This book is about looking into mortality knowing that around every corner death could be waiting. Its about enjoying your short time here not worring about the petty things. It is also about the first six chapters of Cain The First drop The first vampire from his own perspective as he was given the ultimate punishment to feed only of blood and eat of only ash. How Lucifer tricks him and how the rest of the vampire population came into being. How without the story of Cain and Abel none of the other tales you have been told would even exist. I hope you enjoy and are looking forward to the rest of the novel coming out soon Dennis Beggs
Twisted Peace Colors Hidden in Shadow
Plus the first six chapters of Cain The First DropBy Dennis BeggsAuthorHouse
Copyright © 2011 Dennis Beggs
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4567-6074-8Chapter One
I am Cain and my story is as old as time. Biblical, as you might say. I am a vampire, although I was not always this way. I had a normal life just like yours once. I was a farmer who loved the fields, the way the breeze tickled the crops. Night and day, I would work them. They were all I had. Well, them and my brother Abel. Abel worked with the animals. He loved the animals just as much as I loved the fields. Often I would help him take care of his flock.
One day I was tilling, and Abel came to me with one of his animals. It was a small horse. He said it was a gift to help me in the fields. I should have taken it, especially knowing what I do now, but I denied the gift. "My fields are small, Brother, and I love to work the land myself."
He looked at me for a while and replied, "You need company out here, don't you? Don't you get lonely out here? All day long you stand in these fields."
"Listen to the wind, Brother. Can you hear it whisper as it runs through the wheat?"
He stood quietly for a moment. "All I hear is this horse breathing on my shoulder."
I smiled at him and laughed. "Exactly!" I told him, as I patted him on his shoulder.
"Okay, then, you go ahead and listen to your whispering fields, just don't start whispering back. And bring some vegetables in tonight for dinner." He started to walk away, then turned and said, "Don't bring any vegetables that whisper." He turned back and continued to walk away.
That is how it was all the time; we got along great. We ate well. Abel provided the meat, and I brought the fruits and vegetables. I had relatively small fields, but there were many, and I grew anything I could. Once I had thirty small fields, which turned out to be a little much, both for me and the cellar. I hated to see things spoil, especially my back. So I learned to keep it at about fifteen fields, including my fruits and berries. I also learned to dry things and put them in leather bags that my brother made me. He was always helping me out.
Together, we built two barns and a nursery for all of Abel's animals. His flock, like my fields, continued to grow. We would joke around quite often, working through the whole day without really knowing where the time went. We would always stop to watch the sunset. Every dusk was a wonder. The sky would explode in reds and golds. It wasn't out of the ordinary for us to lie on the ground and watch the whole thing without saying a word.
Other times we would talk, about normal things, I guess: our dreams and plans for the future. Abel would talk most of the time; he had a lot more to say. Often he talked about his animals. He had close bonds with all of them. It seemed like they were his children. He had names for them all; it was hard to keep up, really. Not to mention the way he talked about all the things each animal did all day, like they were human.
"You spend too much time with those animals. Listen to yourself carry on," I often said.
"You're just jealous, your corn just stands around," he said, imitating my plants with a stupid expression painted on his face.
Like I said, life wasn't boring. There was hardly a dull moment. I would have to tell him frequently to get his children out of my fields–mainly his chickens and ducks. I would yell and scream. The chickens didn't like it, but the ducks! Every time I turned my back, they would charge me, sneak attack. Sometimes I would catch myself playing with them, kind of red light, green light, because every time I turned and faced them, they would stop like they weren't up to anything. During times of boredom, it was fun, but I never let Abel know: he would never have let me live it down.
Truth be told, I had animals of my own. I quite enjoyed the birds' company, and when I stood still enough, deer would just about come up to me. In fact, I knew all the wild animals and even watched them bring up their children. I watched them grow up and bring up their own families. My brother didn't know that, either; like I said, he would never have let me live it down.
We spent a lot of time together since we didn't have to leave our fields much. There was not a lot of need to go to town except for building material or clothes; everything else we provided ourselves. My crops fed his animals, and in return I had all the fertilizer I needed. When we needed money, we would sell our extras. People said I had the best crops around. Even Abel's animals were well taken care of, not like a lot of the other animals in the market. We loved what we did, and there was a harmony to it, poetic really. Not like a lot of others who had more than they could take good care of, undernourished and sickly animals and crops. That's why, when we wanted to sell, there were instantaneous results.
I remember that we would wait sometimes until we heard how everyone was fed up with the quality of the items in the market. Then we would announce that we had extra, and people would bombard our farm. We really got a kick out of it sometimes.
Sure, we had regulars that we would take care of. There were the elders of the town, some widowed, others just up in years. Abel would often watch them; that was sometimes top conversation during our sunset watch. He really wanted to find a mate to grow old with, someone other than me. It's not like he didn't try or anything, but he was too involved with his animals. He said that it would happen when it was time. Abel was like that; he had a strong belief in things like karma and fate, which were other common conversation pieces of his.
