“I can promise you
You'll stay as beautiful
With dark hair
And soft skin
Forever...”
- The Toadies
Tristan held Izzy’s hand as they walked around the lake beneath the dim light of the crescent moon, the bones just beneath her skin seemingly as delicate as those of a baby bird. He gave her palm a light squeeze and she returned it with a tiny smile as they both looked away from one another, out over the still water.
“Was he really like they say?” They had been discussing King George in the car on the way out there to Hiawatha Lake. Izzy had a master's degree in European History from Cornell and loved asking him questions like this. Anyone else would receive little or nothing in response from Tristan, but he relished these conversations with her. He didn’t have to dumb things down or explain the basic facts that should already be known. He had no interest in forming any sort of rivalry with Google Search. If you couldn’t figure out the basics for yourself, he did not intend to be your tutor, on any subject.
One plus one equals two. That’s all you really need to get started. Now go ahead and figure out algebra and geometry and calculus and bounded harmonic functions for yourself and you can get back to me with any relevant questions later, okay?
Tristan simply didn't have much patience for ignorance, and he did not suffer fools quietly, or in any way at all really - he had all the time in the world and still knew enough not to squander it - but Izzy was certainly no idiot, or anything even close. He had known many women in his life but none were as intelligent and engaging and beautiful as her since the time when he was forced to run from the Persian army during the pillage and flame and slaughterous defeat at Gallipoli.
Her name was Adriana. She was radiant and though it was long ago he could still to that day remember every single little crevasse in the lines of her face. He was only 21 years old then - his turning wouldn’t actually occur until almost two years later, during the early morning hours somewhere in the backstreets of Vienna after he had consumed one too many pints of ale - and he never saw Adriana ever again, although he did search for her over the span of many years.
He assumed that she was taken and either enslaved or raped and killed by the Persians. Some things you just had to let go of. Some forces were just greater than you. Sometimes, there was simply nothing to be done. Tristan had learned this painful lesson many times over and, eventually, he finally understood how to truly accept it. Day or night, one eventually had to make sufficient peace with one’s own past in order to sleep.
“George? Well…yes, I suppose so. Like anyone else, he was more than just one thing, of course. But the histories are mostly accurate where he is concerned, I believe. I only ever saw him just a few times with my own eyes, mind you, and of course that was over 200 years ago. But yes, he was clearly a madman at that point.”
After a few more steps around the lakeshore he chuckled softly to himself. “I once had to chase after him running naked across the estate grounds at midnight while he was urinating down his own legs. The hounds rounded him up first but when we eventually subdued him, as gently as possible, he was speaking pure gibberish. I was already conversant in at least fifteen languages by then and I couldn’t make out one single fucking word he said.”
She laughed openly, self-consciously covering her mouth with one hand and then squeezing his hand lightly again with her other. This had become one of their little things.
She asked another question.
“How old were you then? Honestly?” She looked at him and then turned away out towards the lake again. It was something else to focus on during moments like this.
He grinned back at her and pushed some of the longish black hair off of his forehead, then he too looked out towards the waning reflection of the moonlight on the motionless surface of the lake again, and after a short time he replied.
“Older than you are now. By quite a bit, I should say, my dearest beloved.” She was 28. They both had dark hair and pale skin, and he might have been her younger brother based on general similarity of appearance, but only if you couldn’t see the way that their eyes connected with a certain kind of radiant light whenever they really looked at one another. He kissed her suddenly and she happily drank in his lips and tongue before they moved on, enjoying the pre-dawn still and silence, both of them knowing that the birds would soon awake. Maybe an hour, maybe a little more. Just before sunrise. Maybe the last sunrise.
“Tell me more about your time and duty during the fall of Singapore. It must have been chaos and horror. You’ve referenced it a few times, but we have never really discussed it in detail. I’m sure it was terrible, though maybe not for someone…as resourceful as yourself.” Another small smile.
He laughed briefly, without any true mirth, and then looked down towards his feet.
“It was bloody. I witnessed the death of many friends. I know it seems like a long time ago but it’s still quite fresh in my memory. Perhaps some other time.”
Izzy paused in deference and then inquired, “Can I ask just one more question?”
“Go ahead.” He did not hesitate.
“Which side did you fight for?”
He laughed quietly. This time the laugh was genuine.
“The truth is…both."
She gave him a questioning look and he chuckled softly, as was his way in such situations when he was embarrassed only a little bit less than he didn't want to lie to her. She would eventually know it all anyway. Better to just be open and honest from the start.
“What can I say? I had to get out. I took advantage of any and all opportunities that presented themselves to me at that time. I didn’t want to get trapped in a desperate, chaotic and massive prison camp in Southeast Asia. Besides, I wouldn’t have survived the very first time that they lined us all up outside of the barracks under the morning sun. You eventually do what you must do, my dear. That’s what survival is. Trust me. I know this much. For what it's worth, I intentionally missed every Allied soldier that I ever took a shot at, and I quietly killed many of their subjugators during my escape from the island as well.”
