits!

Fiona remained calm as she went on. “Of course, it’s likely there are more rules and regulations that we will learn about once we attend the party...”

I interrupted her, “If we attend.”

“I am going, Lizzy!” She picked up her fork and stabbed at her salad. Fiona had been a vegetarian for years and she eyed what was left of my sandwich with disdain. “Are you sure you didn’t say anything to your sister?”

“I swear! Although it wasn’t easy. You know Melinda. She can tell if I’m hiding something from a mile away.” I winked at her trying to lighten the increasing sense of mistrust she now showed me.

“But you did manage to keep your mouth shut, Lizzy? Not a word?” Her voice was hope mingled with doubt.

“Not a word.” I echoed her question. At the same time, something else had dawned on me. I had always been interested in local history, though I never did find anything in my research regarding these legends and I supposed, if there was any truth to them, nothing would be written down anyway. Stories passed down from generation to generation would have kept the legend alive. But, during one of my family history searches, I did uncover something a bit strange and I decided to share it with Fiona now.

“Did I ever tell you what I found the last time I researched the Rose family?”

She knew how obsessive I could be regarding my ancestry. Her chewing slowed down as she shook her head.

“Well, it’s quite interesting! There was an article online about the Rose family from Peace Dale, Rhode Island that took place in 1874. Now, don’t get me wrong. I have no proof that these people are my ancestors. Anyway, somehow the patriarch of the Rose family decided that his deceased daughter was a vampire and he took it upon himself to exhume her body and cut out her heart, burning it afterwards!”

Fiona’s mouth fell open and she became saucer-eyed. “For real? Awesome!”

“Awesome? She was already dead! What will burning her heart do?” I asked rhetorically as I shook my head and continued. “I know you’re probably comparing it to the Mercy Brown legend, but listen! The freaky part about this story is - our paternal grandmother’s name was Ellen…Ruth…Rose.” I paused a moment and then said in a more excited tone, “Fiona, the story I found said the heart-less exhumed body was none other than Ruth… Ellen…Rose.” I said the names slowly for effect, somewhat pleased I could finally offer Fiona a creepy story for a change. But then, I reconsidered and continued with less enthusiasm, concerned I might be fueling a dangerous fire.

“There wasn’t much more, but I remember the father’s name was William G Rose, and there was no mention of any other children, living or dead.”

“This is no coincidence, Lizzy.” Fiona’s eyes were wide as she shook her head back and forth. “I bet you and Lindy are related to these people! I’d bet my life on it.” As usual, the stranger the story, the more fantastical and attractive it was to Fiona. “You simply must come too!” she said, starting to stab her salad again.

It hit me then, exactly how much Fiona had been looking forward to this party and how very important it was for her to have me come along. I knew, too, that she would still go, even if I didn’t. Worried that her excitement would end up getting her into trouble, I decided she’d be much safer if I went - if we went with her.

Slowly but surely, I had talked myself into going to the party, and now, I’d have to invite my twin. Even though we had learned to be apart more often, something this huge had to be shared. I could already picture Melinda rolling her eyes in disbelief, but at the same time, I knew how she loved a good party. She’d accept the invitation, I was sure of it.

“Yes. I’ll go with you,” I said without another thought.

“Oh, thank you. Thank you, Lizzy!” Fiona’s smile was wide. “I wanted you to come so badly. And as much as I do want to go, I think I’d be afraid to go alone.” Her salad stabbing increased in speed as she finally started to eat again. Her furious eating made me think it was good she was a vegetarian. Surely she’d choke on meat as fast as she stuffed her face. At least in her frenzy, she had the common courtesy to keep her mouth closed.