Abel was a strong man in very good shape. He was a little shorter than me but just as strong. All farmers are, really; it's hard work. Weather, animals, or crops, it takes its toll on you. Sure, you learn how to make your jobs easier on yourself, but even then it is physically demanding.
Every time I went to hoe my fields, it seemed there were rocks. I collected them for our building purposes. In fact, I lined our cellar with them, and most of our house was covered in stone. It made a much stronger home than just having wood. Also, it made me very strong. That was good; I liked the fact that when Abel got squirrely, I could easily take him down.
He was okay with the fact that I was a little stronger than him, although he still tried wrestling around, using the element of surprise. Little did he know that his ducks had helped me learn to judge how close something was behind me. Plus, my hearing was great; I knew every sound in my surroundings, and Abel was not a very quiet person. I would almost hear him think of trying to sneak up on me. I would just keep on working, pretending that I had no idea of his even being there.
Once he was pursuing me after a long rain. As usual, I heard him the moment he entered the field. Earlier, I had noticed a pretty big mud puddle, so I wandered over, looking at the ears of corn, placing myself right in front of the puddle. Abel stood there, waiting for the perfect moment. I turned slightly. He was sure that he was undiscovered when really I was just placing him in my peripheral vision. I noticed him smile; he really thought that he had me. I looked down to see an ear of corn that had been half-eaten by a deer. I bent to pick it from the stalk, keeping Abel in my sight. Thinking that he was finally going to surprise me, he bounced, then lunged at me headfirst. As soon as I realized there was no stopping his action, I simply stepped to the side.
Abel, covered in mud, was looking at me, shocked and silent. He said, "You knew I was there, didn't you? You set me up!" Frustration was building in his eyes.
"Nooo," I said, fighting a smile. "How could I have known? You snuck up on me."
"Right," he said with high amounts of sarcasm, wiping mud from his soaked clothes. Then he looked at me with a crooked smile running across his face.
"Don't you do it," I said. Then, out of nowhere, he tackled me. It was the only time I didn't see it coming, probably because I was laughing myself to tears. When Abel pulled us both into the mud, we were both soaked, but it was worth the look on his face. Little did we know life was about to change.
Chapter Two
It was storming that night, the lightning constantly lighting up the sky with short flickers. I got out of bed to make sure the shutters were latched tightly. As I looked out the kitchen window, I noticed a lantern was lit in Abel's barn. Throwing on an overcoat, I walked to the barn to see what he was doing.
Apparently the storm had scared one of his sheep, putting her into an early labor. Abel was comforting her, trying to keep her from giving birth. Even I knew there was a chance the lamb wouldn`t survive if it was born this early, and I don't know too much about that stuff. I went to Abel's side, trying to keep him calm; he was looking just as bad as the poor sheep. For a long time, we were in that barn. I kept talking to him, trying to ease his mind, but I was unsuccessful. He was too worried about his friend. I could see the concern in his eyes, and I knew my brother very well, so at that point I knew the best thing for him was my support. I stood silently next to him with my hand upon his shoulder.
It was like that for some time. I stood watching the rain illuminated by lightning. Abel tried his best to comfort his sheep, stroking her head as she lay there upon the straw. The poor thing would shake with every roar of thunder, which came all too often that night. Her eyes were fixed upon the barn door. Seeing this, I walked over and shut it to ease her mind. It didn't have the effect I was hoping for. The door still rattled violently from the heavy winds, which really disturbed the sheep. There really wasn't anything either of us could do; she was terrified, eyes locked upon the door as if she could see something that we couldn't. Her nostrils flared from her erratic breathing.
"Cain, come quick," Abel called out. My eyes were still fixed upon the door, trying to see what spooked her. "She's going into labor. Hold her down."
I snapped out of my trance and went to assist my brother. Bending down, I tried holding the sheep's front legs to keep her from kicking. With every crack of thunder, her hooves sank beneath the straw, trenching the soil underneath. I had to apply all my strength just to hold the animal down. Feelings of remorse flooded through me. My head was next to hers as my body held her top half down.
Then a few things happened almost simultaneously. The sheep let out a sigh. This was no ordinary sigh. I was talking to her in an attempt to sooth her, and we were almost eye to eye. During that moment when she sighed, she gave birth, and I swear I could see the light in her giant eyes diminish. It was one of the saddest things I had encountered.
Abel was unaware of what had just occurred. He called out, "It's a girl, it's a girl, good job." He went to congratulate her by patting her shoulder, and that's when he realized what had happened.
I placed my hand atop his, looking sympathetically into his eyes. "She passed as she gave birth. I'm sorry, Brother."