There was another small smile shared between them, and they continued to circle around the back quarter of the lake as the morning sky began to shade itself in those deeply morose but beautiful mauve and lilac shades of purple that signified the coming of yet another day in the endless string of days that might never see closure.
When they reached the old boathouse, not far from the parking lot, she stopped and stared up into his eyes, then looked away at the lake for a moment.
“I’ve thought about it, at great length. I’ve been thinking about nothing else lately. For months now. I have decided that this is what I want. Tonight.”
“Are you sure? Because once it is done it cannot be undone. You must be certain. Months are not very long in the overall arc of time, in your present reckoning anyway. You know that my years outpace your months many times over.”
She never paused before voicing her reply.
“Yes. I am sure. I want to be with you. Forever.”
“It won’t be easy. If you are true to your word, and you want this now, then you have already seen your last sunrise. You will never again walk in the light of day. And you will have to learn to feed. This is not natural, nor is it easy. It is a very difficult adjustment, and it takes time. I can help, but it will be difficult for a while. However, I can assure you that you will eventually come to adore the moonlight with a deep and unyielding passion, with little love lost for the sun.”
Izzy loved his sometimes-anachronistic style of speech, which he only slipped into when they were alone together. She didn’t hesitate at all when she reiterated her reply.
“Yes. I am sure. I want to be with you. Forever.”
He squeezed her palm lightly once more and she squeezed his in return. She kissed him, and when she held her neck open and exposed to him, after some brief contemplation, he did what was requested. For just a moment, she actually saw him for who and what he truly was, an ancient and archaic creature who was no longer recognizable as the 23-year-old former version of himself that he projected out to the world.
And then, just like that, he was back. 23 years old and handsome with that perfect smile and thick dark hair. He had been all over the globe for a very long time. She would truly earn her PhD in World History under his direct tutelage, and she looked forward to every moment of it. They would see all of the great cities and sites together, and they would stand hand in hand. The nights would go on and on forever. She did not understand the true horror of this prospect at the time. The horror of forever. She was simply in love.
They reached the parking lot a short time later and drove off down one of the side trails in the road leading up to the lake and found a discreet and well-shaded place to park. Then they climbed into the large trunk of the old black Cadillac, pulling it shut behind them before relaxing in one another’s warm embrace in the comfort of the mattress and pillows awaiting them there.
Sunrise would be coming soon. The last sunrise. They both knew this as the birds began to chirp from the trees above. Regardless, Izzy quickly and peacefully drifted off to sleep in Tristan’s arms with a small smile on her lips, virtually identical to the one on his.
No one troubled them as they slept so Tristan never had to risk popping the trunk to use the shotgun, and they both slept until sunset the following evening with the large blanket covering them head-to-toe. When they awoke, Izzy was voraciously hungry, so they drove to downtown Syracuse and into a neighborhood where there were many bars and nightclubs and plenty of late-night foot traffic from the local college kids.
She had to learn, so he showed her the way and they found a good place to wait in the darkness for their prey to come along at the right time. They both had to feed before sunrise, but it didn't take very long. In a way, it was their first true night together, and it was a beautiful night.
It was the first night of forever.
THE END
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Tristan and Izzy. Love it!
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Thanks, Liz! Yeah those names are a nod to the ancient Celtic stories of the tragic romance between Tristan and Iseult (or Isolde). Tristan is still a cool name, but no one these days would actually name their daughter Iseult or Isolde. I mean, that kid is surely gonna get picked on worse than a boy named Sue. My favorite Johnny Cash song:
Well, my daddy left home when I was three
Didn't leave very much to my mom and me
Except this old guitar and an empty bottle of booze
Now I don't blame him 'cause he run and hid
But the meanest thing that my daddy ever did
Was before he left, he went and named me Sue
Well, he must've thought that it was quite a joke
And I got a lot of laughs from lots of folk
Seems I had to fight my whole life through
Some gal would giggle and I'd turn red
And some guy'd laugh and I'd bust his head
I tell you, life ain't easy for a boy named Sue
But I grew up quick and I grew up mean
My fist got hard and my wits got keen
Roaming from town to town to hide my shame
But I made me a vow to the moon and stars
I'd search the honkytonks and the bars
And kill that man that gave me that awful name
Well, it was Gatlinburg in mid-July
And I just hit town and my throat was dry
Thought I'd stop and have myself a brew
At an old saloon on a street of mud
There at a table, dealing stud
Sat the dirty, mangy dog that named me Sue
Well, I knew that snake was my own sweet dad
From a worn-out picture that my mother had
Knew that scar on his cheek and his evil eye
He was big and bent and gray and old
And I looked at him and my blood ran cold
And I said, "My name is Sue, how do you do?"
"Now you gonna die", that's what I told him
Well, I hit him hard right between the eyes
And he went down, but to my surprise...
He come up with a knife and cut off a piece of my ear
Then I busted a chair right across his teeth
And we crashed through the walls and into the street
Kicking and a-gouging in the mud and the blood and the beer
Well, I tell you, I've fought tougher men
But I really can't remember when
He kicked like a mule and he bit like a crocodile
Well, I heard him laugh and then I heard him cuss
And he reached for his gun but I pulled mine first
He stood there lookin' at me and I saw him smile
And he said, "Son, this world is rough
And if a man's gonna make it, he's gotta be tough"
"I knew I wouldn't be there to help you along
So I give you that name, and I said goodbye
And I knew you'd have to get tough or die"
"It's that name that helped to make you strong"
He said, "Now you just fought one heck of a fight
And I know you hate me, and you got the right to kill me now if want to
And I wouldn't blame you if you do"
"But you ought to thank me, before I die
For the gravel in ya gut and the spit in ya eye
'Cause I'm the son of a bitch that named you Sue"
What could I do?
Well, I got all choked up and I threw down my gun
I called him my pa, and he called me his son
Came away with a different point of view
And I think about him, now and then
Every time I try and every time I win, and if I ever have a-
Well, if I ever have a boy, I'll name him...
Frank or George or Bill or Tom, anything but Sue
- Johnny Cash
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A bloody romance at the lake!
'The line stood out to me-
'You eventually do what you must do, my dear. That’s what survival is. Trust me. I know this much. '
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Thanks for reading, Marty. I was trying to pull off the trick of writing a "be careful what you ask for" story that is somehow incongruously coupled with a happy ending. Difficulty Level = 8.2? (I don't know. I never tried it before.) Not really sure I got there but thanks, man. I appreciate your support!
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A great example of showing the readers instead of only telling them or summarizing events. You made it real and it drew me into their world. It was fun having surprises as the living in different time eras unfolded and the clues added up until the reader knows they are vampires. Wonderful sense of increasing suspense lures the reader through the story. Very skillful, portrays unique characters, cleverly written. I enjoyed the image of the vampires curled up in the car trunk. Beautiful imagery with a poetic romance tone.
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Thank you so much, Kristi. You are always so kind. I really wasn't trying to hide the vampire thing, I just knew different readers would catch it at different points. This was more of a romance story for me, and one of the few I have ever attempted so I am so glad you liked it. I apologize for not being as generous with my time as you are with yours. I need to catch up on your recent stuff. Hope all is well.
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Starting this story off with one of my favorite jams by The Toadies is a total mood-setter and honestly, the tone you carry from that lyric straight into the lakeside stroll was seamless and hauntingly romantic. I was completely drawn in by the soft melancholy and quiet intimacy between Izzy and Tristan, which made the immortal twist hit even harder.
"You eventually do what you must do, my dear. That’s what survival is. Trust me. I know this much." — that line hit with a quiet gravity, like a truth whispered across centuries. It shows just how deeply lived-in Tristan’s character is, and you thread that wisdom through every interaction with such understated grace.
This was tender, dark, atmospheric, and rich with emotion and timeless weight. Absolutely stunning work — beautifully written, beautifully imagined, and a truly memorable love story with fangs.
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Thank you so much, Mary. If I could write a return mailing address as well as you write a lit review I could die happy. I continue to believe that you are the love child of some clandestine affair between two iconic authors. Who did I say last time? Faulkner and Woolf? All right, this time let's go with John Kennedy Toole and Sylvia Plath. That would be a really weird pair but maybe it would have worked out and spared them both from, uh, you know. (Btw, did you ever read Virginia Woolf's suicide note? It's a must read and I am not even trying to be funny. She sheds her soul bare on the page. It's brutal.)
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This is great! The paragraph with 'deeply morose' in it is sublime. We always see vampires as victims, but here's a real love story. Great stuff!
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Thank you, Rebecca. It's funny how sometimes you write a story and in the process you just sort of breeze through a passage or a paragraph without giving it much thought, then later you reread it and think, "Hey, that's not bad. Who wrote that part?"
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That's so true!
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I loved Tristan and Izzy’s chemistry and the lake’s vivid setting. Nice job capturing their haunting choice.
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Thank you so much, Dennis. I appreciate your time and compliments. This was definitely a mood piece. (A dark, passionate, bloodthirsty kind of mood, I suppose, but still...that's a kind of mood, right? I mean, it doesn't strike me very often, but I'm not here to judge anyone.)
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👍One true love, thousands of deaths (as promised) and thousands more to come. 👍
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Thanks, Trudy! That makes three consecutive stories with no content warnings for me. I have turned a new leaf in 2025. Maybe I will write a children's story next. (It would easily be the worst children's story ever.)
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LOL, good luck out-horror-ing the Grimm Brothers.
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