His eyes started to well up. He grabbed a cloth tarp from the stable wall, covering his friend and patting her as he whispered, "I'm gonna miss you, girl." Then he rose. I walked over to him. In silence, we stood looking down at the tarp that covered the poor animal. Abel said, "Will you help me bury her when the ground dries?"
I put my hand upon his shoulder. "Of course I will."
With that, he grabbed the newborn lamb, held it against his wounded heart, he pulled open the door with his free hand and ran through the rain, taking the lamb into the house.
I stood in the barn for some time I didn't know how to cope with the sadness. I felt for that poor creature. The intensity of seeing a soul escape a living creature was hard to take. I still wondered what she had been staring at. Was it the storm or something else? All I could do was stand there, lost in thought.
The storm started to lose its intensity. It was now just a light sprinkle. I opened the door to the barn and sat on a bale of straw next to the sheep. I was mesmerized by the spot of the sheep's last gaze. "It must have just been the storm," I thought. With that, I stepped out of the barn door, closing it behind me, looking at the sheep as the door closed.
I didn't want to be in the barn anymore. I also wasn't ready to go in the house yet, so I decided to stand in the now drizzling rain. The moon was making an appearance between passing clouds. I again was lost in thought while standing next to the house. I didn't hear any movement inside, and decided to go in and get some sleep.
The next morning was quiet. Abel hardly spoke and neither did I. He had the new lamb in a wooden box upon the kitchen floor. I watched her as he got some eggs for breakfast. We ate in silence, then I went to tend my fields.
The storm the previous night had been strong. It ravaged my fields: stalks were broken and my crop was everywhere. It was going to take a while to clean up. The ground was too wet to work.
I could see Abel moping around. His chores had to be done regardless, so I figured that my mess could wait. I told Abel to tend to his new lamb. I could tell he was concerned about her. As I tended his flock, I realized why he felt so strongly about his animals. They were kind of like people in a way. They were happy for my companionship, their tails wagging, nudging me for attention. After a couple days, I started to have a bond with them. I even had an excuse to play with the ducks.
The ground finally dried out, and Abel was ready to bury his friend. He had already constructed a box for her. Any other time, I would have thought it a little much, but after being one on one with his animals the past few days, I understood his kindness for them a little more. After all, that sheep had been with him for a long time.
We carried the pine box to the hill that overlooked my fields, the place where we watched the sunset every night. It was a short burial. I dug most of the grave. That's what I was good at, so it didn't take me long. I did notice, however, that I put a lot of care into this particular hole. We lowered the box and Abel said a few words, then I comforted him and said that I would finish the burial. He took one last, long look upon the grave and said, "Thanks," as he walked into the house. I think it would have been too much for him.
After covering the box with soil, I sat atop the hill next to her fresh grave. Dusk started to fall, and Abel strolled slowly out to the hill, sitting next to me.
"Thanks, Brother. I couldn't have done this without you."
"Don't mention it. That's what family does," I told him. Then, we watched the sunset in silence. The sunset was spectacular that evening. Clouds moved fast, gathering the intense red-gold colors and dropping them, regaining the original darkness they once held.
In the following days, things started to regain a sense of normality. I was tending to my fields again, and Abel was back with his animals. His new lamb was constantly at his side. The lamb reminded me of a white, puffy dog. It was pretty comical, really, the instant bond they had. I watched them sometimes while I was in the fields.
I helped Abel more than usual now that I knew his animals better. There were even times that I looked forward to helping him out. Things really got back on track when he tried sneaking up on me again. I let him take me by surprise a few times. Things were better; the wounds were scarring over.
Abel was perceptibly back to normal. He was chattering, and the new lamb joined us on our sunset watches. "What are you going to call her?" I asked while stroking her head.
"Powder," he said simply, joining me in petting her.
"Powder, huh? That's a good name for her," I replied, and we sat watching the sunset, petting Powder, until the sun disappeared into the horizon.
Chapter Three
Although things were normal at home now, there was a change about the whole atmosphere. Things were happening all around us. We just didn't realize the effect it was going to have on our lives.
Abel and Powder took the wagon into town to get the things we needed. I decided not to go that day, figuring that I could get things done. With my helping Abel lately, my fields hadn't gotten their proper attention. Some of the crop was ruined from the storm; I wasn't really sure that there was going to be enough to last `til next season. I tried to salvage as much as I could from the ground. To my surprise, it looked like the majority of the crop was still good. It just wasn't in the same spot where it had been planted. I couldn't believe it: there was corn thrown at least thirty feet away. It took me a while to seek out all the crop in its new location.
While I was lost in my work, I couldn't help but notice the placement of the sun. It was getting late, and I wondered what was taking Abel so long. I gathered my broken stalks and other debris from the fields, making a fire in the far corner. That's when I saw Abel and Powder on their way back in from town.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Twisted Peace Colors Hidden in Shadowby Dennis Beggs Copyright © 2011 by Dennis Beggs. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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